Page 29 of Shades of Silver City

He grins at me, scooping up his leather jacket and effortlessly slipping it on as he strides toward the door. “It is. Go home. Think about it.”

His knuckles rap out a quick rhythm on the door, and it creaks open. The Phantom nods at whoever’s on the other side, then gestures for me.

My feet are like cement blocks, refusing to move. “Aren’t you gonna bag me or something first?”

He gives me a quizzical look as he runs his fingers through his hair. “Bag you?”

“You know”—I gesture toward my face—“throw a black bag on my face so I can’t see your headquarters.”

When he laughs, it’s rich and hearty. “You mean hood? It’s a hood, not a bag. And no. These aren’t our headquarters. Just a connection of old tunnels beneath the city.”

“Oh,” I say lamely. “Okay then.”

“You have a healthy imagination.”

“Maybe you’re just a shitty gangster.” I shrug a shoulder.

He gives me a charming, amused smile, and my stomach twists. “Come on,” he says. “Let’s get you home so you can eat and think about my offer.”

Finally, my feet follow my brain’s instructions and begin moving.

“Oh, and don’t you have a boyfriend looking for you?” he asks.

My cheeks flush as he throws my words back at me.

“Yes. Reed,” I mutter.

Other than when I first woke up down here, I haven’t thought about Reed. And when the Phantom offered me that large sum of money, I definitely didn’t think about the future it could afford me and Reed.

Because we don’t have a future.

There’s no guilt, no sadness with that realization. It’s the brutal truth. We’ve remained with each other out of convenience—neither having a good enough reason to end things. Sometimes having someone is better than having no one, even though I’ve never fully let him in.

The Phantom leads me through the snaking tunnels, up a rickety set of stairs, and to another door. He opens it and steps aside, gesturing for me to pass. The soft glow of a streetlamp spills in, along with a blast of humid air.

Finally, an exit.

My shoulder brushes his chest as I step past him, and I jerk away. My eyes lock onto his jacket. He looks stupid wearing that in this heat.

Sexy, but stupid.

I shake the thought away.

“I’ll check in on you soon. See if you changed your mind.”

“Don’t bother,” I mutter.

“See you soon, Tasia,” he whispers with a chuckle.

As I step out into the swampy air of the street, the hum of a slumbering night greets me. I turn to ask the Phantom one last question. But only a ruddy, weathered brick wall stands behind me, no door—or man—in sight.

Blinking a few times in confusion, I reach out a hand and run it along the wall, searching for a seam or a knob. Within the textured ridges of the brick, I find no cracks or hinges indicative of an entrance.

Dread fills me.

That’s how they’ve evaded the Silver Scouts so long. They have magic. But how? The Phantom has a soul-shade. He’s human. He doesn’t have the brutal, ethereal beauty I’ve heard fae possess. He’s certainly attractive—but in an entirely human way.

Then again, I’m human and possess magic.

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