Chapter 15 · First Steal: The Sacrifice

"Don't move. Not a single inch."

Silas's voice vibrated against my skin. His hand was a vice around my wrist, pinning me hard against the mahogany desk. The air between us felt thick—not romantic, but predatory. Like he was deciding exactly where to bite first.

He wasn't looking at my eyes. He was staring at the pale curve of my neck, nostrils flaring.

"What is that?" he whispered. "That smell. Like a grave opened up right next to you."

I wrenched my arm. He didn't budge. Only tightened. The pressure was bruising—a reminder that he could snap my bone if he felt like it.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Silas. Get off me."

"Liar." He leaned in, lips almost brushing my ear. Heat radiated off him, clashing with the icy chill crawling up my spine. "You've been touching something—or someone—that shouldn't exist. Who was in here with you?"

I swallowed hard. Julian. The ghost of the man I’d just 'disposed of' via the system's twisted logic. The scent of decay wasn't real—it was residue. A mark left by the theft.

"No one," I spat. "Maybe you're just smelling the rot of your own obsession."

Silas chuckled.