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It’s not like they chose this. The binding wasn’t some grand declaration, no sacred promise. It wasn’t even something I understood before it happened. And yet, I feel it, the undeniable thread pulling me to them, the weight of it settling deep in my bones.
But I don’t know if they feel it.
Not really.
And if they do, they don’t care.
I might as well be a rock for all the notice Riven is giving me. And Silas? He’s already moved on, like the moment has passed, like nothing about this matters.
Instead, he’s focused on Elias, who is currently standing opposite him, hands shoved deep in his pockets, both middle fingers displayed like some crude offering to the gods of bad decisions.
Silas rolls his shoulders, shifting his weight from foot to foot, fists clenching and unclenching like he’s just waiting for an excuse.
I exhale sharply. “Seriously?”
Neither of them acknowledges me.
Elias tilts his head, smirk lazy, but I see the sharp glint behind it, the way his silver eyes track every shift of Silas’s body. “What’s the matter, princess?” His voice is pure mockery. “Not happy to see me?”
Silas’s answering grin is all teeth. “You know, I thought I missed you.” He cracks his knuckles. “Turns out, I was wrong.”
Elias’s smirk doesn’t falter. “You sure? Because I’m feeling a lot of emotions coming from your general direction.” He taps his temple. “Did Severin mess with your little head? Or are you just mad that you missed my pretty face?”
Silas takes a step forward, but Elias doesn’t move.
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “If you two are about to throw punches after being locked in a hell-prison, I swear to the gods- ”
Silas doesn’t take his eyes off Elias. “Oh, I’m throwing punches.”
Elias grins. “Good. I was worried you went soft in there.”
“Fuck around and find out.”
Elias lifts his brows. “Oh, Silas, you’re making me blush.”
Silas swings.
Elias dodges, twisting just enough to let the fist graze past him before stepping back with a flourish, like this is all some game to him. He exhales dramatically, dragging a hand through his hair. “You’re so violent. It’s honestly kind of hot.”
Silas lunges again.
I sigh, crossing my arms as I watch them circle each other like rabid animals, fists twitching, insults flying.
Layla walks up beside me, watching with mild interest. “Is this, like, a sex thing for them?”
I groan. “No. But thanks for putting that in my head.”
Layla hums. “I mean, it would explain a lot.”
I don’t dignify that with a response. Silas lands a hit, not hard, just enough to jostle Elias back a step. Elias stumbles, blinks, then tilts his head like he’s considering something.
Then, in the single worst moment of my life, he winks and says, “Daddy.”
Silas freezes. So do I. Layla, bless her soul, chokes on air.
There’s a beat of absolute silence, Elias staring at Silas with his usual shit-eating grin, Silas standing there like his entire brain has short-circuited, and me, contemplating whether I should just walk into the Rift and be done with it.
Silas slowly lowers his fists.