Chapter 21

Scott leads the four of them to a neon-lit club called The Jungle. The music inside thumps like a heartbeat. As Scott slows near the back entrance, he spins around, startled by the sudden sound of running footsteps behind him.

“Sorry! I’m sorry!” Stiles says, bumping into Scott. “Did you see where he went?” Silver asks joining them.

“I lost him.” Scott shakes his head. “What? You couldn’t catch his scent?”Stiles asked. Scott glances around the alley, “I don’t think he has one.” He says.

“Alright. Any clue where he’s going?” Stiles asks.

“To kill someone.” Scott says.
“Are you two really that stupid?” Michael screams at them annoyed at their banter. “Can we please stop with the sarcastic comments and focus on stopping it from killing someone?”

Scott steps subtly in front of Silver when he notices him flinch at Michael’s tone.

“Hey, I’m 147 pounds of pale skin and fragile bone, okay? Sarcasm is my only defense.” Stiles raises a hand in surrender.

“Not it. Jackson. Whether we like it or not, he’s still a kid we go to school with.” Scott says. “But does he know that? Did anyone else see him back at your house?” Michael argues back.

“I mean… I don’t think so. But he passed Derek’s test already, didn’t he?” Scott says. ” Yeah, but that’s the thing — how did he pass it?” Michael

Silver pauses, wheels turning. He suddenly spins back toward the group. “Wait. What if it’s like an either-or thing?”

“Derek said that a snake can’t be poisoned by its own venom, right? When is the Kanima not the Kanima?” Stiles agrees with Silver.

“When it’s Jackson.”

” Uh… guys?”

The three turn to Stiles, who’s slowly backing up. They follow his gaze — a scaled tail disappears through a door into the club.

“He’s inside.” Michael groans. “What’s he gonna do in there?” Silver asks. Scott scans the club line — his eyes land on someone familiar. I know who he’s after.

” What? How? Did you smell something?” Stiles asks.

“Armani.”

The four rush toward the backdoor. Stiles yanks on the handle — nothing.

“Ah, come on. Maybe there’s a window we can climb through?” Stiles starts looking around the door.

Michael scoffs, steps forward, and kicks the door open with one sharp blow. It creaks inward.

“You’re welcome.” He motions for the others to go in first. Silver lingers at the threshold. Scott notices and reaches out, taking his hand without thinking.

“Come on.”

Scott pulls him through the door.

“Dude, everyone in here is a dude. I think we’re in a gay club.” Scott shouts over the music to Stiles, “Man nothing gets past those keen werewolf senses huh, Scott.” Silver looks over to see Stiles surrounded by Drag Queens and he chuckles.

Silver looks around the club as someone bumps into him making her bump into Scott. “Sorry.” He whispers to him. Scott doesn’t say a word as he stares at Silver, his arms around his waist and his hands on his chest. “Are you okay?” Scott asks, “He’s not bothering you, right?”

“I’m fine. We’re fine. He’s fine.” Silver says, trying to calm his boyfriend down. “Let’s just find Jackson, okay?” Silver says with a half confident smile. He grabs Scott’s hand, squeezing it.

“We should find Stiles.” Michael taps Silver’s shoulder, pulling his attention from Scott. Scott leads them to Stiles on the other side of the bar.

Silver and Michael both stand back, Michael and Silver both looking around for the Kanima.

“Silver, we got a problem.” Michael tries to shout over the music. Michael pulls out his phone to show his text messages with his dad. “We need to find this thing before they do.”

“We will.”

“We have to find it tonight.” Michael urges.

“I found Danny.” Stiles shouts to the three teens.

“I found it.”

“I found Jackson.”

Michael and Scott are both looking at the ceiling.  points at Silver and Scott both look up to the ceiling, “We found Jackson.”

“Get Danny.”

“What are you gonna do?” Silver asks Scott, his eyes locked on the Kanima across the room.

“Works for me,” Stiles mutters, glancing down as Scott’s claws extend.

Stiles grabs Silver’s arm and pulls him into the crowd. Behind them, Michael trails closely, scanning the chaos with narrowed eyes.

“Danny!” Stiles and Silver shout as they push through the bodies.

“Danny?” Silver echoes, glancing around — no sign of anyone they know.

The fog thickens. The crowd presses in. Michael bumps into Silver’s back as they’re shoved by a wave of panicked dancers. Silver stumbles, looks up — the Kanima has vanished in the haze.

“Shit,” he mutters, realizing bodies are starting to hit the floor.

“Scott!” Silver calls out, making for the exit.

Outside, the night air is cold and sharp. Silver stops suddenly, nose wrinkling — the smell of blood hits him fast.

A trail runs across the pavement, dark and wet under the streetlights.

“Scott?” he calls again, more cautious now.

Scott appears just ahead, kneeling beside someone. Silver jogs up, Michael right behind him. Jackson is collapsed on the concrete, coughing violently.

Silver’s eyes widen.

“What the hell?”

🦎

The club’s chaos has dimmed to aftermath: police tape flutters in the breeze, red and blue lights paint the pavement, and an ambulance idles by the curb. EMTs move in and out, tending to partygoers and giving statements. The crowd has thinned to a handful of witnesses and responders.

Across the lot, in the shadows of the parking lot, Michael’s car is parked with the engine off.

Silver stands at the hood, arms crossed tightly, face drawn. His eyes haven’t left Scott once. There’s a tremor in his jaw, a low fire behind his eyes that hasn’t cooled since they escaped the club.

Michael sits in the driver’s seat, watching him through the windshield. After a moment, he opens the door and steps out, walking around to Silver. “Silver, we really should get going.” Michael says.

“Not until he leaves. I want to be here… if something happens.”Silver says, his eys on still on Scott.

Michael sighs, shoving his hands in his jacket pockets. “You can’t be seen with him. That’s the whole point of why we are over here, remember?”

A beat of silence.
“My dad’s probably already on his way. Yours too. You want them seeing you like this? Staring after Scott like—”

“I just want to make sure he’s okay. Then we leave.” Silver shouts over Michael.

And from across the lot, Scott finally looks up — just for a second. His eyes meet Silver’s but Scott’s attention is pulled away once he enters Stiles’ Jeep.

The Argents’ SUV has just pulled in. Headlights sweep across the lot, slow and searching.

“Times up.”

Michael steps in—grabs the back of Silver’s neck, and kisses him.

It’s sudden. Firm. Calculated.

Silver freezes.

There’s a sharp intake of breath. His eyes widened, body going stiff under Michael’s hand. He doesn’t pull away—he doesn’t move at all.

When they separate, Silver stares at him, stunned.  “What… what was that?”

Michael looks at him — not smug, not smiling.
Just steady. Certain. And beneath it all, a flicker of something soft.

“Doing the right thing.” Michael whispers quietly.

He says it with full weight — not just about them, but about the distraction, the timing, the eyes they needed to divert. Because both their fathers are almost here. And this was the only move that would pull focus.

A beat. Silver blinks, processing. His lips part like he wants to say something — but then,

“Silver?”

They turn to see Argent approaching, eyes full of concern, confusion etched across his face. “Are you okay? What are you doing here?”

Silver opens his mouth but no sound comes out. The flush on his face is instant—equal parts panic and disbelief.

Michael, ever steady, steps in, slipping an arm around Silver, pulling him into a half-hug that looks natural.

“I thought we could do something fun, Silver and I,” Michael says, wrapping his arm around Silver, pulling him close, “Like old times.” Michael stares straight at his dad with a smile reaching his eyes.

“Take your son home, Argent.” Thomas says. “Michael and I will go looking for this thing.”

Silver pulls away from Michael—abrupt, unspoken. Thomas takes Silver’s place next to Michael, grabbing Michael’s shoulder. “I’ll let you know if we find anything.” Thomas says. Argent stares at the Hearts, before nodding and leaving to join Silver in the car.

Michael and Thomas watch the Argents leave, the older Heart with a smirk on his face. “Just like old times?” Thomas teases, “Keep it up. Make me proud.” nudging his son before getting in the car.

Michael chuckles as he glances up to see the blue Jeep still in the parking lot  watching as the Argents leave. He glances up to see the blue Jeep in the parking lot.

“Good.” Michael mutters.

🦎

The blinds are cracked just enough to let in the gray light of a cloudy morning. Silver sits on the edge of his bed, half-dressed, staring at nothing. His hoodie is still in his lap, his scars staring back at him.

The door creeps open, and Argent steps in quietly. He looks rested, but tense — like he hasn’t exhaled since the night before.

“You’re not going in today.”He says while closing the door behind him. Silver doesn’t respond at first. Just rubs the heel of his palm against his brow. He slips on his hoodie, letting the sleeves cover his scars.

“I’m fine.” Silver mutters, not meeting his dad’s eyes.  Silver’s eyes flicker up, but his face gives away nothing.
“I’m not asking for an explanation. I’m asking you to stay home.”

Silver exhales slowly. Tension still lives in his shoulders, in the way his hands are clenched.

Argent watches him for a moment. When he speaks again, his tone has softened. “You don’t have to tell me anything. Not yet. But if what I saw last night was real… just know that it doesn’t change anything for me.”

That gets a flicker of reaction — barely a breath of surprise in Silver’s eyes.

“You’re my son. That’s never been conditional.”

Silver looks down at his hands.  “I didn’t mean to make it messy.” Argent walks forward and places a hand gently on his shoulder.  “Life’s messy. You’re allowed to be, too.”

He squeezes once, then turns for the door. Just before he opens it—
“Get some rest today. You need it. We’ll figure out the tomorrow later.”

And with that, he leaves, the door clicking shut behind him.

{Flashback}

Silver sits there in the silence that follows, the hoodie still in his lap, the question of what it meant still hanging in the air — unanswered even for himself.

The sterile hum of machines filled the dim hospital room. Beeps echoed in slow, steady rhythm.

Silver stirred. His eyes fluttered against the light, body sluggish and foreign. His limbs didn’t respond — a weight pressed on everything, like he was underwater.

He tried to speak, but it came out hoarse, dry. His throat burned. “Wh… where…?”

The brightness above dimmed slowly, enough for him to crack open his eyes.

The ceiling tiles came into focus first. Then the blur of a figure at his side.

“Silver?”

A familiar hand cupped the side of his face, gentle but trembling.

Silver tried to sit up. He couldn’t. His arms wouldn’t move.

His breathing picked up — too fast, too loud. The heart monitor spiked in rhythm.

“Hey—hey. It’s okay. You’re okay now. Breathe, son.”

He moved in quickly, pulling Silver to his chest, wrapping him tight in his arms as Silver’s body shook. “They were chasing me…They had bows… they shot at me…

His voice cracked — frightened and confused. His eyes filled, though he didn’t quite cry.”

Argent pressed his lips to Silver’s forehead. “They won’t touch you again. I promise.”

He held him tighter.

But his eyes flicked to the thick gauze wrapped around Silver’s arms and side. The bruises, the ragged, unnatural slashes that didn’t come from an arrow. Not all of them.

“What happened?” Silver quietly asked.

Argent swallowed, choosing silence over lies.
“You’re safe now.”

That’s all he could offer. All Silver could handle.

He tucked his chin atop his son’s head.

{Flashback}

🦎

The corridors buzz with students moving to first period, but Scott moves like a hunter—quiet, focused, and angry. His eyes lock on Michael, leaning against a locker like he’s been waiting for a fight and enjoying the wait.

Michael catches sight of him, tilts his head, and smirks like he’s just been handed a gift.

“That walk’s got weight, McCall.” He says grinning.

Scott doesn’t slow. He stops right in front of him, close enough to speak low, loud enough to hit.”You didn’t have to do it. You didn’t have to touch him.”

“Touch him? Scott, I kissed him like I meant it. I sold the lie. You should be thanking me. Silver’s dad took the bait.” Michael said mockling. “He’s safe now. That was the whole point… wasn’t it?”

Scott’s jaw tightens. His voice drops. “You think pretending to care about him makes this okay?”Michael’s smile doesn’t falter, but his tone turns quieter — more deliberate.

“Who says I was pretending?”

Scott stiffens — one second, one breath — and that’s all Michael needs to see.
“He didn’t pull away, by the way. In case you were wondering.  He looked at me like he still remembered how it felt. Like some part of him still… wanted it.”

Scott tries not to flinch, but Michael steps in, always knowing where to press.

“I mean, if you’re gonna hide what you are together, if you’re gonna lie to the people you love — don’t act so surprised if someone else tells a better one.”

Scott’s voice is cold, but low — nearly a growl. “Whatever this is you’re doing, Silver doesn’t deserve it. You don’t get to come back into his life and confuse him just because you’re bitter or bored.”

“Bitter? Nah. Bored? A little. But confused?” “Michael cocks his head. “That’s on him. And maybe on you, if you’re not giving him what he needs.”.

Scott’s about to say something — something probably regrettable — when Allison appears, sliding into the space between them with a practiced kind of grace.

“Mikey? Scott?”

Michael turns, and there’s Allison, calm and collected with a hand on her backpack strap. Her tone is neutral — but the nickname lingers in the air.

“Liss. I was having such a lovely chat with Scott here.” Michael slowly smiles, turning to Allison.

“We should go.”

She grabs his sleeve, already turning toward the stairs. Michael glances back at Scott, his expression unreadable — part smug, part something darker.

As they walk off, Scott watches — eyes narrowed, fists clenched. But he notices something else too.

The way Allison didn’t quite let go of Michael’s arm right away.

The way Michael didn’t resist.

And for the first time, Scott realizes he might not be the only one with something to lose.

🦎

“Dad, I’m still going to Lydia’s tonight.” Silver screams, walking down his steps. He stops in his tracks to see Gerard in his family room.

“I think you should stay home, Silver. We have a lot to talk about.” Argent says, a sympathetic smile on his face. “What are you studying?” Gerard asks. “We’re prepping for our world history midterm.” Silver answers.

“History was one of my favorites, especially military history. Ever hear the phrase, “Know thy enemy?” Gerard asks. “It’s from The Art of War by Sun Tzu.” Silver nods, answering.

“Very good! Know what it means?”

“In order to win a battle, one must know everything they can about their enemy.”

“Right again. Your father and I happen to be having that very problem– we’ve got an enemy about which we know next to nothing. It’s killed one of our own, among others.”

“I’ve heard.”

“What were you doing last nigt at the Jungle, Arthur?” Gerard asks Silver. “I was with Michael.” Silver answered quietly. Gerard took a few steps closer to Silver. “We, we-” Silver stutters. He darts his eyes between his dad and Thomas Heart, both staring him down.

“Well, let me tell you what I know– I know that a teenager’s first instinct is to protect their friends, and I believe my grandson would always want to protect his friends, even if it meant lying. So, I want to ask one more question, and this time, with a small advantage.”

“Dad.” Argent calls out. “I’m not going to hurt you. I just want to get a sense of your pulse. Think of it as a game– all you have to do is tell the truth.” Gerard places his fingers on the pulse of Silver’s neck.

“What were you doing there last night, Arthur?”

“I was with Michael.”

“Does this have anything to do with Scott?

“No.” Silver spits out. Silver staggers back from Gerard, tripping on the steps. “I mean, I don’t-I don’t know.” Silver backtracks.

“Your pulse jumped…”

“You’re scaring me,” Silver said quietly.

“Oh, my apologies,” Gerard replied, his voice coated in false politeness. “That may have been a bit much.”

“Michael kissed me,” Silver confessed, letting the lie slide out effortlessly. “He wants to try again.”

“I told him I’d think about it.”

The three Argents reacted in their own way. Argent looked at his son with quiet sympathy. Gerard’s expression brimmed with pride for his grandson. And Silver—
Silver felt nothing at all.

🦎

“Your dad said I could come in.”

Silver shifts groggily in bed, blinking against the filtered light. Michael lingers by the doorway, hesitant, like he’s not sure how close he’s allowed to be.

“Everyone missed you at school. And by everyone, I mean your sister, Scott, your mom… and me.”He edges toward the bed, sitting on the corner of it with a familiar ease. He taps Silver’s foot lightly with his own, a cautious nudge.

Silver lets out a low breath — part exhale, part scoff.

“I know you’re lying. You said my mom missed me.”

He groans and slowly pushes himself up to sit. A beat. His voice is more careful now.

“Did my dad… say anything to you?”

“Not much. Just that I could stop by. Thought you could use some company.”

Silver nods slightly but says nothing. His hands fiddle with the sleeves of his hoodie, tugging them down, then pushing them back up. There’s something else clawing at his chest.

“Michael… did Scott say anything?”

Michael tenses. “About what?” Silver looks up, finally. His voice is hoarse but urgent now.  “About that night. At the club. Did he see us?”

Michael hesitates. He doesn’t lie — but he doesn’t tell the whole truth either.

“He didn’t bring it up. So maybe not.”

Silver nods again, too quickly, but it’s not relief — it’s a cover. His fingers clench into the hem of his sleeve.  “I keep thinking… if he did see, and he hasn’t said anything, then maybe he’s just waiting. Or maybe he’s mad. Or—”

He cuts himself off, jaw tightening. Michael studies him closely.
“He’s not gonna say anything. I promise.”

“You kissed me, Michael. In front of everyone. You didn’t even look at me first. Didn’t give me a choice.”

Michael shifts in his seat, guilty. “It wasn’t about you. Not like that. It was about them. Getting our families off our backs.”

Silver’s head turns sharply. “Right. Of course. Use me to make a point. Use me so they’ll stop breathing down your neck.”

“It wasn’t like that—”

“Then what was it like?”

Michael stares at him, but doesn’t have an answer that would make it better. Not one Silver wants to hear. “I’m sorry I didn’t ask. I was thinking about what would work… not how it’d feel for you.”

Silver lets out a bitter laugh, hollow. “You don’t get to drop a bomb like that and walk away pretending it’s strategy.”

A pause. Michael stands slowly, like he wants to close the distance — but doesn’t.

“You’re not the only one carrying this, Silver.” He watches Silver wrestle with his thoughts, with the weight of it all. “I didn’t just come to apologize. I came to get you.”

Silver looks up, confused.

“Why?”

🦎

The five teens—Scott, Silver, Allison, Stiles, and Michael—walk to the cliff’s edge overlooking the woods, the sun casting long shadows over the trees below.

“If Jackson doesn’t even remember being the Kanima, he’s definitely not gonna remember stealing Danny’s tablet.” Allison says. “Okay, but why would he steal it if he doesn’t know what’s on it?” Stiles asks.

“What if… someone else took it?” Allison questions – they all exchange a look.

“Then somebody else knows what he is.” Silver points out. “Which means someone could be protecting him. Didn’t the bestiary say, “The Kanima seeks a friend”?

Allison nods slowly, thoughtful.

“Hold up. So… someone watches Jackson record a video of himself turning into a monster and then edits it—just enough so he doesn’t know?” Stiles asks. “But who would do that?”

“Someone who wants to protect him?” Michael asks, he rubs his temple, trying to make sense of it all.

“There’s something else. Silver, you said the only thing you found about the Kanima is that it goes after murderers, right? What if that’s true?” Scott asks.

“No, no, that can’t be. I mean, I don’t know about you three, but I haven’t murdered anyone recently.” Stiles defends himself.

“I don’t think it was trying to kill us.” Scott looks around at the group, taking a step closer. “Remember Isaac’s house? It just passed us by. And in the mechanic’s garage… it could’ve killed you, but didn’t.”

“Okay, but it did try to drown Derek and me at the pool.”

“Did it, though? It waited. It never pulled you under.  What if it was trying to keep you in?”

“Okay, why do I feel so personally violated all of a sudden?”Stiles shivers and takes a step back.

“Because something else is going on. Something we don’t get yet. Jackson… the tablet… someone protecting him. We don’t know what this really is.” Scott says.

“Know thy enemy.” Silver whispers. “It’s something my  grandfather said to me.”

“Great. I got it. Kill Jackson. Problem solved.” Stiles said. “Stiles.” Silver said blankly.
“Silver’s right. Jackson risked his life for us when Peter was coming after everyone, remember?”

“Sure. But what did we just find out? He got the bite from Derek. Pretty convenient how he just happened to get exactly what he wanted after playing hero. I’m just saying—it’s funny.” Stiles argues.

“We’re not hurting him. Not even a little.”

“Fine. We save him. Again.”Stiles throws up his hands.

“Even if he doesn’t remember, how are you gonna convince him? What proof do you have? Him waking up in a police van?” Michael asks.

“I didn’t know what I was at first either.” Scott turns to the group, his voice more intense. “Do you remember when I almost killed you? You and Jackson? I had someone to stop me. He doesn’t. He has no one.”

“Yeah? Maybe that’s his fault.” Stiles mutters. “Doesn’t matter. If we can save him—we should try.” Silver says.

They all go quiet, staring out over the preserve, the weight of what’s coming settling over them.

🦎

Silver sits on the hood of his car, arms wrapped around his knees, staring out at the glittering lights of Beacon Hills below. From here, the town looks peaceful. Small. Distant.

But everything in his life feels loud. Too big.
And he feels so… small.

He rubs at the sleeves of his hoodie, pulling them down over his hands. The fabric’s worn thin at the cuffs. Familiar. Safe.

A hand brushes his shoulder.

Silver jumps, heart in his throat, spinning slightly—until he hears the voice.

“It’s just me.”

Scott steps closer, hesitating only a moment before settling next to Silver on the hood. Their knees nearly touch. Silver quickly tugs his sleeves even lower.

They sit in silence for a beat, just the wind stirring around them.

Without saying anything, Scott reaches over, looping his arm through Silver’s. He carefully takes Silver’s hand in his own — fingers lacing tightly. His thumb brushes over the fabric covering Silver’s knuckles, gently toying with the stretched-out ends of the sleeve.

He doesn’t say a word about it.

But Silver tenses anyway.

“Michael was with Allison earlier.”

Silver’s jaw tightens slightly. “So?” He pulls his hand away from Scott.

“So you don’t think it’s weird? He shows up again and suddenly he’s everywhere? Around you. Around her. Around us?” Scott says.

“He’s trying to help.” Silver says almost like he’s being forced to say it.

“Is that what you think he’s doing?” Scott scoffs.

Silver finally looks at him, expression guarded. “What do you want me to say, Scott? That he’s some manipulative asshole who’s trying to crawl his way back into my life? You think I don’t already question every second I’m near him?”

“He kissed you Silver. And you let him.”

“It wasn’t about me, Scott. It was to protect the lie. It was a distraction, it was—”

” —Still real. For him.”

Silver stands up now, pacing in front of the car. Frustrated. Defensive. “You think he’s in love with me again? Is that what you want to hear? That he’s suddenly caught up in some dramatic fantasy of getting me back? He’s not. And I’m not falling for him again either.”

“Then why are you always the first one to defend him? He’s not on your side, Silver. He never was.”

Behind them, Michael has drifted closer to Allison, keeping his voice low. Scott starts to turn back to the van—
But he pauses.

Just enough to hear Michael murmur to Allison:
“Being with Silver… even if it’s all fake… it reminded me of us.”

Allison turns to him, surprised.
“I know I messed everything up. But I think about you all the time. I want to try again, Liss. For real.”

Scott stiffens.

His eyes flick from Michael then slowly to Silver, who hasn’t heard any of it.

“Michael is trying to protect us, Scott,” Silver says, stepping closer. “I’m never going to forgive him for what he did, but I can trust him enough that he won’t let me down again.”

Scott’s jaw tightens.

“You trust him?” he asks, voice low.

Silver hesitates, just for a second. “I trust him not to get us killed.”

Scott looks away, swallowing whatever was about to follow.

Because for all that Michael lied and betrayed them—
it’s Silver who’s hiding something now.
And Scott can feel it.

“Guys, you might want to look at this.”

Scott and Silver both rush over to Stiles by the trunk of the van. Michael and Allison step out from the trees, slightly disheveled, a little too close together. Michael’s hand lingers at Allison’s waist a second too long before letting go.

Silver only notices Scott’s grip tightening around him.

The five teens stand infront of the van to see the back door open and Jackson nowhere to be seen. “We have to tell our dads.” Allison says, causing Scott to walk away, “Scott, he’s going to kill someone!” Allison yells at him.

“Okay. Tell him everything.” Scott answers, causing Silver to quickly look at him with a surprised face.

“Scott, I gotta tell mine too.” Stiles says slowly.

“This is all my fault.” Scott admits, “No it’s not.” Silver immediately answers.  “But they’re right. We have to tell them. Scott, we’re just a bunch of teenagers. We can’t handle this.”

“You’re right.”

“How are you gonna make your dad believe all this?” Silver asks Stiles as he sighs. “I don’t know.”

“He’ll believe me.” Scott shows everyone his eyes.

Scott turns to face them—his eyes glowing a piercing amber-gold.

No one says a word.

From just behind the group, Michael leans slightly toward Allison, voice low and casual. “Well, that’s one way to get someone’s attention.”

Allison tries not to smile—but she doesn’t pull away.

Scott catches it.

But right now… it’s the least of his problems.

🦎

“I really don’t want to talk it about Allison.” Silver groans, “It doesn’t mean anything. He’s still Michael.”

“Exactly. I don’t want anyone to get hurt, not again.” Allison walks off to her room. Silver for a second wondered back to what Scott said, but he shakes off the thought.

He turns on the lights as she looks up to see Lydia on his bed. “Lydia, you scared me.” Silver says, holding his chest looking back at his best friend.

“I’ve been sitting here for an hour, waiting for you.” Lydia admits shyly.

Silver freezes for a second, surprised by how small she sounds. He shrugs off his jacket, moving slower than usual.

“Lydia… I can’t hang out right now. I’m kind of—” Silver pauses, ” —burnt out.”
“I don’t need anyone to hang out with. I need someone to talk to.”

Silver runs a hand down his face, exhaling.

“I get that. I do. But… can it wait? Just a little? I’ve got like six different things trying to tear me in half right now. Just let me sleep for two hours.”

Lydia stands, frustration flickering behind her eyes. “Why does everyone keep telling me to wait? Why can’t anyone ever have right now available?”

“Because sometimes right now feels impossible.”

His voice cracks a little, more raw than he intended. He sighs, steps toward his desk, and picks up the stack of papers.

“Right now, I need someone to translate five pages of Archaic Latin.”

“I know Archaic Latin.” Lydia admits, “How do you know Archaic Latin?” Lydia rolls her eyes at her best friend, “I got bored with Classical Latin.” Silver chuckles, crossing his arms, “You are a genius..”

🦎

“Are you sure?” Silver asks, looking over Lydia’s shoulder seeing the bestiary pages, “Miss Morrell says that word means ‘friend.’ The Kanima seeks a friend.”

“She was wrong. It means ‘Master'”. Lydia says, staring at the screen, “The Kanima seeks a master.” Silver mumbles, “Why? Is that important?” Lydia gets up.

“Yeah. Someone’s not protecting him. Someone’s controlling him.”