Page 31 of Fire and Silk

I freeze.

Three guards.

Standing like statues just outside the door, rifles strapped to their backs, sidearms at their hips, faces stone-cold.

No surprise in their eyes.

They werewaiting.

“NO!” I scream, trying to slam the door shut, but it’s too late. One grabs the edge, yanks it wide, and the others surge in.

I stumble backward.

Hands grab at my arms—my waist—one gets a fistful of my hair. I twist, scream, elbow anything I can reach. One lets out a curse. I shove my knee up—make contact with a groin—and he grunts but doesn’t let go.

“LET ME GO!”

They’re strong.

My feet leave the ground.

I thrash, kick, claw—but it’s useless. They drag me backward through the threshold, my heels scraping against the tile, my lungs burning from the scream.

The guards haul me in like I’m nothing. My body bends, writhes, but I can’t stop them. My arms are pinned. One of them jerks me upright, forcing me to stand in front of the bed again.

He hasn’t moved.

Still sitting in that chair like it’s a throne. One leg lazily crossed over the other, spine angled just enough to look amused. But his hand—his elegant, veined hand—is pressed over his nose, blood seeping between his fingers in a thin, dark trail.

And behind that hand, he's grinning.

Actually grinning.

He peels his fingers away slowly, revealing the curve of his mouth—smiling, teeth faintly pink-stained. His nose is crooked now, blood trickling from one nostril down to the swell of his upper lip.

“You broke it,” he says with a touch of awe, like I’ve given him an early birthday gift.

I’m still breathing hard, held tight between two guards, wrists trapped at my sides. My chest heaves. Sweat stings my eyes. And still, I glare at him like I can shatter bone with it.

He rises from the chair.

No rush. No threat in his pace. But the space shrinks the moment he stands.

He walks over and stops in front of me, eyes skating over my face—reading me, daring me.

Then his fingers lift—two of them—and he tilts my chin up. His thumb presses along the edge of my jaw, gentle but unyielding. My skin burns where he touches.

His eyes search mine like they’re looking for a secret I haven’t even told myself yet.

“I am so fucking glad you have some fight in you,” he murmurs, that crooked smile pulling wider. “This is going to be fun after all.”

His breath hits my cheek. Warm. Tainted with metal and citrus.

I try to jerk away. The guard holding my shoulders tightens his grip.

Severo drops my chin with a flick of his fingers and turns his head, speaking over his shoulder.

“No food. No water. Not until she apologizes for being mean to me.”