Page 95 of Filthy Rich Silver Foxes
The tears keep coming, draining the last shreds of adrenaline and anger and hurt from my system. By the time I start to quiet, I feel wrung out. Empty.
But not alone.
Never alone.
By the time we pull up in front of my apartment, my brain is at least partially functional again.
I don’t know how I make it up the stairs. Muscle memory, probably. One foot in front of the other, climbing through a fog thick enough that everything feels distant, disconnected.
When Max unlocks the door and pushes it open, Evie is there, her bare feet tucked up under her on the couch, a laptop balanced precariously on her knees.
The second she sees my face, the laptop is forgotten.
“G?”
I lift a hand before she can reach me, palm out in a silent plea.
“I’m fine,” I say, my voice rough from crying. “I just...need a minute.”
Evie stops short, her mouth tightening into a line that says she doesn’t believe a single word, but she lets me go. For now.
I offer a weak smile in thanks and move past her, heading straight for my room. I hear Silas and Max saying something to her, but I don't stop to listen.
Inside my room, I shut the door behind me and sag against it for a moment, the cool wood pressing against my back.
The apartment is quiet.
Safe.
But the silence isn’t comforting the way it usually is. Tonight, it feels oppressive.
I cross to the bed, sinking down onto the edge of the mattress with a heavy exhale. My hands find my stomach automatically, palms splayed over the gentle swell that's still more concept than reality.
"I’ve got you," I whisper, the words barely a breath.
It’s a promise. To this tiny, stubborn life growing inside me. To myself.
A soft knock at the door pulls me from my thoughts. For a second, I consider pretending to be asleep. But then the door creaks open, and Silas’s head appears in the gap.
His expression is cautious, tender in a way that nearly undoes me all over again.
“Can we come in?” he asks, his voice low, careful.
I nod, unable to find words.
He slips inside, Max following a step behind him. They cross the room and sit down—one on either side of me.
I let myself lean into Silas first, my body slumping against his side without resistance. His arm wraps around my shoulders instantly, pulling me closer, tucking me against him with a quiet sigh of relief.
Max’s hand finds my thigh, his thumb stroking slowly.
For a long time, none of us says anything.
The knot in my chest loosens fractionally, enough that I can finally exhale without feeling like I’m shattering into a thousand irreparable pieces.
I stare down at my hands, still folded protectively over my stomach, and try to breathe through the ache lodged behind my sternum.
“You’re not alone,” Silas murmurs into my hair, the words vibrating against my scalp. “And we’re going to protect you from him.”
