Silas Jackson の小説・ストーリー

Yes alpha",Silas follows him out while Zeus sits beside the bed. He whines, and I pet him, but I'm worried now. What if dad gets on him about Gavin and his ex mate? Jack lingers in the room, looking over the printouts of our pup. "Tyler won't hurt him. Jordan he just wants to see how he is. Silas holds a lot in because he was trained to push his feelings down. That man is a great warrior but hides his hurt to make others happy. Your dad is just making sure he is okay mentally, "I stiffen as I share a look with Angie. She looks ready to cry as we watch the panel for a while.

“He tried to rape you and he did assault you. A fellow pack member… the fucking future Luna of this fucking pack, his pack! He took the oath…He has to pay..” “What are you going to do?” I asked. “I’d like to rip his disgusting hands off his body and shove them down his throat…” Zac sucked in a deep breath before continuing “..but, I can’t do that without repercussions from the Council. I need to talk to Grayson he’ll keep me from being the sadistic prick I want to be..” I just nodded back at him. The memories of that night swirl through my mind. This was so much, the last couple of days have been so much, too much.

Once again, she said she had nothing more to say to him. Wilson stayed at the bus stop after the bus left, his bitterness spreading. He had many things to tell Clara, but she no longer wanted to talk to him. But at least she was still alive. Perhaps her being alive was the greatest gift God had ever given him. Wilson thought of the last time he had seen Jackson. Jackson looked haggard and disheveled, giving off an air of despair. He was holding on by sheer will. Jackson was a far cry from his former self after losing Serenity. A formidable man who could practically control the lifeblood of Solaria's economy, he was quickly defeated by the loss.

"You... we saw you die. We saw the blood." Silas stepped into the firelight. His face was a patchwork of surgical tape and bruises, and he moved with a stiff, mechanical gait, but he was undeniably alive. He looked at the chip on the table with a strange, weary sadness. "Eleanor never bets on a single horse, Ethan," Silas said, repeating the words like a prayer. "And she never relies on a single body. I was the 'primary' Silas. The one you saw in the basement was... a contingency."

My chest felt tight, the weight of his gaze pressing down on me. “What do you want from me, Silas?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. He stood then, the movement slow and deliberate. My breath caught as he closed the distance between us, his towering presence making the room feel smaller. “I want you to stop running,” he said, his hand reaching out to cup my face. His thumb brushed against my cheek, his touch gentle despite the fire burning in his eyes. “I want you to face this. Face me.” Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, and I hated myself for it. “I can’t,” I whispered, my voice breaking. “I don’t know how.”

“Do you have any idea how Nether feels right now? Any idea?” I could see Silas shift uneasily, a hand brushing the back of his neck. His gaze dropped as if he were in thought. “I didn’t do any of this to hurt anyone or ruin anything, Jackson,” he said quietly. “All I wanted was to help. I failed Zephyr once and it cost me everything. I just didn’t want to fail you too.” His voice cracked on the last words, and despite everything, I couldn’t help feeling a little bad for him.

He was standing in the center of the hallway, his presence so massive it seemed to dwarf the very architecture of the manor. He hadn't raised his voice. He hadn't shifted into his wolf. He was simply there, dressed in a suit that looked like armor, his hands clasped casually behind his back. "Father," Jax gasped, his bravado vanishing like smoke in a gale. "I'm here for my wife. I know she’s here and I'm here to take her back to where she belongs. She belongs at the manor. She’s my Luna…" "She is nothing to you," Silas said. His voice was a low, smooth vibration that carried more weight than Jax’s screaming ever could. It was the sound of a psychological execution. "You signed the papers, Ja

Jackson stepped out, barefoot, his shirt clinging to his chest, his eyes shadowed with the same exhaustion I felt. “Couldn’t sleep?” I asked, even though I already knew the answer. He shook his head, joining me at the railing. “You?” I gave a dry chuckle. “Not a chance.” We stood there for a moment, saying nothing. Just breathing in the same stillness. “It’s him, isn’t it?” I finally asked. “Uncle Silas.” Jackson’s jaw clenched slightly. “Yeah.” The silence stretched again, heavier this time. “He’s… unsettling,” I said, trying to put words to the twisted feeling I got every time Silas looked at me—or anyone. “Like something in him doesn’t belong in this house. Or in this pack.”

He makes me feel a lot of things that I hate feeling. I walk towards his room as I take a deep breathe to look a little confident and sexy. But as soon as I step in, all the air in my lungs is knocked out, Jake Carson was shirtless, beating the punching bag so hard that I felt like it was going to tear into half. Holy fuck. Why God?

“I counted to thirty! Thirty! Fucking thirty, you bitch!” Silas doesn't sense the danger which is shocking, because with the force of Var's push, my eyes are supposed to be blood red. Yet, he continues to chatter like he’s reciting the manual to a used good, “....she's desperate to please, she bites when you tell her to, and she whines when you deny her. And, to be honest with you, I had to fuck her one last time before I handed her over.….” He stops, his gaze going momentarily distant, like he’s running a video loop in his mind, eyes half-lidded. “She's so goddamn tight, man, she makes you ache, and the way she squirts….?”