Chapter 6 · Scrap Flip

"You’re shaking, Silas. It’s distracting," Kaela whispered.

Her blade didn't just touch my skin—it bit. One wrong twitch and I’d be painting the gold-leaf floor of Varric’s vault with my own throat.

Varric didn't even stand up. He sat on his mahogany throne, swirling a glass of amber liquid that probably cost more than my father’s entire estate. He looked at us like we were two stray dogs fighting over a bone.

"Now, now," Varric purred. "Kaela, dear, don't kill the boy yet. He’s the only one who can open that book. I’d hate to pry it from a corpse—too much blood on the pages."

Kaela didn't move the knife. She leaned in, her breath hot against my ear. I could smell ozone and old leather. "Tell me what you bought," she hissed. "The Ledger didn't just move us. You traded something. What was it?"

I couldn't breathe. My mind felt like a library after a hurricane—half the shelves were gone and I couldn't remember where the books went.

"I... I don't know," I choked out. "It just happened."

"Liar." She pressed the blade harder. "You’re a Quinn. You’re bred to lie.