Chapter 52 · Silas Wants Her Back

"Put the weapon down, Vesper. Slowly."

Silas stood three steps away with a black pulse-rifle aimed at my chest. Behind me, Julian's hand locked around my wrist, keeping me from lunging.

His grip was hot. Too hot. The soul-bind had been burning since we crossed the League's sealed gate, and every pulse from him ran straight through my bones.

"You brought me to a trap," I said.

Julian's thumb pressed against my pulse. "I brought you to the only person who can remove the contract."

"You knew he was here."

"I knew he would come."

"That's not better."

Silas smiled without lowering the rifle. He looked exactly the same as he had in every League broadcast—perfect suit, perfect hair, perfect calm. The city's favorite strategist. The man who had called me a traitor while my powers were ripped out of my body.

The man who had locked me in a cell and signed the order to keep me there.

"Still sharp," Silas said. "That was always your problem. You ask questions after the knife is already in your back."

I twisted against Julian's grip. "Let go."

"No."

"I wasn't asking you."

"I know.