POV: Silas Vincent
Silas paced near the edge of the training mat, adrenaline still pumping from his sparring session with Max. He wiped sweat from his brow, gritting his teeth. Something had been gnawing at him all day — a sense of unease he couldn't name.
Then Oliver walked into the room.
Silas stopped.
Froze.
His nostrils flared before he could even think. A scent — subtle, clinging, familiar.
Too familiar.
Sam.
All over him.
Silas (dangerously low):
"Why do you smell like him?"
Oliver blinked. "What?"
Max straightened from the far end of the room. "Silas, don't—"
Silas (stepping forward):
"Why do you smell like my brother?"
Oliver took a step back. "I—I hugged him earlier. That's all."
Silas growled — literally growled — fists clenched, the bond twisting like a wire inside his chest.
Silas:
"You don't touch him like that."
Oliver's lips parted in disbelief. "We're friends—"
Silas (snapping):
"He's ours! Not yours. Not anymore."
The door slammed open.
Sam.
He moved fast — stepping between Oliver and Silas, voice ice-cold.
Sam (flatly):
"Back. Off."
Silas stared at him. "You're letting him cling to you like a—"
Sam (cutting him off, voice rising):
"Don't test me, Silas."
And then—he broke.
Sam (snapping):
"You want to know what Oliver is to me? Fine."
> "He's the only person who's ever seen me — the real me — and stayed."
> "He's been there when I was in pieces, when I didn't even want to keep going."
> "He's my anchor. My best friend. My blood."
He stepped closer to Silas, meeting his brother's eyes with burning clarity.
> "I'll protect Noah. I want this bond. But if it ever comes down to a choice between me and Oliver—"
> "I'll pick me to die."
> "Because Oliver is everything. And I'll protect him — even if it's from you."
Silas stepped back as if struck. Max looked away.
And behind them…
Noah stood in the doorway, having heard every single word.
He didn't speak.
Didn't move.
Just watched — silently — as the heart of his bonded mate curled protectively around someone else.
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