Chapter 18 · The Price of Silence

"Give it to me."

Kane's hand clamped around my wrist before I could even blink. I jerked back, but he didn't budge. He hauled me forward, slamming me flush against the hard plane of his chest. He smelled like ozone and old blood—heavy, oppressive, and way too close.

He didn't look at my face. His gold-flecked eyes were locked on the crumpled parchment I was trying to hide behind my thigh.

"It's nothing," I lied. My voice shook. "Just a scrap of paper."

"You're a terrible liar, Elara." He leaned in, his breath hot against my ear. "And you're shaking. Why are you shaking?"

I tried to twist away, but he shifted his weight, pinning me against the mahogany desk. The wood dug into my spine. He reached down—his fingers brushing my skin, sending a jolt of electricity through me that made my breath hitch—and ripped the map from my hand in one violent motion.

He smoothed the paper on the desk. The air in the room grew heavy, thick as water, until I felt like I was drowning.

"A map?" he whispered.