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"Sit. Now. Before I decide your tongue is a luxury you can't afford anymore."
Lilith didn't shout. She didn't have to. The clicking of her heels against the grime-streaked floor of my safehouse sounded like a countdown. She leaned over the table, her perfume—something expensive, like crushed lilies and cold steel—filling the small room and choking out the smell of old takeout and desperation.
I didn't sit. I backed up until my shoulder hit the peeling wallpaper. "You're a long way from the high-rises, Lilith. What's the matter? Run out of secrets to sell?"
She smirked, a slow, predatory thing that didn't reach her eyes. She reached into her silk clutch and tossed a single, blackened card onto the table. It didn't slide; it hit the wood with a heavy, metallic thud that made the table vibrate.
"I don't sell secrets to people who are already dead, Kane. I sell them to people who are desperate enough to pretend they're still alive."
I looked at the card. My pulse hammered in my throat. The Void deck. I could feel the cold radiating off it, a low-frequency hum that vibrated in my teeth. I reached for it, but Lilith’s hand snapped out, her manicured nails digging into my wrist. Her grip was surprisingly strong, pinning me to the spot.
"Don't touch it yet," she whispered, leaning in. Her breath was warm against my ear, a sharp contrast to the freezing energy of the card. "Let's talk about your debt first. Silas doesn't like late payments, and you're practically bankrupt."
"I'm doing the jobs," I spat, trying to wrench my arm away. "I'm hunting the breakers. I'm playing the game."
"Playing?" Lilith laughed, a sharp, melodic sound that felt like a razor blade. She let go of my wrist, but only to slide her hand up to my chest, her palm resting right over my heart. I could feel the thin fabric of my shirt between us. She could probably feel my heart trying to kick its way out of my ribs. "You're not playing, Kane. You're being played. You think you're a Dealer? You think you're the one holding the cards?"
I frowned, stepping back. "That's the deal. I deal the cards, I collect the souls, I keep my own."
Lilith stepped closer, closing the gap until I could see the gold flecks in her iris. She looked at me with something that looked like pity, which was worse than hate. "That's the lie they tell the recruits. The beautiful, glittering lie that keeps you hunting in the gutters of the Neon District."
"What are you talking about?"
"Dealers aren't employees, Kane. They're investments." She circled me, her eyes scanning my worn-out boots and the tremor in my hands. "Do you really think Silas wants a middleman? Do you think he cares about your little commission?"
I felt a cold pit open in my stomach. "Then what is it?"
Lilith stopped behind me. I felt her fingers graze the back of my neck, a light, teasing touch that made the hairs on my arms stand up. "The Void doesn't create. It only consumes. Every soul you rip out of a breaker, every card you activate—you're not just paying your debt. You're refining yourself. You're becoming a vessel."
I turned around sharply. "A vessel for what?"
"For the Collector." She stepped back, her expression suddenly cold. "The Dealer is just the larval stage. Once you've collected enough, once your soul is sufficiently eroded by the Void... you don't get your life back. You just become another Silas. Another cold, empty thing that feeds on the desperate. You're not winning the game, Kane. You're just auditioning for the role of the monster."
I stared at her, the words sinking in like lead. "You're lying. You're just trying to shake me, make me dependent on your info."
"Believe what you want. But check your wrist."
I looked down. The black veins of the soul-mark were deeper today. They weren't just lines anymore; they looked like cracks in a porcelain vase. I tried to rub them, but the skin felt numb, like it didn't even belong to me anymore.
"I can help you," Lilith said, her voice dropping to a suggestive purr. She leaned against the table, crossing her legs. "I know where the Forbidden Cards are. The ones that can rewrite the contract. Not just delay the payment, but burn the ledger entirely."
I looked at her, really looked at her. She was a shark in a designer dress, but she was the only one offering a way out that didn't involve becoming a Void monster. "What's the price? Nothing is free with you."
"Simple. You find the Void Heart. The one rumored to be beating in the belly of the Neon District. You bring it to me, and I'll give you the card that breaks Silas's grip on your soul."
I opened my mouth to answer, to ask how the hell I was supposed to find a mythical heart in a city of ten million sinners, but the air in the room suddenly changed.
It didn't just get cold. It stopped.
The sound of the city—the distant sirens, the hum of the neon signs outside—vanished. The silence was absolute, heavy enough to crush my lungs.
*BOOM.*
My front door didn't just open; it ceased to exist. The wood splintered into a thousand jagged shards that flew across the room like shrapnel.
Silas stood in the doorway.
He wasn't wearing his usual suit. He looked like a shadow that had been poured into a human shape, his eyes two pits of absolute nothingness. He didn't walk into the room; he simply appeared in the center of it, the space around him warping like heat haze on a highway.
Lilith didn't scream. She didn't even flinch. She just stepped back, a small, knowing smile on her lips. "Right on time."
I didn't have time to think. I lunged for the blackened card on the table, but I was too slow.
In a blur of motion that my eyes couldn't even track, Silas was there.
His hand—cold as a deep-sea trench and hard as industrial diamond—clamped around my throat. He lifted me off the floor with one arm, slamming me back against the wall. The impact knocked the wind out of me, leaving me gasping for air that wouldn't come.
He leaned in, his face inches from mine. He didn't smell like anything. No breath, no sweat, just the scent of a vacuum.
"You've been talking to the Broker, Kane," Silas whispered, and the sound wasn't coming from his mouth—it was vibrating inside my own skull. "I don't recall giving you permission to seek a second opinion on your debt."
He tightened his grip. I could feel the cartilage in my neck beginning to groan. My vision started to blur at the edges, black spots dancing in the periphery.
"I... I..."
"Shh," Silas murmured, his thumb pressing into my carotid artery. "The time for talking is over. Let's see how much of your soul is actually left to salvage."
He didn't let go. Instead, he began to pull something out of my chest—not a physical object, but a shimmering, grey thread of light that screamed as it was dragged through my skin.