Page 38 of Snarl First, Kiss Later (Alpha’s Prophecy #2)

THIRTY-EIGHT

SILAS

T he storm had passed, but the scent of fire still clung to the earth.

Silas stood overlooking the grounds below.

His arms were crossed, jaw tight, every part of him vibrating with the residue of war.

Dawn bled slowly across the sky, streaking the clouds in rust and ash.

Bodies had been cleared. The soil still soaked red in patches, but the chaos, at least the immediate kind, was over.

The last of Roman’s loyalists were hauled in at first light.

Every surviving Son of the old order rounded up, shackled with the same enchanted metal that held their former leader.

Some still snarled when they passed Silas, eyes wild with righteous fervor.

Others looked broken, quiet. He didn’t care which. They were done.

Ava stood beside him, arms wrapped across her chest. Her braid hung loose over one shoulder, a smudge of dried blood still faint on her neck from the fight that ended with her blade sunk into a traitor’s throat. She hadn’t slept.

Neither had he.

But this—this moment of stillness—it felt earned.

“Red Pack sent word,” she said, her voice low. “They’re pledging formal alliance now. Full integration. No more fence-sitting.”

Silas nodded, his eyes tracking the movement of the peacekeepers below. “About damn time.”

“And PEACE officially declared Gideon’s Torch fractured. What’s left of them went into hiding.”

“They’ll crawl back out eventually.”

“Then we’ll bury them again.” She said it without flinching. No fear. No hesitation.

He looked at her, studied the firm set of her jaw, the tired steel in her gaze. There were still bruises under her eyes, and her knuckles were raw. She hadn’t stopped moving since the last battle, since Roman tried to torch everything they’d built.

“You were right,” Silas said.

Ava raised a brow. “About what?”

“That you’re not just part of this—you’re essential to it.” He exhaled. “I spent years thinking I had to fight alone. Keep people at arm’s length. Protect them by shutting them out.”

She glanced at him. “How’s that worked out?”

He cracked a faint grin. “Terribly.”

Down in the courtyard, Landon stood near the war table, the remains of it anyway. The whole place looked like someone had punched holes through history. But Landon’s shoulders were relaxed now. Sonya stood beside him, the baby wrapped against her chest. They were safe. The child had lived.

Silas’s eyes narrowed slightly as movement stirred behind Landon. Two PEACE envoys, faces tight, unreadable.

“I thought they’d argue,” Ava muttered, following his gaze.

“They tried.”

Landon hadn’t budged.

Roman had no more aces. No more followers. The court was united. The packs were aligned. And the humans—thanks to Ava —finally understood the threat wasn’t supernatural blood, but corrupted power.

The lead PEACE official stepped forward now, holding a scroll and reading aloud, the words echoing faintly even from here.

“In light of recent events, the organization known as PEACE relinquishes any claim to formal trial for the prisoner Roman. The authority of justice is hereby restored to the sovereign domain of the court.”

Silas exhaled slowly.

It was done.

Landon stepped forward then, his voice low but unmistakable. “Execution will be carried out tomorrow. At dawn.”

There were no cheers. No applause. Just a wave of breath through the court like the whole place finally exhaled.

Ava shifted beside Silas. “Think he’ll sleep tonight?”

“No,” Silas said. “But he’ll rest after.”

They stood in silence for a moment, watching the court begin to breathe again. Guards moved to reinforce the perimeter. Caz shouted orders near the armory, already thinking two steps ahead, always preparing for the next threat. But for once, Silas wasn’t scanning for an exit.

His gaze landed on Ava again. “You could leave now, you know. It’s over.”

She looked into his eyes trying to see if he believed what he was saying. “You think I was here just for Roman?”

He didn’t answer. He didn’t have to.

“I stayed because of all of it. Because of Landon. Because of Sonya. Because of that baby.” Her voice softened. “Because of you.”

Silas swallowed hard. “I don’t deserve any of that.”

“You didn’t earn it,” she said, stepping closer. “You bled for it.”

He brushed his thumb along the curve of her jaw, still surprised every time she didn’t flinch. Still amazed by how she leaned into him instead.

“You know what scares me?” he asked.

“Clowns.”

He huffed a quiet laugh. “Losing this. Losing you.”

She touched his chest, right over the scar from Roman’s blade. “Then stay. Don’t run. Build something.”

He nodded slowly. “Yeah. I think it’s time.”

They didn’t need to kiss. Not this time.

They just stood together, shoulder to shoulder, watching the sun rise over a court that still bore the cracks of war but had chosen to survive anyway.

Silas looked toward the dungeon entrance, where Roman waited for judgment.

“I’ll be there tomorrow,” Ava said quietly. “He doesn’t get to see us fall apart.”

“No,” Silas said. “He gets to see what he couldn’t destroy.”