Page 85 of Wicked Salvation

That perfect, princely smile that once made me feel chosen.

Now, I realize what a dangerous thing it is to bechosenby Silas Peregrine-Ashford IV.

I see it all.

Like smoke clearing after a fire.

And beneath the ashes—there he is. Not a savior. Not a suitor. Just a boy who thinks power is the same thing as love. Just a man who thinks if he cages something tightly enough, it won’t remember how to fly.

But I do.

God, I do.

So, I run.

His voice calls after me—stern, commanding—but I break through the crowd like a flame blazing through dry brush. My vision is blurry, faces twist into masks, voices melt together. A camera flash blinds me for a heartbeat.

Someone calls my name, but it’s muffled, distant.

All I can hear is the cacophony in my head.

A thousand voices screaming over each other—mine, my mother’s, Lucian’s, Silas’. The past, the future, the deafening now. It’s all wrong. Every moment, every breath, every decision I ever mistook for mine. It’s all unraveling like a thread pulled too tight.

I burst through doors into the cold.

The air hits like a slap. It tastes metallic, city-gritty. London sprawls before me—black cabs, neon windows, the glow of old street lamps. A world still spinning while mine collapses.

I run harder.

Silas’ shoes thunder behind me—I know the sound of them by heart, seared into my mind by fear. “Eden!”

No.

No.

Tears stream my cheeks. My Louboutins catch in a crack. My ankle nearly rolls. I kick them off, letting them clatter against the cobblestone like broken promises. I keep running, barefoot, the pavement biting into my soles.

I want to disappear.

Be smoke. Be wind. Be gone.

But he catches me.

Fingers clamp around my wrist, jerking me back so I crash into him. The breath is knocked from my lungs. I’m heaving, my face wet, the world spinning. When Silas’ face comes into view, he looks like a stranger.

“Are you insane?” he hisses, wild-eyed. “You’re humiliating us!”

“Let me go!” I scream.

I shove him with every ounce of strength I can find, but his fingers dig deeper. I feel bruises blooming under his touch, old ones resurfaces, new ones being made.

“You think you can run from me? From this?”

“Get off me!” I scream. “You lying scoundrel! Ihateyou and I never want to see you again in my entire life!” I drive the heel of my foot into his shoe with everything I have. He roars, pain slicing through him just enough for him to let him go.

I break free and keep running.

Silas lunges again, and I spin around, chest heaving, hair falling from its pins. My hand trembles, my eyes falling to my ring. The diamond catching a glint of streetlight. A bauble soaked in lies and betrayal.