Page 32

And Silas.

Sitting cross-legged on the floor like a child in time-out, staring at the ceiling like he’s contemplating mortality. Or how many more of his ex-lovers are about to come crawling out of the grave.

“I can’t believe we’re having this meeting,” Elias mutters, voice dry. “You realize how insane this sounds, right?”

I cut him a look sharp enough to gut him. “You’re not the one whose past mistakes are resurrecting themselves.”

He snorts. “Speak for yourself.”

Silas groans, flopping dramatically onto his back like he’s ready to die. “It was one time.”

Orin arches a brow. “It’s never one time with you.”

I stop pacing, plant my hands on the table, and glare at all of them. “The problem isn’t that Silas has a sordid history. The problem is that history is showing up here. Now. In this realm.”

I glance at Riven, who hasn’t spoken yet. He meets my gaze, jaw tight, and nods once. He gets it.

We all do.

Because if Taliah can crawl out of whatever grave she fell into, who’s to say the others can’t?

And it’s not just Silas.

None of us are clean.

Orin clears his throat, breaking the charged silence. “You’re assuming this is limited to Silas.”

“It’s not,” I snap, straightening. “That’s why I called this meeting.”

Elias raises a brow, grinning like the disaster he is. “So what—you want us to make a list? ‘People We’ve Fucked Who Might Come Back to Kill Us’?”

Silas groans again, dragging a hand over his face. “I don’t even remember half their names.”

I roll my eyes, fighting the urge to throttle him. “You’ll remember them if they show up at our door.”

Orin’s gaze sharpens. “This isn’t about sex.”

“It never is,” I agree. “It’s about who we were before Luna. What we did. And who might be coming to collect.”

That sobers them. Even Elias, who shifts in his seat, smile slipping.

We’re all thinking the same thing. We didn’t walk away from our pasts unscarred. And the Hollow doesn’t let anything stay buried.

I glance toward the door, where Luna’s absence feels like a shadow stretching across the room. She’s the reason I’m having this conversation without her. Because if she knew how deep the rot went—how many ghosts we left behind—she’d do what she always does.

She’d try to save us.

And I’m not sure there’s saving to be done.

Silas clears his throat, still sprawled pathetically on the floor like a man awaiting execution. “You know,” he says, voice too light, “I have a solution.”

Riven glances at him like he’s already regretting existing in the same room.

I level Silas with a flat stare. “Please. Enlighten us.”

Silas grins, all teeth and trouble, like he’s about to deliver the Sermon of Madness. “We become hermits.”

Elias groans from his chair, throwing his head back. “Here we fucking go.”