Chapter 25 · Silver Picks a Side

The silver was cold enough to burn.

I woke with it pressed under my jaw, right where the pulse hammered. Cain's hand was steady. His eyes weren't his.

I didn't move. Didn't breathe loud. The cabin floor was hard under my shoulders and I could smell smoke from the dead fire and something else. Blood maybe. Mine or his, I couldn't tell yet.

"Cain."

His head tilted. Not like he heard me. Like something wearing him heard prey make a sound.

The mark on his throat was black now, not the usual ember-glow. It crawled up past his jaw, fine lines splitting toward his ear like cracks in glass. His pupils had blown wide and the edges looked silver. Not reflected light. Silver from the inside.

"Cain, it's me."

Nothing. His grip didn't shake. The knife didn't waver. It was one of the old ones from the wall, the kind with the worn leather wrap and a blade that had been sharpened so many times the edge looked like a whisper.

I could feel my pulse against it.

This was the man who pulled me out of the rest stop.