Page 15 of Snarl First, Kiss Later (Alpha’s Prophecy #2)

FIFTEEN

AVA

T he little boy had barely stopped whimpering when Ava handed him over to the healer with shaking arms. His skin was still damp, his eyes wide and glossy. He’d clung to her like she was the only thing in the world keeping him from shattering. Maybe she was. For a moment.

Now he was safe, tucked into the arms of someone who knew what to do next.

Ava’s fingers, still streaked with dirt and blood, hovered awkwardly at her sides.

Her jacket clung to her like a second skin, soaked with sweat and smoke.

The adrenaline hadn’t fully worn off yet, but her knees already threatened to buckle.

Landon was pacing nearby, phone clutched in one hand, his expression carved in granite.

“Explain,” he snapped without looking up.

Silas stood beside her, just a step back. His presence pulsed quiet, steady. Ava felt it like a tether between them.

“We were sweeping perimeter two,” Silas said, voice tight. “They came in fast. Two squads, maybe more. Organized. They weren’t trying to get in. They were sending a message.”

Landon’s gaze snapped up, sharp and unreadable. “And the message?”

Silas didn’t flinch. “That they’re not done.”

Ava shifted her weight. “They went after civilians. Kids.”

“Of course they did,” Landon muttered. “Cowards in war paint.”

Sonya emerged from the infirmary, one hand resting protectively on her belly, the other lightly braced on the doorframe. Her eyes, sharp and pale, found Ava’s first. “Is the pup okay?”

“Shaken. But alive.”

Sonya nodded. “Thank you.”

Ava nodded back but didn’t say anything. Her throat had gone dry somewhere between the riverbank and here. Her fingers twitched like they were still reaching for the kid in the water.

Landon turned to Silas, jaw clenched. “I need a full debrief. Caz is coordinating search teams.”

Silas gave a short nod, then glanced toward Ava. “She should rest.”

“I’m not a glass doll,” she said flatly.

“No, you’re a human who hasn’t slept in thirty hours and was just shot at by a cult of shifter extremists,” Silas shot back, softer than his words should have been. “You’ve got nothing to prove.”

Ava didn’t argue. Not because he was right but because she was too tired to win.

Landon’s brow furrowed as his eyes flicked between them. “Take ten. Then meet me in the war room.”

Silas nodded once. Ava felt dismissed, even though she wasn’t sure she’d been included to begin with.

The moment passed. Landon turned away. Sonya offered Ava a warm look of comfort, gratitude but didn’t hover. She disappeared down the hallway with a murmur of something to the healer.

And then it was just the two of them again.

Silas looked at her. Not like he had earlier in the fight when it was sharp, protective, wild, but something else. Raw. Quiet. Ava felt it settle over them like dust.

“You good?” he asked.

“No.”

He nodded like that was expected.

They walked side by side down the corridor that led away from the clinic. The hall was quiet, the usual hum of activity subdued by the weight of what had happened.

They stepped outside, into the courtyard where night clung low and thick. The scent of fire still lingered, faint now but stubborn.

Ava leaned against the cool stone wall, letting the silence stretch.

Silas didn’t push. He stood a few paces away, arms crossed, gaze scanning the treetops beyond the court’s high barrier wall. Ever vigilant.

“I’ve never pulled a kid out of water before,” Ava said, voice rough. “I’ve done a lot of things. Tourniquets, gunshot extractions, even helped amputate a leg once. But that… that kid looked at me like I was the whole damn moon.”

“He’d have drowned without you,” Silas said.

“Doesn’t make it feel any less insane.”

“Insane’s the new normal.”

She looked at him. “You’ve seen a lot of this, haven’t you?”

He nodded slowly. “Too much.”

“And still you stayed. Court, war, guilt…”

His gaze dropped for the first time that night. “Because I owed it.”

Ava studied him, the profile of his jaw, the shadows that clung to the scar on his neck. “You don’t talk much.”

“I talk enough.”

“You talk when it matters,” she amended. “I noticed that.”

Silas didn’t answer. But something in the way he stood shifted like she’d nudged a brick loose in that wall of his.

The moon slid behind a cloud. Darkness folded in closer.

He turned toward her. His expression was unreadable, but those pale grey eyes rimmed with gold—held something she wasn’t sure she wanted to acknowledge.

“I don’t regret today,” she said, barely a whisper. “But I’m tired. And scared. And every instinct in me is telling me to run.”

He took a step closer. “Then run.”

She stared at him, stunned.

“But don’t pretend like I’m not part of the reason you’re staying.”

Her breath caught. She didn’t want it to, but it did.

Silas stepped in again, close enough now that she could feel the warmth of him. His hand lifted slowly, then dropped. Hesitation, his old companion. But this time, he didn’t listen to it.

He kissed her.

It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t slow. It was a clash of everything unsaid—fire, fear, defiance. His lips crushed hers like he was afraid she’d disappear before he did it. And for one suspended breath, Ava let herself burn in it.

Just as suddenly, he broke away.

She stared at him, heart hammering, lips tingling, breath caught in her throat.

“You don’t know what you’re choosing,” Silas said hoarsely. His voice cracked with something more than warning. It was grief. It was fear.

Ava stepped back. “No. I don’t.”

She turned and walked away without another word. And Silas didn’t stop her.

The wind kicked up around the courtyard. Smoke. Dust. Ashes of another battle already written.

Tomorrow would come. And with it, consequences.

But tonight she let herself feel the ache in her chest and told herself it was just the adrenaline crashing.

It was safer that way.