Page 10 of Wicked Salvation

“I realized you hadn’t been wearing it. It was like trying to find a needle in a haystack. But I eventually found it by the tree where you forgave me. I had it cleaned.”

I run my fingers along the metal, along the new clasp.

The weight of it in my palm feels—odd. I’ve been so long without it that I don’t even remember what it feels like.

“Thank you.” I give him a smile. Turning my back to him, I let him put it around my neck. “This is thoughtful.”

I can’t manage to say anything else.

“And you’re enjoying this moment too much,” he replies.

I quirk an eyebrow. Shouldn’t I be enjoying it? “What’s your point?”

“You’re right, I don’t have one. I lose my train of thought a lot when I’m around you.” He chuckles. “On any other day I would be taking you right here, as the sun sets, swallowing all your screams and leaving my marks all over you.”

Thank you, Lord.

God knows I couldn’t handle sex with Silas today. He only wanted forgiveness for how he treated me outside of thebedroom—and I’m not sure if I can bring myself to tell him that I want that to change, too.

I’d want to try having sex in a bed. And not always from behind or with my body in a weird position, or hanging out of a window. I suppose that’s a conversation for another day.

An especially strong pang of grief hits me then.

I have no one to talk to about this. As much as Vivienne hated Silas, at least she would have helped me figure out what to say. Maybe she’d even be happy that I’m trying to stand up for myself more—she always wanted me to do that.

Probably I should.

The lake in front of us is still, reflecting the last streaks of gold in the sky. It’s on the tip of my tongue—to tell Silas what I want, to see how he takes it. But he starts talking before I can get a word in.

“There’s something else I want more than your body right now.” Silas tilts his head, smiling. “I have one more gift for you.”

Whatever reprieveI felt from the wine by the lake is long gone.

Instead, I walk back to my dorm in the dark with a heaviness in my chest. The necklace burns against my skin.

I should be happy.

I should feel safe.

But I stick to the shadows as I walk, my hands folded behind me. I’ve just sealed something irreversible, and for the first time—I don’t feel sure.

Silas and I were by the lake for hours. The sun has long since set, and it’s almost curfew so very few students are out and aboutat this hour. I have to pass the place where they found Vivienne’s body on my walk back. I run past the spot, squeezing my eyes tight.

But the image of her—twisted and bloody like a beautiful, macabre doll—is burned into my memory. It’s there, lurking in the back of my head as I walk up the flights of stairs to what used to beourdorm room. I didn’t realize how much a privilege it was to call it that.

And as I fumble with my key, I hope she’s sitting on her bed when I open the door. I hope she’s there, smiling—with her perfect messy hair and sharp wit, thumbing through some obscure book—teasing me for being such a wimp, for getting so wrapped up in my feelings when she never really left.

A sliver of happiness courses through me.

But I push open the door.

And there, in the darkness. kneels Anastazya.

She doesn’t seem to realize that I’ve entered.

The room is shrouded in darkness, the only light coming from the moonlight streaming through the open window. I stand at the threshold of the door, trying to figure out what she’s doing. She’s kneeling by the side of her bed, murmuring to herself.

Oh. Praying.