Chapter 57

Silver sat hunched on the hood of Lydia’s car, arms folded tight across his chest, his gaze pinned to the concrete. His jaw was clenched, every line of his body wound tight.

“Have you told your dad?” Lydia asked carefully. “Does he know Kate’s back?”

Silver’s head lifted a fraction, his good eye narrowing. “No.”

“Silver-“

“I said no.” His tone was sharp, defensive. He shifted, restless, as if even admitting that much left a bitter taste in his mouth.

Lydia folded her arms, unfazed. “You haven’t said a word, have you? Not to him. Not to anyone. You’re just letting it eat you alive.”

Silver gave a humorless laugh. “What do you expect me to say? ‘Hey Dad, guess what-your pyscho dead sister is back from the grave’? That’ll go over real well.”

“Silver.” Lydia’s voice cut through his anger like glass, steady and calm.

His eyes flicked up to her, sharp and burning. “What do you want me to do about it? Huh? Pretend I’m fine? Because I’m not. I’ll never be fine with her around. I was relieved she was gone and out of my life for good. She just reminds me of that scared boy I used to be.”

Lydia didn’t back down, didn’t even blink. She stepped closer instead, her voice low but insistent. “I don’t want you to say you’re fine. I want you to stop acting like you’re alone.”

Silver opened his mouth, ready to fire back, but the words collapsed in his throat. He dragged a hand over his face, groaning. “You don’t get it.”

“I do,” Lydia said firmly.

His chest rose and fell in sharp, uneven breaths. Finally, he looked away, muttering under his breath, “And what’s she gonna think of me when she sees me now? I’m still the black sheep of the family. Even more damaged than before.”

Lydia sighed, exhaling slowly, as if searching for something to anchor them both. Her eyes flicked toward the house. “What is taking Ren so long?” she muttered, reaching through the driver’s side window and laying on the horn.

The front door burst open. Ren stumbled out first, backpack half-zipped, Kira right behind him tugging at his sleeve.

“Finally,” Lydia muttered, straightening up as the twins jogged toward the car.

“Sorry, sorry!” Ren said, out of breath. “We, uh-had a…family thing.”

Kira bit her lip, glancing at Silver and Lydia before blurting, “Our parents want to move us back to New York.”

The words landed like a stone between them. Silver straightened off the hood, blinking. “What?”

Ren shoved his hands deep into his pockets, jaw tight. “Yeah. Like-soon.”

Lydia’s hand froze on the door handle, her sharp eyes darting between them. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

💰

Ren and Silver walked side by side through the crowded hallway, the murmur of voices and slamming lockers washing over them. Ren had his hands stuffed into his hoodie pocket, head tilted slightly toward Silver as they navigated between students.

Silver shifted his backpack higher on his shoulder, staring straight ahead. “You’re not going anywhere. You can’t. Things are finally… I don’t know, normal-ish. And it’s nice to have at least one friend who gets it.”

Ren gave a crooked smile, then after a beat asked, “How’s your dad doing with everything?”

Silver’s expression flickered. “He’s fine. Helping Rachel with finding Michael.” He didn’t look at Ren. “That’s all Scott needs to know.”

Ren slowed a step. “Scott doesn’t know about what’s really going on with you?”

“Nope. You’re the only one who does.”

They reached a quieter stretch of lockers. Silver leaned back against the wall like he was trying to disappear into it. “Besides,” he muttered, “I already have Lydia on my back about telling my dad about Kate.”

Ren froze mid-step, eyebrows shooting up. “Wait. What?”

Silver gave him a look. “What?”

Ren’s voice rose, echoing off the metal lockers. “You haven’t told your dad? You haven’t told him his dead sister is alive?”

A few students glanced their way. Silver grabbed Ren’s sleeve and yanked him toward an empty alcove by the stairwell. “Keep your voice down,” he hissed.

Ren stared at him, incredulous. “Are you serious? This is your crazy aunt we’re talking about, not some random gossip you forgot to mention. This is huge.”

Silver dragged a hand down his face. “You think I don’t know that? I think about it every second. But I’m a coward. I’m not ready for that.”

Ren folded his arms. “You’ve got Lydia chewing you out for not telling him and you’re still dodging it? Silver, this isn’t like forgetting to pay a bill. This is-“

“I know what this is!” Silver snapped, then immediately softened, voice cracking around the edges. “I know. But every time I even picture his face when I tell him, I… can’t do it. Not yet.”

Ren’s eyes softened. “You’re scared of hurting him.”

Silver stared down at his shoes, voice barely above a whisper. “Yeah. And of what it’ll do to me when I say it out loud.”

The hallway buzzed around them, but for a moment it felt like they were standing inside a bubble of quiet. The bell rang faintly down the hall, the sound snapping Ren out of it. “You should tell Scott,” he said gently. “At least let him know you haven’t told your dad about Kate yet. He deserves to know what’s really going on.”

Silver opened his mouth to answer, but then a blur of movement caught his eye. Malia brushed past them in the hallway, heading toward her class. A second later she doubled back, muttering something about being late, and Silver instinctively reached out to stop her. “Malia-“

Before he could say anything else, Stiles appeared out of nowhere, hand clamping lightly on Malia’s shoulder. “Nope. You’re going to class. Come on,” he said, steering her toward the doorway like a stubborn cat.

“I hate math. It’s pointless,” Malia muttered as she dropped into the seat behind Lydia, next to Stiles.

“It’s school! School is important, and math is essential,” Stiles countered, wagging a finger at her.

“To what?” Malia shot back, turning in her seat.

“Knowing how much to tip at restaurants,” Stiles said with exaggerated seriousness. The exchange drew a few looks from nearby students.

“And other less important things,” Lydia added dryly without looking up from her notebook, “like medicine, economics, engineering…”

“Tipping,” Stiles whispered again, nodding firmly.

Ms. Fleming, already irritated, spun toward the class. “All right, volunteers to the board! Malia, Lydia, and Diego.”

Malia’s head jerked up. “I didn’t volunteer.”

“You did now. To the board,” Ms. Fleming replied, pointing to the front of the class.

Malia groaned, turning to Stiles. He gave her a big thumbs-up like an overenthusiastic coach. “You’ve got this.”

Malia growled under her breath and stomped to the board with Lydia and Diego trailing behind.

As the noise of scraping chairs filled the room, Stiles leaned back in his seat and let his eyes flick toward the back row where Ren and Silver had slipped in just before the bell. He waited until the teacher’s back was turned, then leaned across the aisle.

“Hey,” he hissed, beckoning them closer. “You guys want to hear something nuts?”

Ren glanced over, already bored with pre-algebra. “Always.”

Silver blinked. “Do we have a choice?”

“Nope,” Stiles said cheerfully. He leaned against the locker, lowering his voice for dramatic effect. “Family murdering axe-murderer.”

waiting until Lydia looks at them before I jump to conclusions.”

Silver gave him a sidelong look, still stuck in his own head but unable not to listen. “Why are you telling us?”

“Because you’re standing right here, and I’m not going to explode from keeping this to myself.” Stiles straightened. “Also, Ren, you’re good at noticing details. And Silver…” He hesitated, then added, “You’re good at knowing when something’s wrong.”

Ren’s expression turned sharp but fascinated. “All right, show me the files.”

Stiles’s grin widened. “Finally. Someone who appreciates the art of a good mystery.”

💰

The hallway between classes buzzed with noise, lockers slamming and sneakers squeaking on tile. Kira shouldered her bag and glanced at the group around her. “An axe-murderer?” she asked, eyebrows raised.

“A family-murdering axe-murderer,” Stiles corrected immediately, eyes wide and hands cutting through the air as if the gesture made the story scarier.

Scott spun the dial on his locker, jaw tight. “I already heard about it.”

Stiles stopped dead, brows knitting. “Wait, what? You did? How?”

Scott pulled his locker open with a metallic clank. “My mom called me. She knew we’d see it on the news.”

“Perfect! Let’s go!” Stiles said, bouncing on his toes.

“Whoa, whoa-” Scott threw an arm out across the hall, instinctively blocking Silver as a rush of students moved past. “We’ve got econ in five minutes.”

Stiles blinked at him. “Did you forget the part about the family-murdering axe-murderer?”

Scott’s eyes narrowed. “Did you forget your dad’s the sheriff? They want us to stay out of it.” His arm lingered just a moment in front of Silver before dropping.

“There’s a family-murdering axe-murderer and we’re not going to do anything about it?” Stiles asked, incredulous.

“Maybe we should just let the adults handle it,” Kira said, shrugging.

Ren tilted his head, frowning. “Yeah, but sitting out never works around here. That’s how people end up dead.”

“Thank you!” Stiles pointed dramatically at Ren. “Finally, someone with sense!”

Scott glared between the two of them. “There’s a difference between ignoring it and not running straight toward an axe-murderer.”

Ren shoved his hands into his hoodie pocket. “Yeah, but-Beacon Hills history? Sitting it out never works.”

Stiles jabbed a thumb at Ren. “Exactly! Listen to the new guy!”

Scott’s jaw tightened. “We’re supposed to not get killed. That’s the plan.” As he spoke, he adjusted Silver’s backpack strap without asking, straightening it, almost like a reflex.

Silver gave him a look. “I can handle my own bag, Scott.”

“I know,” Scott said softly, hand lingering a second longer than necessary.

Stiles let out a sharp scoff. “So the three of you-you just want to stay here, go to class, pretend like nothing’s happening? Never heard anything so irresponsible in my life!” He threw his hands up dramatically and stormed down the hall.

“See you at tryouts!” Scott called after him.

Stiles spun and threw a bigger dramatic hand gesture before disappearing into the crowd. Kira chuckled and peeled off toward her next class. Ren gave Silver a look and shook his head.

Just as the group started to break apart, someone barreled down the hallway late for class and slammed into Silver’s shoulder. The impact knocked his sunglasses off, sending them skittering across the tile until they cracked against a locker.

The hallway went dead quiet for a beat. Silver froze, his hand flying up too late to cover his damaged eye. Dozens of students turned to stare.

Scott’s face changed instantly. He stepped forward, planting himself between Silver and the gawking crowd, his voice low and edged. “Back off.” His eyes scanned the hallway like a threat.

Ren crouched, scooping up the broken sunglasses and holding them out. “Silver…”

Silver’s cheeks burned crimson. “It’s fine,” he muttered, reaching for the pieces, but Scott was already ushering him toward the lockers, one hand gripping his shoulder protectively.

“No,” Scott said, glaring at the kid who’d run into him. “It’s not.”

Silver hunched a little, trying to shrink into himself as everyone stared. “Just-just leave it,” he muttered.

💰

The locker room felt dressed up in flickering lights. The hum of the fluorescent Lights grated at Silver’s nerves, every gleam of the metal lockers bounced off his scar tissue. He sat hunched forward on the bench, palms pressed to his knees, his broken sunglasses lying next to him like a failed shield. The cracked lens caught the light and threw it back at him, a sharp little reminder of the stares he’d been dodging all day.

Lydia stood in front of him, one hand on her hip, the other gripping her phone tight. Her eyes flicked over his face, trying and failing not to stare at the exposed eye. Ren leaned against the lockers with his arms folded, watching Silver like he was afraid he’d collapse or explode.

“You’re not going out there like this,” Lydia said finally, her voice low but firm. “We can fix it-cover it at least. I have makeup in my bag.”

Silver didn’t look up. “And what is that going to do Lydia?” he muttered. “It’s not going away.”

Ren’s tone was softer, but no less steady. “Look, man, you don’t have to punish yourself. People are gonna stare no matter what-you might as well make it easier.”

“They’re gonna stare anyway,” Silver snapped. His voice cracked, so he cleared his throat and tried again. “Glasses, bandages, hoodies-none of it changes anything. They know. Everyone knows. I’m the scarred boy. “

Lydia crouched down so she was eye-level, her perfume cutting through the smell of sweat and disinfectant. “It’s not the same,” she said gently. “You’re making it worse in your head. We can help you manage it.”

Silver finally raised his eyes to hers. Under the overhead light, his damaged eye glimmered wetly, the skin around it tight and pale where the scars had healed. “Manage it?” he asked, voice low. “It’s easy for you to say. It’s not your face.”

For a moment Lydia looked like she might cry. Ren shifted, biting at the inside of his cheek. “Hiding it’s killing you, man,” he said quietly. “Every time you put those glasses on you look like you’re trying to disappear.”

Silver’s hands curled into fists on his knees. “You think I don’t know that?” he snapped. “You think I like sneaking around my own dad? Not telling him about Kate? Lying to Scott? You think I like any of this?” His voice ricocheted off the tile, harsh and trembling.

“Then stop.” Lydia’s own voice rose, more frustration than anger. “Tell your dad about Kate. Tell Scott you’re scared. Stop carrying it by yourself.”

Silver shot up to his feet so fast the bench rattled. “You don’t get it!” His face twisted as his voice cracked. “My dad’s hanging on by a thread. If I tell him his sister’s alive after everything she’s done, it’ll break him. And then what? Then it’s my fault!”

Silence dropped like a curtain. The humming lights, the faint shouts from the field, the smell of liniment and sweat-it all pressed in. Silver’s breathing went ragged.

The scars stood out against his skin like pale, twisted lightning bolts. “Fine,” he said, voice raw. “Let them look.”

Lydia straightened, her mouth trembling between pride and worry. “Then hold your head up, Little Argent.” she said softly. “Don’t let them see you flinch.”

Ren glanced at the clock. “We’ve gotta go. My mom’s waiting, and Lydia’s my ride.”

Lydia slung her bag over her shoulder but stayed looking at Silver. “You’ll be okay?”

Silver stared at himself in the mirror, at the cloudy iris and the scars framing it like parentheses. “Yeah,” he lied. “Scott’s got lacrosse tryouts. I’ll just… stay.”

Ren patted his shoulder lightly. “Text me if you need a ride. Or anything.”

“Call me later,” Lydia added. “And think about what we said. Please.”

Silver didn’t answer. He adjusted his jacket, jaw set, eyes fixed on the reflection of a face he barely recognized.

They left, Lydia scolding Ren about forgetting his hoodie and Ren teasing her back, their voices fading down the hall. Alone now, Silver stood breathing in the cold, chemical air of the locker room. He picked up the broken sunglasses and slipped them into his pocket. For the first time in months, there was nothing over his eye but light and air.

He squared his shoulders and walked toward the door.

💰

Silver sat stiffly on the bleachers, shoulders squared, hands gripping the edge of the seat. The afternoon sun cut across the field, glinting off his uncovered eye, the scars around it pulling tight whenever he blinked. He could feel Malia staring before he even looked her way.

“Malia,” he muttered, low but sharp. “I thought we talked about the staring.”

Malia didn’t even blink. “No, we didn’t.”

“Fine,” Silver exhaled through his nose. “You and Stiles did.”

Malia tilted her head, unapologetic. “He said you’d get over it. I’m still waiting.”

Silver gritted his teeth and looked back at the field. “Well, I’m still waiting for you to stop making it weird.”

Kira, sitting on the other side with a math textbook balanced on her knees, shot Malia a warning glance. “Maybe ease up. Subtlety exists.”

“Fine,” Malia said, though she still glanced sideways at Silver like she couldn’t help herself.

Silver dug his elbows into his knees, head tipped forward, trying to swallow the embarrassment crawling up his throat. Below them Scott jogged another lap around the field, but his eyes kept darting to the bleachers.

Even with the crowd’s noise and Coach’s barking, he could pick Silver out instantly -hunched forward, hoodie pushed back, his scars bared to the sunlight.

As they rounded the corner by the fence, Stiles puffing hard next to him, Scott slowed just enough to angle toward the sideline. “Hey-hold up a sec.”

“What? We’ve got one more lap,” Stiles wheezed.

Scott ignored him, jogging up to the chain-link fence where Silver sat only a few feet away. He wrapped one hand around the metal, the other braced on his hip. “I like seeing your eyes again.”

Silver’s face turned red, walking up to the fence. “You doing okay?” Scott’s voice dropped low, softer than the yelling on the field.

Silver blinked, startled, then tilted his head like he hadn’t expected Scott to come over mid-practice. “I’m fine,” he said automatically, but his good eye darted away, back to the grass.

Scott’s brow furrowed. “You sure? You look…” He trailed off, searching for the right word. “Tired.”

Silver gave a small, humorless laugh. “Guess you could say that.”

Scott still didn’t move, fingers tightening on the fence. “If it’s too much, you could go home,” he said quietly. “Call Lydia or Ren. You don’t have to sit out here.”

Silver’s throat worked. He wanted to snap, to push Scott away, but there was something in Scott’s voice -a kind of stubborn gentleness -that made it hard. “I said I’m fine,” he repeated, this time a little steadier.

Scott searched his face for another second, then nodded slowly.

As Scott jogged off to catch up to Stiles, Silver exhaled, gripping his knees until his fingers went white. Malia still stared sideways at him, but more out of curiosity now than cruelty. Kira nudged Silver’s elbow. “He worries about you a lot,” she said softly.

Silver shrugged, eyes fixed on the field. “Yeah. I know.”

Down on the turf, Stiles scooped up a ball and launched it toward the goal. It sailed straight into the goalie’s stick. Liam stepped up next, scooping with ease and sending the ball blazing into the net.

“Yes!” Coach roared from the sideline.

Scott’s turn came. He launched his shot, but it smacked off the side pole instead of sinking into the net.

“Nice, McCall!” Garrett shouted, laughing.

“Hey, Garrett -shut up!” Stiles barked, drawing chuckles from the line of players.

For the next few minutes Liam made goal after goal while Scott and Stiles struggled.

“Isn’t the team captain supposed to be, you know, good?” Kira murmured.

Silver hunched a little. “He is. He’s just nervous. He’ll figure it out.”

Coach blew his whistle and barked for McCall and Stilinski to grab the long sticks for two-on-ones. The first few challengers couldn’t get near scoring, and Stiles and Scott chest-bumped after one save -only for Stiles to trip over his own foot.

Then Liam scooped up the ball again, tore down the field, ducked past Stiles and spun around Scott, sending the ball clean into the net.

“That’s how you do it!” Coach bellowed.

Malia shot up from the bleacher, hands cupped around her mouth. “That was luck! Do-over!”

“Sweetheart, there are no do-overs. This is a practice!” Coach called back.

“Ten bucks on Scott and Stiles!” Malia countered.

“I’ll take that action!” Coach barked.

Kira tried not to laugh as she scribbled another number in Malia’s notebook. “You’re impossible.”

Coach blew the whistle again. Liam took off running. This time, instead of spinning around Scott, Scott flipped him clean over his shoulder. Liam hit the turf with a hard crack and a groan.

Silver half-rose out of his seat, heart in his throat. “Oh my god…” he murmured.

“Don’t move! Don’t touch him!” Coach yelled as he sprinted out to the field.

“I’m okay, Coach. I’m all right,” Liam said, trying to get up but falling back down. “I think it’s my leg.”

“I think we better get him to the nurse,” Stiles muttered as he and Scott helped Liam up, Scott’s hand steady on the kid’s back.

In the bleachers, Coach’s frustration boiled over. He grabbed a stray ball and chucked it toward the stands. Silver didn’t even see it coming -only caught a flicker of movement at the edge of his good eye. His stomach clenched, his shoulders tensing on instinct. He turned just a hair too late, heart ticking up with a sudden, familiar rush of panic.

Then thunk -the ball never hit. Kira’s stick had shot up between them like a shield, snaring the ball inches from his temple.

Silver exhaled, the tension leaving his shoulders in a rush. “Thanks,” he muttered, voice quieter than usual.

“Wow! Nice catch!” Coach shouted, impressed despite himself.

Kira stood and, without thinking, tossed the ball back – hitting Coach square in the stomach.

“Oh my god,” Kira whispered, eyes going wide as Silver pressed a hand over his mouth, trying to laugh but still feeling the phantom rush of the ball coming at him. His heart hadn’t quite slowed down yet.

“Somebody ask her if she’s ever played lacrosse!” Coach wheezed, rubbing his stomach.

💰

Silver sat on the stairs, his scarred eye uncovered, the wall to his left suddenly feeling too close, too sharp. His breaths came quick, shallow, panic rising as he pressed his back against the wall, trying to ground himself.

Silver sat on the stairs outside the nurse’s office, one shoulder pressed to the cinderblock wall, his scarred eye uncovered. The stairwell light buzzed above them, casting a cold sheen across the tight scar tissue and the pale iris on his left. Everything on that side felt dim, too close, like the world was creeping in at an angle he couldn’t defend. His breathing came short and uneven, fingers flexing against the step as if he could ground himself by sheer force.

Scott stepped out of the nurse’s office, and Silver immediately straightened, though the tension didn’t leave her shoulders. “Hey, sorry about all that… We’re taking Liam to the hospital. Could be a sprain… could also be a break,” Scott said, his voice steady, but Silver could hear the concern threading through it.

Silver straightened as if caught doing something shameful. “I should get home anyway.” His gaze slid to the floor. “I’m going to tell my dad tonight… about Kate.”

Scott stopped cold, the stairwell door swinging shut behind him. “Wait. You’re just now telling him?” His voice sharpened, disbelief cutting through.

Silver’s shoulders tensed. “Scott, not now.”

“No. Right now.” Scott moved down two steps, closing the space between them. “He’s your dad. He deserves to know. You’ve been keeping this secret for days.”

Silver rose halfway, fists curling. “You don’t get it.”

Scott’s hand shot out, stopping him from bolting. “Then explain it to me.”

Silver’s voice cracked. “My dad lost his whole family, Scott – his daughter, his wife, his sister. He’s got nothing left.”

Scott’s eyes flicked over Silver’s face, the scarred side first. His voice softened but stayed firm. “He still has you.”

Silver laughed bitterly, no humor in it. “And I’m the one who caused all of this.”

Scott’s brow furrowed. “No, you’re not.”

“Yes, I am!” Silver’s voice bounced off the stairwell walls, his whole body trembling. “Every time something like this happens, I’m the one in the middle of it. You think telling him she’s back – alive and something else now – is going to help him? It’ll tear him apart.”

Scott stepped closer, his anger fading into something raw. “You didn’t bring her back. You’re not responsible for what she’s become.”

Silver turned, about to storm down the steps. “I can’t do this right now.”

Scott caught his wrist, not rough but unrelenting. “You’re not walking away from me.”

Silver spun back toward him, eyes flashing. “Let me go, Scott.”

Scott’s grip eased but didn’t release. “I’m not letting you walk out thinking you’re alone.” His voice dropped lower. “I’m your boyfriend, Silver! I love you! Let me help you with this. Please.”

For a second Silver just stood there, panting, shoulders tight. “You shouldn’t have to,” he muttered.

“I want to,” Scott said simply.

Silver’s breath stuttered. The stairwell seemed to shrink around them, and for once he let himself lean into Scott’s touch when Scott lifted a hand to his jaw, brushing a thumb just under the scar tissue.

“I’m so messed up,” Silver whispered.

“No.” Scott’s eyes softened. “You’re hurt. There’s a difference.”

Something inside Silver broke loose. He grabbed a fistful of Scott’s hoodie, dragging him in, and their mouths crashed together. It wasn’t gentle – it was heat and frustration and love poured into a kiss that left them both trembling.

Scott kissed him back just as fiercely, hands anchoring him at the waist and the back of his neck, holding him steady. The panic that had been building inside Silver ebbed just enough for him to breathe.

They broke apart only when their lungs burned, foreheads pressed together. Scott’s breath was shaky. “I’m still mad,” he murmured.

“I know.” Silver’s voice trembled, but a flicker of a smile appeared at the corner of his mouth.

💰

Silver pushed the apartment door open quietly, as though even the latch might set something off. The air inside smelled of cold coffee, old gun oil, and stale silence. The blinds were drawn tight even though it was only late afternoon, turning the room a washed-out grey.

At the kitchen table, Argent sat hunched over his phone. A voicemail played softly – Rachel’s voice, shaky and urgent, asking Argent to call her back. She was worried about Michael, she said. She didn’t know where else to turn.

Argent didn’t answer. He just sat there, thumb trembling on the edge of the phone, his shoulders slumped. He looked smaller than Silver remembered – hair more grey, eyes sunken and rimmed with red, stubble crawling too far down his jaw. The lines on his face were carved deep, like scars of their own.

Silver hovered in the doorway, heart hammering, feeling the scars on his face pull tight under his eye. He’d pictured this moment a hundred times, but standing there, seeing his dad like that, his throat closed up. “Dad?”

Argent blinked, finally looking up. “Silver.” His voice was hoarse, but he tried to make it steady. “You’re home.”

“Yeah.” Silver edged toward the counter, stuffing his hands into his jacket pockets. He could feel his palms sweating. “What are you doing up? You uh… you look tired.”

Argent gave a humorless snort. “Rachel can’t find Michael. I guess she thought he’d show up by now.” He set the phone down face-down, like the sight of it offended him. “She wants me to help her find him.”

Silver’s stomach churned as he stared at the half-empty coffee cup. He wanted to back out of the room, retreat upstairs, hide. But the words pressing against his chest had been waiting for weeks, and now they clawed their way out. “I need to tell you something.”

Argent straightened a little. “What is it?”

Silver swallowed hard, his throat dry. “It’s about Kate.”

At the name, Argent’s whole body went rigid. His hand stilled on the back of the chair. He didn’t speak-just stared at his son.

Silver’s voice dropped, shaky. “She’s alive.”

The silence that followed was unbearable. Argent’s face didn’t change at first; then a flicker of something – hope, disbelief, dread – passed through before it curdled into pain. “What did you say?”

“She’s alive,” Silver repeated, barely above a whisper. “I don’t know how, or why. But she’s back. And she’s not… she’s not human anymore.”

Argent pushed back from the table, standing slowly, one hand braced on the chair. His eyes went glassy, unfocused. “This isn’t funny.”

“I’m not joking,” Silver said quickly. His own voice was cracking. “I didn’t want to tell you. I didn’t want you to…” He looked down at his hands. “I didn’t want to make it worse.”

Argent took a step toward him, then stopped like he’d hit a wall. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

Silver’s eyes burned. “Because you’ve lost everything already. Mom, Kate, Allison…” His breath hitched and his shoulders curled in. “You lost your whole family. I couldn’t-” He clenched his fists, the words spilling out. “I was trying to protect you!”

Argent’s hands curled into fists at his sides. His voice rose, breaking. “I’m your father. It’s my job to protect you – not the other way around.”

Silver’s shoulders sagged, the fight draining out of him but leaving the pain behind. “I’m the one who caused all of this, Dad,” he whispered. “If you’d never had me, maybe-“

“Don’t you dare,” Argent snapped, his voice raw. “Don’t you dare blame yourself for what they chose to do.”

But Silver couldn’t stand there anymore. The apartment, the ghosts, his father’s eyes – it was too much. He turned toward the door, muttering, “I can’t do this right now.”

“Silver-“

The door slammed before Argent could say more, the echo of it hanging in the apartment like a gunshot.

💰

The Yukimura house was so still that Lydia could hear her own heels click against the polished hardwood. She and Silver exchanged a look as they slipped down the hall toward Ren’s room. A muffled thunk followed by a loud clatter broke the quiet.

Lydia arched an eyebrow. “That can’t be good.”

Silver pushed open the door without knocking. “Ren?”

Inside, Ren was in the middle of his room, barefoot, a bo staff gripped in his hands. His stance was uneven, his expression locked in concentration. He swung once, twice-then the staff caught on the edge of his dresser and spun wildly out of his hands, smacking into a box of packed clothes with a dull thud.

“Crap!” Ren muttered, darting after it. He looked up to see Lydia and Silver standing in the doorway. “Uh. Hi.”

Lydia leaned against the doorframe, unimpressed. “That’s one way to defend yourself.”

Silver grinned faintly, setting his backpack down. “You’re still terrible with that thing.”

Ren scowled and picked up the staff. “I’m trying. I won’t have much room to pratice in New York.”

Silver’s smile vanished. “You’re not leaving, Ren. You can’t. Life’s just getting back to something like normal and it’s nice to have another normal friend.”

Ren’s grip on the staff faltered. “I don’t exactly have a choice, man.”

Lydia crossed the room, arms folded. “There’s always a choice. And you’re part of this. You don’t just get to vanish because your parents are scared.”

Ren exhaled hard, shoulders sagging. “You don’t get it. They’ve already got the house lined up. Boxes are half-packed.”

Silver walked over to his bag and unzipped it. The faint rattle of spray cans echoed in the quiet room. He pulled one out and held it up. “Then we make it harder for them.”

Ren blinked. “Please tell me that’s not what I think it is.”

“That sign has to go,” Silver said, his voice flat but determined.

Lydia smirked, half-amused, half-exasperated. “You’re serious about this?”

“Completely.” Silver’s scarred eye caught the light from the lamp, making him look more intense than ever. “If they think you’re leaving quietly, they’re wrong.”

Ren set the staff aside, torn between laughter and disbelief. “You guys are going to get me grounded until college.”

Silver tossed the can from one hand to the other. “Then at least you’ll still be here for college.”

Downstairs, Noshiko’s voice floated up the stairwell. “Ken, would you please call the real estate agent and ask him why not a single person has come to this open house?”

Ken’s answer was dry. “I think I know why…”

“Ren!” Noshiko barked, the sound sharp enough to make all three freeze.

Ren muttered under his breath, “Busted.” He peeked out the window. The “For Sale” sign now had a big black streak slashed across it, the word “NO” dripping down the white wood like a battle cry.