Chapter 26 · The Inquisitor's Deal

"Don't move. Not a muscle."

Silas didn't just step toward me; he invaded. His heavy boots clicked against the marble, closing the gap until I could smell ozone and expensive leather. The air between us vibrated.

I didn't move. Couldn't. Adrenaline was still screaming through my veins, and my boot was still planted firmly on the throat of the dead man beneath me.

I looked up. I gave him a slow, jagged smirk. My dress was ruined, soaked in blood that wasn't mine. I probably looked like a nightmare crawled out of a fever dream.

"You're late to the party, Silas," I spat. Iron tasted like pennies on my tongue. "I already did the cleaning. You can thank me later."

He didn't laugh. He didn't even blink.

His hand shot out. Fingers locked around my wrist like a steel shackle. He jerked me forward, ripping me off the corpse and slamming my back into a pillar.

*Oof.*

The wind left me in one sharp burst. I refused to flinch. He was too close—so close I could feel the heat radiating off his chest.