Page 264

“WherehaveI seen you,” I mutter to myself, rolling a bone die across my palm. “Celebrity archive. Go.”

I hum while I sort through the Rolodex of pop culture I downloaded into my skull before the Void collapsed all our subscriptions. Could she be early-Megan Fox with a body count?Nah, too soft in the mouth. Margot RobbieifMargot had a history of setting fires. Still no. Florence Pugh in a horror flick?

Wait.

Wait, wait, wait.

Jessica-fucking-Lowndes.

I snap my fingers, delighted, nearly slipping off the rail. That’s it. The smirk. The tragic sex appeal. The wholeI could ruin you and still walk away cleaner than youenergy. Gods. Why do all the morally interesting women come prepackaged with good bone structure and contempt for men like me?

I grin, teeth sharp.

Oh right.

Because it makes mestarvefor them.

Down below, she shifts. Her gaze brushes the room like a blade testing where to press. Her silence is threaded through with teeth. It’s the kind that knows how to hurtwhenit chooses to speak. And fuck, I want to hear her say something stupid to me just so I can twist it into something worse.

She’s going to be a problem.

I hope she’s abigone.

“She’s going to run,” Malachi mutters from somewhere to my left, where he’s shadowing the edge of the room like the undead accountant he is. Always watching. Always tallying.

“Let her,” I reply, dropping down onto the nearest ledge like a cat that’s only pretending to be domestic. “She’ll taste better after she sweats a little.”

He glares at me like he wants to file a complaint with the Void’s HR department. Which, to be fair, is me. And I’mveryunprofessional.

“She’s not food.”

I raise a brow. “Everything is, eventually.”

His silence means I win that round.

She’s pretending she’s not watching Severin as he makes his big announcement. She’s pretending none of this matters to her. But I know posture, and I know liars, and I know girls who think survival is all about stillness.

She’ll move eventually. And when she does—I’ll be the one closest to theedge.That thought buzzes against my teeth. I roll it like a sweet I’m not ready to chew yet.

“She reminds me of someone,” I say aloud.

“Don’t say it,” Dorian mutters from where he’s scribbling in his ruined sketchbook.

I grin wider. “Jessica Lowndes.”

“Gods help us,” he sighs.

“Iknow, right?”

Soren doesn’t even look up. “If you start singing again, I’ll throw you into the Wyrm pit.”

Rude.

But not untrue.

Still. My attention shifts as Layla finally folds the parchment. Her expression doesn’t change, but something in her posture does—tightens. Quiet calculation radiates off her in waves, cold and lovely. She hands the paper back to Severin like it burned.

Whatever was written there—itmeantsomething to her.