Chapter 12 · Debt Doubled

"You’re smiling, Kane. That’s a mistake," Silas said. He didn't move, but the air in the room suddenly felt like it had been sucked out by a vacuum.

I leaned back against the cold brick of the alleyway, trying to ignore the way my hand was shaking. The black mark on my wrist was pulsing, a rhythmic, sickening throb that felt like a second heartbeat. I’d just closed the deal. I’d paid the price. I should have been free, or at least breathing.

"I'm not smiling," I lied, my voice sounding like I'd swallowed a handful of gravel. "I'm relieved. There's a difference."

Silas stepped closer. He didn't walk; he glided, his tailored suit not showing a single crease despite the grime of the Neon District. He stopped inches from me. I could smell him—sandalwood and something metallic, like a fresh coin or a blood-stained blade. He reached out, his long fingers gripping my chin, forcing my head up. His skin was freezing, a stark contrast to the feverish heat of the mark on my arm.

"Relief is for the weak. For the people who think the house ever lets them walk away," Silas whispered. His eyes weren't human.