It was like her greeting almost shut something down inside him. Silas had only ever heard that tone from people who’d already given up. But what the hell did Rae think she’d given up on? And he couldn’t think straight looking at the bruising on her face, so he focused a little to the left, only subconsciously aware of what the action might look like. But it was self-preservation on his part; he didn’t want to close his eyes and have the only image burned on the inside of his eyelids the image of Rae beat up. Was this what it had been like for her after he and Brandon had gone after each other?
Because he hadn’t been looking straight at her he only barely caught the wince when she moved. Hell, it wasn’t just the eye then. She was as beat up as Bea. If not worse.
Fuck. At least he had his answers now. He could tell Regan and Brandon that some of their suspicions were right. “Fuck Rae,” he finally responded, voice even, but only because if he put anything into it it would just be anger. Not at Rae, but the situation. The damn Bedford group was a thorn in their side. “Fuck.” He couldn’t even really process, the anger was seeping that deep.
Couldn’t imagine Rae and Bea taking on a couple of men. Men that were larger than they were, that probably wouldn’t have had a problem killing them.
He was overwhelmed.
Exhaling, he shut the door behind him and leaned heavily against it. His hands curled into fists at his side. “Why the,” he started, but where the hell was he going with it? “God Rae,” there was still no inflection in his words.
Maybe he should have just walked back out that door, because his head was in so many different places now he didn’t even know where to start. “You could have been killed,” he said, vehemence finally crept into his words, and though she couldn’t know it, it had nothing to do with anger at her and everything to do with the fear of the possibility that he could have lost her.
Why hadn’t she told him earlier? What did she think he’d do?