Page 73

Because there’s a corner of me—black and cruel and burning—that wants her gaze. Wants her attention. Wants her teeth bared just for me, even if it’s in anger.Anything.But she doesn’t even bother. Doesn’t look up. Doesn’t pause. She justleaves me there.

I follow, eventually. Slowly. Deliberate steps down the stairwell, my hand trailing along the railing, leaving behind the ghost of possession in the polished wood. Not because I need the support. But because I want the house to remember I passed through it.

Unlike her.

Who passes through everything without being held.

But shewillbe.

Eventually, even the untouchable stops running.

Silas waits on the landing like he’s the one who planned all of this. Arms crossed, that smug little tilt to his grin—he knows I’m watching him. He lives for this. For the drama. For the subtle art of absolutely ruining my life with a well-timed smirk and a finger poke.

“You’re pouting,” he says, flicking my chest with two fingers like that somehow settles the conversation.

“I’mnot,” I grit out through my teeth, because the others are still in earshot and the last thing I need is Luna thinking I’m the jealous type. I am, of course, but that’s not the point.

“You are. Your lip’s doing that twitchy thing.”

“I’mbrooding.”

He hums thoughtfully like he’s analyzing a particularly complex painting. “You’re upset I took your thunder.”

“Youstoleit. Right out from under me. That moment was mine—mine to have, mine to ruin, mine to own—and you waltzed in and flexed like a goddamn idiot and she smiled at you like you invented gravity.”

He blinks once, slowly, then nods like a priest delivering last rites. “I can fix this.”

My entire body freezes. “Silas—”

But he’s already winking and bounding down the stairs with too much purpose for someone who’s never once in his life had a real plan. I lunge after him, fully prepared to throttle him before he opens that disaster mouth of his—but Elias, like the fucking traitor he is, steps in front of me and stretches.

“Don’t ruin this,” Elias says, yawning theatrically. “Let him dig the hole.”

“He’s going to set the entire forest on fire just to bury the body,” I snap.

Elias shrugs. “Then we roast marshmallows. You brought this on yourself.”

Below us, Silas sidles up to Luna with the subtlety of a peacock in heat.

“I mean,” he says loudly, too loudly, “it was reallyAmbrosewho figured everything out. Brilliant. Brilliant bastard. Did I tell you he—he collects rare poetry books? Loves cats. Cries during sad movies. Honestly, the most emotionally mature out of all of us.So brave.Like, if bravery was a guy, it’d be Ambrose with a sword.”

I’m going to murder him.

Luna turns slowly, blinking at Silas like she can’t tell if he’s having a stroke or trying to flirt. “Are you… okay?”

“Just setting the record straight,” Silas beams. “Ambrose isdeep. And totally not emotionally repressed. And he smells like cedar and dark intentions, you know?”

“Oh my gods,” I groan, trying to shove past Elias, who’s nowlaughing. Full body laughter, head back, arms crossed, loving every second of this.

Silas keeps going.

“He once saved a kitten. Named it Omen. He writes secret poetry in a journal he hides under his pillow. Justdevastating metaphors. You shoulddefinitelyask him to read one sometime—preferably when he’s shirtless. Really brings the words to life.”

Luna raises a brow. “Does he?”

“Absolutely. He’s just shy. Butdeeply romantic. You know, brooding types, they don’t show it, but he thinks about you all the time. Like—constantly. I’m sure he has, like, a whole file in his brain of your expressions.”

Silas turns around and gives me athumbs up.