Chapter 6 · Seven Days Left

"Show me your arm, Mira."

Silas didn't ask. He grabbed my wrist, his fingers digging into the skin with a strength that reminded me exactly who owned my life right now. He yanked me forward, slamming me back against the cold stone of the infirmary wall. The impact knocked the air out of my lungs, but I didn't let him see me flinch.

"Get off me," I spat, twisting my arm. He didn't budge. He just pinned me there, his body a wall of heat and heavy leather, his face inches from mine. I could smell the iron and old smoke clinging to him.

"You're shaking," he murmured, his voice a low vibration that I felt in my own chest. "And you're pale. Even for a disgraced surgeon who lives in a basement. Tell me you didn't touch the thread in the last ward."

"I did my job, Silas. I saved the kid," I snapped. I tried to shove him back, but it was like pushing against a mountain. "If you want to play interrogator, do it with a chair and some shackles. Otherwise, let me work."

He didn't move.