Scene One — Five Years Ago
The smell of burnt rubber and blood was something Corvin never forgot. Not five years ago. Not ever.
He was running. Through rain. Over shattered glass. Toward the crumpled car twisted around a lamppost like some goddamn death sculpture.
"Maria!"
The scream tore out of him, but it was the silence that answered. Then the cough. Small. Weak. From the backseat.
Silas.
Thirteen, dazed, blood crusted at his temple, legs trembling as Corvin yanked open the mangled door. Kid was shaking, wide eyes filled with a kind of empty confusion, like the world had gone blank on him.
But Maria—
She was half-out the driver's seat, blood pouring from her ribs, lips pale. She looked at Corvin and smiled like she already knew. Like she'd been waiting for him to show up.
"Take... care of him."
That was it.
The rain didn't stop, but her breathing did.
He held her till the ambulance came. Held her while Silas screamed and then stopped, like something switched off inside him. Corvin never let go. Not till she was zipped up. Not even after.
---
Scene Two — Present
The elevator opened into silence. Corvin's penthouse looked how it always did after a night like this — clean, expensive, too big.
Silas didn't say anything. Still buzzed from the club, still watching Corvin like he was trying to figure out a puzzle with missing pieces.
Corvin tossed his keys into the tray. "You want anything?"
Silas shrugged. "I'm good."
That damn shrug again. Like he didn't care. Like tonight hadn't cracked something open.
Corvin was about to push more when the doorbell rang. Once. Twice. Three sharp hits like someone pissed off and not hiding it.
He opened it.
Victor.
Tall, sharp-suited, smug bastard with cheekbones you could slice meat on. One of the old crew — the ones with too much money, not enough morals.
"Thought I'd check in," Victor said, stepping in like he owned the place. "You left in such a... dramatic fashion."
Corvin sighed. "Not now."
But Victor's eyes had already drifted past him.
To Silas.
"Ah," Victor smiled, like a predator spotting weakness. "That's the kid?"
Silas blinked. "I'm not a kid."
Victor chuckled. "Oh, no, of course not. You've... grown. But God—" He tilted his head, stepping closer, voice lower. "He looks just like her. So you later, went back to adopt her kid."
Corvin stiffened. Silas's brow pulled.
"Like who?" Silas asked.
Victor ignored him, still speaking to Corvin. "Same eyes. Same soft mouth. Even that little stubborn twitch. Five years and you find a carbon copy? What are the odds?"
Silas turned. "Who are you talking about?"
"Maria," Victor said casually, like he was talking weather. "You don't remember her?"
Silas's lips parted. "That was... my mom's name if I can remember correctly."
Victor grinned, all teeth. "Oh, sweetheart. You didn't tell him, Cor?"
"Victor."
"I mean, everyone knew you were obsessed with her. Even after she married that loser. You were always hanging around—"
"I said," Corvin snapped, stepping between them, "leave."
Victor raised his hands. "Alright, alright. Didn't know the past was such a trigger. Just saying... he's got her face. And you've got a type."
That was it.
The glass from the bar table didn't stand a chance. Neither did Victor's face.
The bottle cracked with a sickening thud, a spray of red against the white marble floor.
Victor collapsed, groaning. "You're insane—"
"Get the fuck out of my house," Corvin growled, dragging him by the collar and shoving him through the elevator.
When he turned, Silas was standing near the kitchen island. Frozen.
His voice came out small. "Is it true?"
Corvin's chest heaved. "What?"
"You loved my mom."
Corvin said nothing.
Silas took a step back. "Did you?"
Silas's hands were shaking. His eyes wide.
"You loved her... didn't you?"
Corvin stared.
And said nothing.
Silas took a step back. "You looked at me and saw her."
Still nothing.
"Am I just her replacement?"
Corvin turned, jaw working. "No."
"Then why didn't you ever tell me? Why for God's sake."
"Because it doesn't matter now. You lost your memory and it was better that way. I raised you as my own, you repay that by being quiet, not asking questions."
"To you maybe." Silas's voice cracked. "Not to me. I'm not a fucking child anymore, not a puppy or a pet. I NEED TO KNOW THE TRUTH!!!!!"
And then—
Silas turned and ran. Out the front door. Down the stairs. He just wanted to get away from this house he had be looked in for most for the last five years.
Barefooted, he ran as fast as he could. His throat burned like alcohol was through down it.
He didn't know where he was going.
Didn't care.
He just had to get away, far away.
From the truth. From Corvin. From himself.
And behind him—Corvin didn't follow.