Avery looked at the person responsible for snapping Mr. Keaton's wrist and there he was.
Silas.
His eyes, usually unreadable and calm were now sharp with unfiltered rage. His entire face was contorted with it, a rage that seemed like it wouldn't be satisfied with anything less than Keaton's complete destruction.
Keaton had fallen to the ground, groaning, his good hand wrapped tightly around his broken wrist as he stared up in confusion and pain, trying to make sense of what had just happened.
"Are you alright, Avy!?" Silas rushed to her, his hands immediately gripping her shoulders as his eyes scanned her, her arms, her face, her posture, looking for any sign that she'd been harmed.
Avery looked up at him, heart still thudding in her chest. Her eyes were wide, not from fear, but from surprise.
She had never seen Silas like this before.
So angry.
So worried.
So… uncontrolled.
