Page 119 of Glass

“I should have told you,” I whisper. “But… I don’t think I was quite ready to part with it, yet. I haven’t been without it all these years.”

“Well,” Silas says carefully. He curls my fingers over the ring. “Now you don’t have to be without it, ever again. It’s yours, Stasi.”

I jerk. “You can’t. It’s your mother’s ring – I can’t keep it!”

He leans down, pressing his lips against mine. “That ring is for the woman I intend to marry, Anastasia. That’s what my dad always told me. And there is no one else that I plan on marrying anytime soon.”

I can’t speak, my heart filling up.

But then I croak. “Marriage?”

He hums. “I’m the oldest. Seems only fair that I get to make you Mrs Anastasia Tate. The twins can be your secret lovers.”

Rafe flushes. Kit wiggles his eyebrows at me.

“Right,” I breathe. “So… that’s all sorted, then.”

“Not quite,” Kit says, folding his arms. “There’s something else we need to do first.”

43 – Stasi

“We’ll be fine.”

I watch as Ellen nudges Silas out of the door. He looks delicious in his black tuxedo. And grim. Almost as grim as I feel.

“You know that if I could guarantee your safety, you would absolutely be there.”

I nod, slowly.

I do get it. I understand why I can’t attend the ball where they’re going to take Ella down. In public.

Silas sounds vaguely pleading. “Stasi.”

“Silas,” I mimic. “Go. Bring me her head.”

He hesitates. “Metaphorically, you mean. Because she’s probably going to—,”

“I know,” I snap. “And I’m annoyed that I don’t get to see it. But it’s not going to happen unless youget a move on.”

He offers me a small smile. “Rafe is going to record it.”

The man in question presses a kiss against my cheek as he passes me. “We can watch it in bed. With popcorn.”

I feel slightly mollified. Kit cups my cheek, and then he’s gone too.

And we’re… left behind.

Ellen turns to me, clapping her hands together. “Right. What are you waiting for?”

I stare at her. And her mouth curves up into a mischievous fucking smile that I’ve never seen on her face before.

“Do you want to go to the ball, or not?”

My mouth opens. And closes again, as she raises one eyebrow at me. “Ellen. They’re going to be furious.”

And sheshrugs. “They’ll live.”

“I don’t have a dress,” I say weakly.