Chapter 62

“Is three enough?” Kira asked, eyes flicking between the three laptops as she, Ren, Silver, Scott, Stiles, and Liam huddled around the table.

“Depends on how many cameras they have… but I think so,” Stiles said, thumbs already dancing over the middle keyboard.

Liam looked up, anxiety written across his face. “Are we really doing this?”

“We’re doing it tonight,” Scott said, nodding as if that settled everything.

“But isn’t it kind of dangerous?” Liam asked, voice small.

“It’s incredibly dangerous and borderline idiotic,” Stiles agreed, folding his arms. Silver nodded, hard, more in agreement than commentary.

“Have you guys done something like this before?” Liam asked, trying to steady himself.

Stiles smirked. “Something dangerous? Or something idiotic?”

Ren cut in, squinting at the screens. “From what I’ve seen? Yes to both.” His tone was dry, but his fingers drummed the edge of the table with impatience.

“You don’t have to be part of it if you don’t want to,” Scott said to Liam, like reassurance.

“I’m not scared!” Liam snapped, perking up with forced bravado.

Silver clapped a hand on Liam’s shoulder. “Then you’re officially borderline idiotic like those two. Welcome to the pack.” He grinned, and Stiles and Scott exchanged a look that said offense and pride at once.

Silver’s jaw tightened. He gave Scott a hard look that didn’t miss the stubborn set of the other boy’s shoulders. “We don’t know what’s coming for us if we do this,” Silver said, folding the worry into his voice. “You know that, right?”

Kira exhaled. “How do we know something’s definitely coming?”

“Because the tape from Garrett’s bag said ‘visual confirmation required,'” Scott said, eyes on the far screen. “Simon said the same thing  –  he couldn’t get paid by the Benefactor until he had proof that we were dead.”

“So the idea is,” Stiles put in, “what if you kill someone on the dead pool, but you can’t send the proof?”

“Then you don’t get paid,” Silver finished, crisp and factual.

Liam frowned. “But how does that get us any closer to the Benefactor? He still needs to know the target’s really dead.”

Stiles nodded. “Especially if it’s someone high on the list.”

“If he wants visual confirmation…” Liam trailed off.

“He’s going to have to come to us himself,” Scott finished.

💰

A little while later, Scott lay on his bed, his breathing steady but tense. Silver sat close beside him, one knee bouncing restlessly against the frame while Kira and Noshiko stood at his side. Liam paced at the foot of the bed, his nerves practically vibrating off him.

“Are you guys totally sure about this?” Liam asked, glancing between everyone. His voice cracked slightly.

Silver exhaled through his nose, glancing at Scott. “I think your beta’s kind of nervous,” he said softly, trying to keep his tone calm even though his stomach twisted. “You should probably tell him it’s going to be fine.”

Scott smiled faintly, looking up at Silver and reaching for his hand. “It’s going to be fine.”

Silver raised a brow, squinting playfully to mask the worry tugging at his features. “I said Liam, not me. I’m not worried about this,” he lied.

Liam stopped pacing, looking between them. “So… you’ve done this before, right?” he asked Noshiko.

“I’ve seen it done,” she replied calmly.

“Is that just as good?”

“No,” Noshiko said flatly.

“Mom,” Kira sighed.

“Good!” Noshiko said briskly. “This is a terrible idea.”

Ren, leaning against the doorframe, smirked. “You’re not exactly helping the anxiety in the room, mom.”

Noshiko ignored him and gestured toward Scott. “Put your hand over his heart.”

Scott started to sit up. “Wait – hold on. What happens while I’m out? Am I gonna… feel anything?”

“It might feel like you’re dreaming,” Noshiko replied.

“Good dreams or bad?” he asked.

She shrugged. “I suppose that’s up to you.”

Silver’s chest tightened. His eyes flicked over Scott’s face and he swallowed hard. He hated not knowing what was about to happen. He hated sitting still while someone he loved risked himself again.

Scott noticed his look and smiled gently. “Hey,” he said quietly. “It’s okay.”

Silver tried to return the smile, but it came out shaky. “Yeah,” he murmured. “Just… don’t make this a habit, okay?”

Scott chuckled under his breath and laid back down. Silver’s hand hovered near him, fingers twitching before finally retreating to his lap.

“Okay,” Noshiko said. “Kira.”

Kira took a breath and placed her hand over Scott’s chest. The air grew thick with static.

“Wait – ” Silver started, but it was too late.

A surge of electricity burst through the air, lighting up the room. Scott gasped, his body jerking as the current coursed through him. Silver flinched hard, his heart pounding against his ribs. He reached forward instinctively, fingers brushing Scott’s arm.

💰

Paramedics rushed to the back of the ambulance, flinging the doors open as the gurney was pulled out. Silver’s car screeched to a halt beside them, his door barely shutting as he jumped out, heart pounding in his chest.

“Move – please – ” he muttered, pushing past a few nurses as they wheeled the gurney through the emergency bay doors. The blinding fluorescent lights made everything feel too real  –  the smell of antiseptic, the shouts of orders, the sound of rubber soles on tile.

Silver followed close behind, breath shallow, watching as Dr. Geyer stepped forward, snapping on gloves and grabbing the defibrillator paddles.

“Clear!” the doctor shouted, pressing the paddles against the patient’s chest. The body jolted  –  but the monitor stayed flat, the piercing tone of the heart monitor filling the room.

Silver froze a few feet away, his hands trembling. His throat felt tight, every breath shaky and uneven.

“Still asystole,” one of the nurses said urgently.

“Continue chest compressions and charge to three-sixty,” Dr. Geyer ordered. The nurse started compressions, counting under her breath as the doctor recharged the paddles.

“Clear!”

The shock hit again  –  the monitor flickered  –  and then flatlined once more.

“Nothing. Still asystole,” Dr. Geyer said quietly, his voice lowering as he looked over at the small group gathered at the side. His gaze landed on Silver  –  pale, wide-eyed, tears streaking his cheeks as he covered his mouth with his hand, fighting the urge to break down completely.

The doctor exhaled softly, shoulders heavy. “I’m calling it. Time of death… 2102 hours.”

Silver’s body went rigid, the words hitting him like a blow to the chest. He stumbled back a step, shaking his head as if denial could change it.

A nurse placed a gentle hand on his arm, murmuring something soothing, but Silver barely heard her. His breathing hitched, and he turned away, dragging a hand over his face as his vision blurred with tears.

“Would someone please page Melissa McCall?” Dr. Geyer said quietly.

The room fell silent except for the steady hum of machines and Silver’s quiet, broken breaths

A few minutes later Melissa rushed into the emergency room, eyes rimmed raw, and found Silver standing by the gurney. He looked hollowed out – no longer just crying in the hallway, but shut down and stunned. Melissa grabbed his hand without thinking; they both clung to each other as Dr. Geyer crouched down to explain the attempts to resuscitate Scott.

When the doctor finished, Melissa let out a broken, keening scream. “What happened to my son?” she cried, clutching Silver’s fingers so hard it hurt, and together they sagged to their knees against the tile. Stiles, Kira, Liam and Noshiko hovered nearby, silent and stiff with shock.

Later, in the morgue, the fluorescent lights felt too bright. Melissa still wiped at her face with a trembling hand; Silver stood beside her, face drained but eyes wet. They approached the stainless-steel tray where Scott lay, motionless and pale. The room smelled like metal and cleaning fluid and loss. Stiles hovered at the foot of the table, jaw clenched; Kira, Liam, and Noshiko formed a small, protective semicircle.

“Give me your hand,” Noshiko said softly, holding out her own. Melissa glanced at Silver; he nodded, fingers tight around her knuckles. “It’s okay,” Silver murmured, trying to be steady for her.

Melissa pressed her palm into Noshiko’s. Noshiko placed Melissa’s hand over Scott’s chest and held it there. “Wait for it,” she said.

For a long, impossible second nothing happened. Then Scott’s head twitched, a faint, stubborn beat under Melissa’s palm. Melissa let out a shaky, relieved breath so loud it bordered on a sob.

“Is that enough to keep a werewolf alive?” Melissa asked, voice small.

Noshiko met her eyes. “It’s enough for an alpha.” She folded her hands, solemn.

“How much time do we have?” Melissa asked, looking around at the group as if they might conjure more minutes out of the air.

“Forty-five minutes,” Noshiko said quietly.

Melissa’s face drained of color. “What happens after that?” she asked, the question breaking.

Kira’s voice was immediate, determined. “I bring him back the same way.”

Melissa’s look pleaded for a different answer. “No  –  I mean, if he stays like this longer than forty-five minutes? What then?”

Silver drew a long breath and, in a voice that was almost a whisper and somehow too clear, said the thing none of them wanted to say. “He dies.”

💰

Silver, Stiles, Kira, Ren, and Liam stood clustered around a hospital bed, the glow of three laptops illuminating their faces. The screens flickered with live feeds from the hospital’s security cameras.

“Try it now,” Argent’s voice came through the phone speaker.

Stiles hit a key on the middle laptop, and the feeds stabilized  –  every hallway, stairwell, and doorway popping into view. For a moment, everything seemed calm.

“Is that supposed to look like that?” Liam asked, pointing to one of the screens as the image suddenly flickered. The camera feed jittered, static tearing across the picture before it went completely black.

“No… no, it’s not,” Stiles muttered, leaning closer.

“Where is that?” Kira asked, stepping forward.

“The roof,” Silver answered, eyes narrowing as he zoomed in on the frozen frame. “Someone’s gonna have to check it out.”

“I’ll go,” Kira said immediately, already moving toward the door.

Ren threw up a hand, stepping in front of her. “Whoa, whoa  –  this might not just be a malfunction. You don’t go chasing spooky rooftop static alone.”

“That’s why I’m bringing this,” Kira said, holding up her katana.

Ren looked at her blade, then shrugged. “Good enough for me.”

Before anyone could argue, Kira was already halfway down the hall, Liam jogging after her. “I’m coming with you!” he called.

“Okay! And you’re both coming right back! Immediately!” Stiles shouted after them, exasperated. He turned back to Silver with a sigh. “Kids.”

Silver gave him a small, dry smile and adjusted the strap on his shoulder. The crossbow resting against his side gleamed faintly under the hospital lights. “You say that like you’re not one of them,” he said softly, but his eyes were locked on the monitors again.

Ren stood behind them, hands in his pockets, watching the screens with unease.

Silver glanced at his phone  –  the timer on the countdown hadn’t moved much, but every second felt heavier. “That can’t be good,” he muttered.

Stiles followed his gaze, and his stomach dropped. One by one, every camera feed flickered out until all three laptops showed nothing but static.

Ren took a step back, tension building in his voice. “So… we should probably go to the morgue, right?”

Without another word, the three of them took off down the corridor,

They sprinted down the hall, the overhead lights flickering weakly as the emergency generators strained to keep up. Just as they turned the corner, a shadow moved – Argent stepped out of it, his gun instantly snapping up, barrel aimed straight at Silver.

Before he even had time to think, Silver reacted. The moment his instincts screamed danger, he twisted to the side, grabbed Argent’s wrist, and spun the older man’s arm outward. In one smooth motion, Silver slammed him back against the wall, disarming him and pressing the crossbow against his father’s chest.

The sound of the gun clattering to the floor echoed down the hallway.

Argent froze, startled for only a heartbeat – then a flicker of something else crossed his face. Not anger. Not shock. Pride.

Silver blinked, his chest heaving, realizing who he was holding. He lowered the crossbow immediately, eyes wide. “Dad – damn it, don’t do that!”

Argent rubbed his wrist with a short laugh. “I was about to say the same thing. Nice reflexes, though.”

“Nice reflexes?” Silver shot back, exasperated. “You almost got shot.”

“Almost,” Argent said, still looking faintly proud. “But I didn’t. And now I know you can handle yourself.”

Silver just stared at him for a beat, shaking his head. “Unbelievable,” he muttered, bending to scoop up the dropped gun before shoving it into his father’s hand. “Next time, announce yourself.”

“The power’s out in the whole building,” Stiles said breathlessly, catching up. “I lost all the cameras – everything’s dark.”

Argent gave a tight nod, already scanning the hallway behind them. “Stay with Scott,” he ordered. “Text me if you see or hear anything. Understood?”

They all nodded, and without another word, Argent turned and disappeared down the corridor, boots echoing off the tile.

Silver, Stiles, and Ren rushed the last stretch to the morgue. The air grew colder the closer they got, and the low hum of fluorescent lights faded completely.

At the door, Silver slowed, pressing his back against the cold metal where Scott’s body lay behind it. His grip tightened on the crossbow, knuckles white. He could feel his pulse in his throat.

Stiles began pacing, rubbing a hand through his hair, every few seconds glancing toward the darkened hallway.

A few tense seconds passed before Silver pulled out his phone, his hand trembling slightly as he pressed the call button.

“Come on, come on…” he muttered under his breath. “Answer the phone. Answer the phone, Dad! Come on, Dad, pick up – why aren’t you answering?”

Before he could try again, the morgue doors burst open with a crash. Argent came flying through, slamming into the floor with a harsh grunt.

“I was right!” he shouted, pushing himself up. “Boys – get out of here!”

They didn’t have time to move before a familiar voice echoed through the morgue.

“Well, well…” Kate drawled, stepping through the doors like she owned the place, a cruel smirk curving her lips. “It’s funny, really. How people always seem to die around you, Silver.”

Silver froze for a second, chest tightening. Then his expression hardened, and he raised his crossbow steadily toward her.

“You don’t scare me, Kate. Not anymore.”

A low, cold voice came from behind her.
“Are you sure about that?”

Silver’s blood ran cold.

Michael stepped out from behind Kate, his gaze dark and conflicted, but his presence beside her was enough to make everyone’s stomach drop. The shock hit like a wave – none of them could quite believe what they were seeing.

“Michael…” Silver breathed, disbelief and heartbreak threading through his tone.

Ren lifted a hand, breaking the tension just slightly. “You need, like… visual confirmation or something?” he said dryly.

Kate chuckled. “Don’t worry, sweetheart – I’m not the Benefactor.”

“Then what do you want with the body?” Argent growled, standing again and raising his gun.

“I wish I could tell you,” Kate purred, just before Argent lunged forward, pressing the barrel of his gun under her chin.

Kate laughed, the sound like broken glass. “Right. I always forget – you carry two.”

“Back off,” Argent snapped, gun leveled at her.

“You sure you can pull the trigger fast enough?” she taunted, stepping closer.

Argent’s voice stayed flat. “I don’t want to.”

“You’re not going to kill me.”

“No,” Argent said, low and steady, “but I’m not going to let you take his body.”

Stiles, suddenly aware of how ridiculous he sounded, tried to defuse the tension. “Okay, so, you guys clearly have some… family trauma to unpack, and I saw a vending machine down the hall – maybe I’ll – “

“Stay right there, Stilinski.” Michael’s voice cut across the room, cold and clipped. He had a gun trained; his eyes were fixed on Silver.

Silver stepped forward, chest tight. “You got the list. So how many innocent people have you killed, Michael? One? Five? Ten?”

Michael’s mouth quirked, half amusement, half cruelty. “My bank account’s looking really nice,” he replied, casual as a remark about the weather.

Silver was confused — none of it made sense. Michael standing there, next to Kate, a gun aimed at him — it was wrong, it was impossible. But even through the shock and fear, Silver saw it.

In Michael’s eyes, beneath all the fury and darkness, there was pain — raw, aching pain. The kind you couldn’t hide even if you wanted to. The kind that came from losing someone you loved and not knowing how to live with it.

For a second, Silver forgot about the gun, forgot about Kate’s smirk and the chaos around them. All he could see was Michael, the boy who used to smile like the world wasn’t broken, now looking at him like he was the reason it shattered.”Listen to me, Kate  –  we have a plan,” Argent pressed, trying to keep his voice even.

“If killing Scott was part of it, you’re worse than me,” Kate shot back.

Her gaze flicked to Silver then, sharp and suddenly private. “You always try to protect him, Chris. But all you ever do is hurt him.”

Silver didn’t wait for anyone to speak for him. He stepped up, voice steady despite the jitter in his hands. “He’s telling the truth. We’re trying to get to the Benefactor.”

Argent nodded once. “If you didn’t notice, you’re on that list too. You’re worth more than most.”

“That’s why I’m here,” Kate said simply, and for a heartbeat the room stilled.

“Then back off and let us finish this.” Argent’s plea had an edge to it now  –  tired, pleading.

Behind Kate, Michael’s jaw clenched. He shifted the gun slightly; its muzzle tracked Silver. The movement was small but deliberate. His face tightened into something unreadable  –  grief laced with rage.

Without warning Michael raised the weapon, holding it steady, aimed at Silver’s chest.

Kate snapped, spinning and grabbing his arm. “Stop it,” she hissed, hard enough that Michael flinched. “Not now.”

Argent’s watch began to beep: three minutes left on the countdown. The sound was absurdly loud in the tense hush.

“Kate,” Argent said, quieter this time. “Take the Berserkers and go. Please.”

For a long beat she only stared at him – then she loosened her grip on Michael and stepped back. “Fine,” she muttered. “But this isn’t over.”

She grabbed Michael’s wrist, dragging him toward the door. He resisted for a second, his gaze locking with Silver’s – haunted, angry, lost – before finally letting her pull him out.

Seconds later, Kira burst into the morgue, breathless. Silver didn’t hesitate – he rushed forward, helping her pull Scott’s body from the cold tray. Kira placed her hand over his chest, eyes glowing as electricity arced through her fingers.

Scott’s body jolted – then he gasped, sitting up with a sharp yell.

Silver let out a shaky breath, lowering his crossbow. Relief flooded his face.
“Let’s not do something like this again,” he muttered, voice soft but trembling.

Scott managed a weak smile and nodded. “Agreed.”

Before anyone could say another word, Liam came running in, out of breath and wide-eyed.
He looked directly at Kira and Ren.

“What?” Kira asked, frowning.

“It’s your mother…” Liam said, his voice breaking. “She’s hurt.”

💰

Silver sat on the edge of the bed, his phone pressed to his ear as Lydia’s voice crackled softly through the line.

“Ren’s been quiet since his dad dropped him off here,” Lydia said. “He seems in shock, but he’s not annoying me, so… small miracles.”

Silver exhaled softly, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. “Kira took the ride with her mom, and I guess Ren felt like he’d just be in the way down there.”

“He filled me in on what I missed,” Lydia continued. “Said you left out a few details when you told Scott the story.”

Silver rubbed a tired hand down his face. “Please don’t,” he muttered. “I don’t have the energy for this, Lydia.”

“But you’ve got the energy to ignore it? To suffer alone?” Lydia’s tone softened, though her words hit their mark. “Not everything can be fixed like this, little Argent. You know that.”

He paused, eyes closing for a beat. “Why not?” he muttered  –  and ended the call.

The soft click of disconnection sounded too final. The room fell quiet, heavy with everything unsaid.

The door creaked open, and Scott stepped inside. His presence filled the silence  –  warm, grounding, steady. He crossed the room without a word and sat beside Silver, the mattress dipping under his weight.

“You okay?” Scott asked quietly, his voice a soft rumble. He reached out, his hand moving in slow, gentle circles on Silver’s back  –  a rhythm that steadied Silver’s breathing.

Silver gave a shallow nod, but Scott could tell it wasn’t true. “Noshiko was taken to a hospital in Palo Alto,” Silver said finally. His voice sounded distant, detached.

“That’s good,” Scott said softly. But Silver didn’t look relieved. His gaze stayed far away, fixed on something Scott couldn’t see.

“You’ve got something on your mind,” Scott murmured, thumb brushing against the edge of a tense muscle.

Silver turned toward him then, their eyes meeting. “You always know when something’s wrong, don’t you?”

Scott smiled faintly, the expression gentle and tired all at once. “When it’s you? Yeah. Kind of hard not to.”

Silver’s lips twitched into a small, fleeting smile. “Have you ever thought about what life would be like if we didn’t have to deal with any of this? The supernatural, the fighting?”

Scott chuckled softly. “We wouldn’t have met.”

Silver raised a brow. “You really think that?”

Scott nodded, smiling now, a little more sure of himself. “Even if you’d moved here, you wouldn’t have noticed me. You’d be too cool  –  hanging out with Lydia and her friends. I’d just be some guy watching from across the room, trying not to stare.”

Silver’s lips curved, amusement flickering through the exhaustion. “You’d stare?”

Scott’s smile softened. “Yeah. Probably every day.”

For a moment, neither of them moved. The air between them thickened  –  quiet, close, electric. Scott’s hand stilled on Silver’s back, resting just above his waist. Then, with a soft shift of the mattress, Scott sat up and drew Silver closer, tucking him gently against his chest.

Scott’s arms tightened around him, his chin brushing the top of Silver’s head. “I don’t think,” he murmured, voice low and certain. “I know.”

Silver’s breath came out uneven, like he wanted to believe it but didn’t quite know how. Scott could feel it  –  the weight in Silver’s silence, the way his shoulders tensed even in the safety of his arms.

Scott smiled faintly, trying to cut through the heaviness. “It’d probably be Stiles and me pining over you and Lydia from across the cafeteria.”

Silver huffed out a shaky laugh, the sound small but real. “You wouldn’t stand a chance,” he said under his breath.

“Yeah?” Scott asked, grinning now. “Maybe not. But I’d still try.”

For a long moment, neither said anything. The world outside the window felt miles away.

Then Silver tilted his head, his eyes meeting Scott’s again. Scott smiled faintly, thumb tracing the edge of Silver’s jaw. For a moment, neither spoke  –  just the sound of breathing and the faint hum of the world outside the window.

Then Silver’s lips parted in a whisper. “Scott…”

Scott smiled faintly, brushing his thumb along Silver’s jaw. “Yeah?”

Silver leaned in, just enough for their foreheads to touch. “Don’t ever stop looking at me like that.”

Scott’s reply came soft, certain. “Not a chance.”

The werewolf’s broad frame pressed close, his warm breath mingling with Silver’s as their lips met in a slow, lingering kiss. Scott’s mouth was firm yet gentle, drawing Silver in deeper.

Silver’s hand slid up Scott’s chest, fingers tracing the hard ridges of muscle beneath the thin fabric of his shirt. The scars on Silver’s left side tingled faintly as he shifted to Scott’s lap, his blind eye hidden in the shadows, but he felt everything – the heat radiating from Scott’s body, the subtle rumble in the werewolf’s throat that vibrated against his lips. They kissed like they had all night, unhurried, savoring the way their breaths synced, the soft pull and release that built a quiet fire between them.

Scott broke the kiss first, only to trail his lips along Silver’s jaw, nipping lightly at the edge of a scar that curved down his neck. ‘You don’t even realize how much I love you, do you?’ Scott murmured, his voice a low growl that sent shivers across Silver’s skin. His hand found Silver’s waist, thumb circling the dip of his hipbone through the sheet, teasing the boundary between fabric and flesh.

Silver chuckled softly, the sound muffled as he captured Scott’s mouth again, deeper this time. He pressed closer, their bodies aligning, chests heaving in rhythm. One of Silver’s hands ventured lower, slipping under Scott’s shirt to glide over his abdomen, feeling Scott’s muscles flex under his touch. Scott responded in kind, his fingers dipping beneath the waistband of Silver’s pants, not pushing further but hovering there.

The air grew thick with their shared warmth, kisses turning heated, breaths coming faster. Scott’s free hand cupped the back of Silver’s neck, holding him steady as their mouths moved together, tongues dancing in a sensual rhythm. Silver’s scars seemed to fade in the intensity, his good eye fluttering shut as he lost himself in the moment, his fingers splaying across Scott’s back, pulling him nearer. Teasing touches lingered – Scott’s palm pressing flat against Silver’s thigh, inching upward slowly, deliberately, building the anticipation without crossing into more.

When Silver finally pulled back, his breath trembled against Scott’s lips, Lydia’s words lingering in his head. “I need to tell you something,” he said softly.

Scott’s brow furrowed, his hand still resting against Silver’s side. “What is it?”

Silver hesitated  –  the warmth of the moment slipping away as guilt edged into his voice. “I lied earlier… about Kate. She wasn’t alone.”

Scott’s eyes narrowed slightly. “What do you mean?”

Silver swallowed hard. “Michael was there.”