Chapter 16 · Death's Kiss at the Ball

"Miss me, Alice?"

That voice hit me like a bucket of ice water. Caine didn't just walk in—he owned the air the second he stepped through the door. Same tailored suit. Same smug, curated smile. Those eyes still looked at me like I was a bug he was deciding whether to crush or keep in a jar.

I couldn't move. My back was pinned against the mahogany desk. Silas was right there, his chest barely an inch from mine. I could feel the heat radiating off him, the sharp scent of sandalwood and something metallic. Blood. Old coins. Danger.

"You're late for the party, Caine," Silas rumbled.

He didn't pull away. If anything, he shifted. His arm brushed mine, marking his territory without saying a word.

Caine chuckled. It was a dry, dead sound. "I had to make a few stops. Cleaning up the mess Alice left behind takes time, doesn't it?"

He stepped closer. Boots clicking on marble.

"Seeing you two together... it's almost poetic," Caine said. "The High Inquisitor and the city's favorite monster. Quite the pair."

"I'm not a monster, Caine." My voice was sharper than I expected. "Just a mirror. I'm reflecting what you taught me."