Chapter 65

They sat at the kitchen table in the thin, late-night light – two silhouettes against the clutter of an apartment that still felt half-empty. The TV was off. The only sound was the slow tick of the clock and the crinkle of the paper Argent turned in his hands.

Argent broke the silence first, voice low and careful. “We don’t know if he’s still after you.”

Silver’s jaw tightened. He stared down at his own hands for a beat before answering. “He tried to kill me. He tried to kill Scott.”

“He’s a good kid,” Argent said quietly, as if that were supposed to be an explanation.

Silver’s face hardened. The words didn’t land like comfort – they landed like a betrayal. Anger flared up, bright and hot. “A good kid?” he snapped. “He pointed a gun at my chest, Dad. He tried to make a list out of our friends’ lives. How is that ‘good’?”

Argent sucked in a breath and looked away. “I can’t call Rachel and drop this on her – tell her her son is down here killing innocents.”

“Why not?” Silver demanded. “She would hate this. She’d want to know.” He leaned forward, voice raw. “She’d want to do something.”

Argent said nothing. His fingers found the envelope Rachel had left – tucked away and unopened – and he turned it over on the table like it might contain a map out of all of this. For a long moment he simply played with the flap, eyes distant.

Silver swallowed, the hurt folding into something quieter but harder. “Dad,” he began, and the words trembled. “There is nothing I want more than a normal high school experience. I want to go to class without wondering if I’ll get ambushed. I want to sit in the bleachers and watch Scott play without thinking about bullets. I want my sister here. I want my friends to be safe. I want to kiss Scott in the hallway and not be trying to memorize his crooked jaw in case it’s the last time I see it.”

He laughed, a short, bitter sound. “But I’m not that lucky. I don’t get that.”

For a moment neither of them spoke. The apartment felt too small for all the things they weren’t saying.

Silver pushed back from the table, chest heaving. “Fine,” he said at last, voice steady with a dangerous calm. “If staying quiet is going to make you feel like you’re doing something, if you need to – do whatever you have to do to feel better about yourself. If you think you have to make this right… then do it. Go after him. Go after Kate. Don’t wait for permission to be a father.”

💰

Silver sat by his bedroom window, the soft hum of rain against the glass barely cutting through the silence. His phone glowed in his hand – a small, familiar comfort in the dark. He scrolled slowly through his photos: snapshots of laughter, of friends at bonfires, of fleeting peace between chaos. Then he stopped at one picture.

Scott’s arms around him, both of them mid-laugh. A memory so bright it hurt.

Silver smiled faintly, thumb brushing the edge of the screen – until a faint tap echoed against the glass.

He looked up.

Outside, through the mist and streetlight haze, stood Kate. Her eyes caught his immediately – sharp, knowing, patient. Neither moved. After a few seconds, she turned and walked away.

Silver exhaled shakily. Every instinct told him not to follow. He did anyway.

He slipped out quietly, footsteps light, every shadow stretching long in the streetlights. Kate didn’t look back, but he knew she knew he was there – she always did. He trailed her across the empty road, through the rusted gates of Beacon Hills Cemetery.

And then he saw where she stopped.

Allison’s grave.

Kate glanced at the headstone, then at him. “So,” she said softly, “you finally came.”

Silver swallowed hard, stepping closer. “She grieved you,” he said, voice tight. “She grieved you because she loved you. Because she trusted you.”

Kate’s lips twitched – not quite a smile. “And I’m guessing this is the part where you didn’t? Did you spit on my grave, Arthur?” she asked, voice low and venomous. “Did you say how much you hated me?”

He met her stare evenly. “Seems like you already know the answer to that.”

Kate circled him like a wolf, eyes glinting in the dim light. “Did it hurt?” she asked, tapping her left eye mockingly.

Silver didn’t flinch. He didn’t answer. She didn’t deserve the satisfaction.

Kate’s tone darkened. “You know how lucky you are, Arthur? You were supposed to die at birth. Deucalion told us to kill you. But somehow, you didn’t turn. You lost a sight, but not your life.” She stepped closer, her breath ghosting his ear. “And Allison – she died saving you. When you couldn’t even save yourself.”

His breath caught, memories slamming into him like a wave –

The Oni’s blade flashed. A burst of black smoke. Allison moving before he could even scream. The sword pierced her chest – clean, merciless.

“Allison!” he cried, falling to his knees as she crumpled in his arms, blood soaking through his hands. Her eyes met his, soft even as they dimmed.

Kate watched his expression crumble. “How come she always had to protect you?” she whispered. “How do you keep escaping death? You being happy, in love – ” her words curled with poison, ” – is that your way of pretending you’re okay without her? Did you hate her that much?”

Silver stood frozen. His throat burned. The sting in his left eye flared – tears cutting through old scars like salt. His chest felt too tight to breathe. Maybe she was right. Maybe it wasn’t fair that he was still here.

Kate’s voice softened, almost pitying. “She felt bad for you, Arthur. She pitied you. She loved you, and this is how you honor her?”

Silver’s breath came out uneven. His right eye stung with tears, his left seared with a dull, phantom pain that crawled up behind his scar. The memories pressed hard against his skull – every word, every scream, every second of being alive when he shouldn’t have been.

Maybe she was right. Maybe he shouldn’t be here.

He forced himself to look up, jaw tight, voice raw. “You think you know me. You think you know what she meant to me.” His voice cracked. “But you don’t.”

Kate smiled faintly, cruel and sad all at once. “I think I do.”

She turned, walking off into the dark – her figure swallowed by the fog between the graves.

Silver stayed there, standing in front of Allison’s name etched into the stone. His breath hitched, and the world around him blurred.

He knelt slowly, pressing his trembling hand to the headstone.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, voice breaking. “I’m so sorry.”

💰

The next morning, Silver sat slouched in the backseat of Lydia’s car as she drove toward the school. Ren sat in the passenger seat, animatedly talking, while Silver’s thoughts were miles away. His aunt’s words from the night before still echoed in his head, every line replaying like a bad dream. No one knew he’d met Kate at Allison’s grave – he hadn’t said a word. Some secrets were too heavy to share.

Kate had always been cruel to him. Her being supernatural now didn’t make her more dangerous – it just made her harder to escape. She’d known exactly where to find him, exactly what to say to make him question everything.

In the front seat, Ren was getting frustrated.
“Come on, Lydia, you had to have felt something before showing up at Derek’s. A pull, a vision – anything?”

Lydia kept her eyes on the road, her tone clipped. “I told you, Ren, I don’t remember.”

“That’s not an answer,” Ren shot back.

Silver barely heard them. The sound of their argument blurred into the background as his thoughts drifted back to Kate’s voice, her words like venom.

A sharp sting pulsed through his left eye – phantom pain, the kind that didn’t belong to any fresh wound but still made his breath hitch. He pressed his fingers against it, turning slightly toward the window so neither of them would notice.

Lydia caught sight of him in the rearview mirror. “You okay back there?” she asked, her tone softening slightly.

Silver blinked, forcing a small smile. “Yeah. Just tired.”

Ren turned around in his seat, studying him with concern. “You sure? You look kinda – “

“Fine,” Silver interrupted, a little too quickly.

Ren exchanged a look with Lydia but didn’t push. The car fell quiet again.

💰

Scott had insisted on driving, refusing to tell Silver where they were going. When they finally pulled up to the loft, Silver tilted his head, suspicion already written across his face.

“Doesn’t look like Derek’s home…” he said, glancing around as they stepped inside.

“He’s not,” Scott replied casually, leading him toward the open space.

“Then how come we’re stopping here first?” Silver asked, his tone half cautious, half curious.

Scott only smiled. “You’ll see.”

He guided Silver toward the center of the loft where a blanket had been spread out across the floor, surrounded by flickering candles and a small stack of takeout boxes. There was even a cheap little speaker playing quiet music.

Silver blinked, taken aback. “You did not just turn Derek Hale’s loft into a date spot,” he said, voice caught somewhere between impressed and horrified.

Scott knelt down and began unpacking food with a grin. “Technically, it’s a temporary redecoration,” he said.

Silver crossed his arms, fighting a smile. “I can’t believe you broke into Derek’s loft just to – “

“Not breaking in,” Scott interrupted quickly, raising a finger. “Borrowing space. Big difference.” He looked up, his grin bright. “Did you bring a movie?”

Silver pulled a Blu-ray out of his jacket pocket, holding it up triumphantly. “I borrowed it from Stiles. He says you’ve never seen it, and that he’s going to kill you if you don’t.”

Scott squinted at the cover. “Star Wars?” He frowned, flipping it over. “So… this is the fourth one?”

Silver smirked. “No, it’s the first one. Even though it says ‘fourth.'”

Scott blinked. “Then what’s the first one?”

“The fourth one.”

Scott stared at him, brow furrowed in mock confusion before shaking his head. “You know what? Forget the movie.”

Silver chuckled, leaning back on his elbows. The candles flickered around them, their warm light softening the sharp edges of the loft. “So… what’s the plan here, McCall?”

Scott hesitated, then reached beside one of the takeout boxes and pulled out a small, slightly crushed bouquet of white flowers. “This,” he said softly, holding them out. “Thought we deserved to be a normal high school couple for a night.”

For a moment, Silver didn’t move. He just looked at the flowers, then at Scott – the boy with the steady heartbeat and hopeful eyes. “You broke into Derek’s loft for me?” he asked, voice quiet, almost disbelieving.

Scott’s grin softened, turning shy. “Technically… for us.”

Silver set the flowers down beside him, his chest warm, his lips twitching into a soft smile. He leaned closer, voice barely a whisper. “You’re such a dork.”

Scott’s hand brushed against his, fingers finding his and tangling together naturally. “Yeah,” he murmured, eyes glinting with amusement and affection. “But I’m your dork.”

Silver felt his chest ache. His aunt’s voice still echoed in his head, sharp and cruel. You being happy and in love, are you just trying to show how okay you are without your sister?

He was happy. He was in love. But suddenly, he couldn’t tell if that made him selfish.

Scott noticed the change immediately – the flicker of pain that crossed Silver’s face, the way his shoulders tensed and his breathing hitched. “Hey,” Scott murmured, voice soft with concern. “What’s wrong?”

Silver couldn’t answer. His throat felt tight, his lungs refusing to pull in enough air. The edges of his vision blurred, his heart racing as panic crawled up his spine.

“Hey, hey, breathe,” Scott said quickly, his voice steady and grounding. He reached out and cupped Silver’s face, thumbs brushing gently under his eyes. “Look at me, okay? You’re okay.”

Silver’s thoughts spun. Silver looked up at Scott, he hated that he was ruining this perfect night. Silver didn’t want to bother Scott with this. They just got over the deadpool and it was bad enough his aunt and his ex-boyfriend is out for Scott.

Silver took a deep breath. Scott look Silver in the eyes, his voice gentle but sure. “You’re it for me. You always have been.”

Silver let out a shaky laugh, tears mixing with a half-smile. “You can’t just say stuff like that,” he murmured, voice trembling.

Scott smiled – that familiar, lopsided one that always managed to break through Silver’s defenses. “Why not? It’s true. And someday,” he added, brushing a strand of hair from Silver’s face, “we’re gonna get married. You’ll see.”

Silver laughed, but the laugh that took over when he couldn’t cry. For a moment, he liked the selfish thought of being happy. He quickly pulled Scott into a hug, one that brought comfort to the both of them.

Silver wiped his tears quickly, muttering to himself. “I’ll be back. Let me – let me,” he kept repeating, fingers motioning toward his face. Scott chuckled softly, shaking his head as he guided Silver away.

Inside Derek’s bathroom, Silver splashed cold water on his face and stared at his reflection. He usually avoided mirrors, some days it was hard to see anything in yourself when so much of it felt lost.

His left eye was cloudy, almost white, catching the harsh light and giving off a silvery sheen. He let out a bitter chuckle. “Oh, the irony continues,” he muttered, voice quiet. The socket around it was bruised from his fall earlier, and the marks from Deucalion’s claws – though they hadn’t pierced deep – still glowed bright red.

Silver dried his face just as a loud thud echoed from outside the door. “Scott?” he called, stepping out cautiously.

Before he could react, a massive force slammed into him, sending him sprawling across the floor. He scrambled to rise, but a Berserker pinned him down with terrifying strength.

“RAWRRRRRRRRR!!” Kate’s voice rang through the loft, sharp and wild.

“Ugh!” Scott grunted, struggling as he tried to push past the chaos. “What do you want from us?”

Kate’s eyes gleamed with calculated fury as she circled them, claws scraping along the floor. “I want insight, Scott. Insight into why your little pack has managed to destroy everything my family built.”

“To what?” Scott demanded, breathing hard, his claws flickering with tension.

“My family,” Kate said, tilting her head, voice dripping venom. “The Argent family. Four hundred years of power, wealth, and prestige. And yet, in less than a year, all of it… decimated. By you.” She paused, her gaze snapping to Silver. “And then there’s you, Arthur Argent. Named after a king and the so-called heir to this proud bloodline. Weak. Fragile. A scared little boy playing at hero because he can’t face the real world without hiding behind a boyfriend. You think being born an Argent means you matter? You’re nothing but a stain on that family name, a coward with one good eye and a shattered sense of self. Pathetic.”

Silver froze, chest tightening, fists clenching. Rage, fear, and shame collided in his mind, but before he could even respond, Scott stepped in front of him, eyes blazing.

“Don’t. You. Touch him,” Scott growled, his claws extending instinctively, teeth bared.

Kate’s smile curved wider, venomous and gleaming. “Oh, McCall,” she purred, circling them like a predator, “look at you. Always playing the hero. Always trying to fix broken things. You think you can make him something he’ll never be? He’s weak. He’s scared. And he clings to you because he knows it.” Her gaze flicked to Silver, sharp as a blade. “Pathetic. Maybe your friends would still be alive if you’d fallen in love with Allison instead.”

Scott’s entire body went rigid, fury rippling through him. His claws flexed, eyes burning red. “He’s not pathetic,” he said, voice trembling with restrained rage. “He’s mine. And you’re not touching him.”

Kate threw her head back and laughed – a cruel, echoing sound that filled the loft. “No, Scott,” she hissed, stepping closer, eyes flashing. “You don’t get to decide who walks away tonight.” Her grin turned feral. “Because we’re all going. We’re all going to church.”

Before Scott could move, Kate lunged, a roar ripping through the air – savage, unhinged, and triumphant.