POV: Silas

Silas learned how much a man could hate a wedding ring from a television screen.

Grant Quinn stood outside the house he had terrorized, holding his left hand over his heart so every camera could see the gold band.

"My wife is injured," Grant told the reporters. "She's confused, isolated, and surrounded by armed men. I only want Evelyn and our daughter brought home safely."

Home.

Silas's wolf struck the inside of his ribs.

The county courthouse steps were crowded with microphones, camera cables, and people who had discovered an urgent interest in Evelyn's marriage after ignoring her bruises for years. Silas stood half a pace behind her. Close enough to reach her. Far enough that no photograph could make his body look like a cage.

Evelyn watched Grant on the news screen across the street.

Her fingers went cold inside Silas's hand.

"Do you want to leave?" he asked.

"No."

"Do you want me to let go?"

She tightened her grip. "No."

Two answers. Both hers.

The wolf settled by one degree.

Miriam stepped to the microphones and confirmed only what had become public record: a fraudulent child-removal attempt, an internal corruption investigation, and the existence of emergency family-court filings. She refused questions about Sophie's location.

The first reporter ignored her.

"Mr. Blackwood, are you having an affair with Officer Quinn's wife?"

Every camera turned toward Silas.

The bond delivered Evelyn's pulse like a second heartbeat.

Silas could have said yes and watched Grant's face crack across every screen in the county.

His wolf wanted more than that. It wanted him to pull Evelyn against his body and tell the world what she was. Mate. Future Luna. The woman whose scent had changed the shape of every room he entered.

But Evelyn was still legally married. A public claim from another powerful man would not free her. It would only replace one story written over her with another.

"No," Silas said.

The answer hurt Evelyn. He felt it before he saw her turn.

He continued before the reporters could build the wrong headline.

"An affair requires secrecy and betrayal. Mrs. Quinn has told her husband, the police, this court, and every camera here that she left him after he tried to kill her. The fact that paperwork has not caught up with her decision does not make her his property."

Questions erupted.

"Are you romantically involved?"

"Did she spend the night at your residence?"

"Is the Blackwood Reapers president claiming another man's wife?"

Silas looked at the last reporter.

"No man is claiming her."

The noise thinned.

"Not her husband. Not me. Not anyone. Ask her what she wants."

He released Evelyn's hand.

The loss of contact cut through him, but he stepped away from the microphones.

Evelyn stared at the empty space he had made.

Then she entered it.

"I want my daughter safe," she said. "I want access to the money I earned and the medical records created in my name. I want my husband's friends to stop dressing his violence in official language. And I want reporters to stop asking which man owns me long enough to ask why a police officer ordered mountain cameras shut down before his wife's car went over the edge."

That question changed the crowd.

Not everyone believed her. Silas could smell doubt, excitement, sympathy, and the sour thrill of scandal. But three reporters turned away from him and began shouting questions about the dispatch recording instead.

Grant's image remained frozen on the screen behind them, wedding ring over his heart.

Evelyn had moved the story without lying, begging, or borrowing Silas's authority.

His pride in her was almost as dangerous as desire.

A woman near the barricade raised her phone. "Mrs. Quinn, your husband says the bikers are keeping you from speaking to him. Will you take his call right now?"

As if summoned, Evelyn's phone began to ring.

GRANT.

The name appeared above a photograph of him holding Sophie at a county fair. Evelyn had never changed the contact image.

Silas looked away from it.

He knew better than to hate a photograph taken before he existed in her life.

He hated it anyway.

"You don't have to answer," Miriam said.

Evelyn studied the screen. "If I decline, he'll say Silas stopped me."

"Then let him," Silas said.

She looked up.

"You don't need to perform access to yourself just to prove I haven't taken it away."

The phone continued ringing.

Evelyn pressed decline.