Chapter 9 · The Price of Sync

"You’re shaking, little ghost. Is it the guilt or the cold?"

Silas’s voice didn’t come from his lips. It echoed directly in the center of my skull, vibrating against my consciousness like a serrated blade.

I tried to recoil, but there was nowhere to go. I was anchored to his nervous system, a parasite clinging to the spine of a monster. In the shared void of our mind, he looked exactly like he did in the mirror—sharp cheekbones, eyes like frozen ink, and a smirk that made me want to rip my way out of his chest.

"Shut up," I snapped. "I'm not shaking. I'm calculating."

"Calculating what?" He leaned in, his presence pressing against mine, heavy and suffocating. "How many more of my memories you need to swallow before you can actually move my left arm? Or maybe you're wondering if you'll actually survive the next time someone tries to carve my heart out?"

He laughed, a low, cruel sound that resonated through the shared marrow of our bones. "You’re not a hunter anymore, Ella. You’re a tick. A little, starving tick living off the blood of a man you hate.