Page 161 of Crave

And so did Silas.

“No,” Silas said, his voice cutting through the room. “We handle this ourselves.”

Jude’s jaw tensed. It was subtle. So goddamn subtle. But it was there.

For the first time, I saw it. The shift. The crack beneath the surface.

Once I saw it…I couldn’t look away.

Silas’ fingers flexed at his sides. The tension in his body was unreadable, but I felt it in my bones.

“We need to move.” Theo murmured, glancing from one brother to the other.

Silas nodded once, sharp, decisive. “Yeah we do…and now.”

The finality in his voice sent a chill through me.

Whatever had started tonight—we were already too late to stop it.

The warehouse pulsed with tension, thick and suffocating. The men moved with precision, setting up a perimeter, reinforcing exits, checking their weapons. Orders were issued, plans solidified, but I wasn’t a part of any of it.

I was watching. Always watching.

Like an outsider looking in.

I stood near the edge of the room, arms wrapped around myself, my breath slow and measured as I tried to block out the weight of their distrust pressing against my skin.

Jude had vanished outside, his suggestion about London St. James still lingering in the air. I had seen the way Silas had shut him down. The way his shoulders had gone stiff, the way his fingers twitched at his sides before he masked it under his usual calm.

Jude didn’t usually react like that.

And that meant something.

Theo was still fuming, pacing near the back of the warehouse, barking orders at the men like he was barely holding himself together.

Silas was silent, watching everything, his eyes dark and unreadable.

And then there was Gabe.

He wasn’t standing with the others. He was closer to me, near the stacks of crates, running a hand over his face like he was trying to shake off the weight pressing down on all of us.

I swallowed, shifting slightly, my boots scraping against the floor.

His head turned. His gaze landed on me.

And for a moment, we just stood there.

He was the only one who wasn’t treating me like I was poison, the only one who hadn’t let his anger consume him completely. Maybe it was because he had always been different from the others—softer in ways the rest of them weren’t.

Or maybe I was just desperate for any kind of warmth.

I took a hesitant step toward him. Then another.

He didn’t move, didn’t back away, but his jaw tightened slightly, a flicker of something in his expression that I couldn’t quite read.

I stopped a breath away from him. Close enough to feel the heat of him, close enough to see the tension in his shoulders.

“I don’t know how to fix this,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper.