Page 50 of A Sin So Pure

“Are you still breathing?”

When my eyes darken in their glare, he laughs—but I know by the glint in his obsidian eyes that the threat behind his humor is very much real.

“I’m glad you called me rather than doing something rash on your own. Wrath owes me fifty dollars—he thought you’d kill them right away.Ifigured you were smarter than that when it came to Faerie’s other half.”

Doesn’t mean I won’t still kill them.

I stand, stepping around the desk to reclaim my vacated chair. His hawkish eyes follow me as I sit. The leather is still warm and malleable from his body heat. I jerk open the bottom right drawer, pulling my revolver from its home along with its cleaning kit.

It’s infuriating, the way this man is one step ahead of me.

I empty the cylinders; the bullets laced with iron clink like wind chimes as they hit the desk. Then, I set into my nightly routine, cleaning the barrel and cylinders with a bristle brush and cloth that I dip into solvent. My nose tickles as the stench of the cleaning solution fills the air. I should have the window open while I do this, but I need to still the sudden frantic beating of my heart and routine is the easiest way.

Today has been trying. The past twoweekshave been trying.

Slowly, I regain my composure.

I move onto polishing, making the metal shine under my fingertips. Silas’s eyes narrow on the movement, but he doesn’t comment on it. He waits. Minutes pass, and he is silent as I work.

“You speak as if you know me, yet you claimed confusion not ten minutes ago,” I finally say.

“I gather data and make assumptions,” he says. “I believe we share a lot of the same values, which makes me think you’d handle the situation similar to me. But sharing qualities does not equate toknowing.”

“And what is it you think we share? The King and a Sin. I’d say they’re quite different,” I say. I keep my eyes on Silas as I reload the gun.

“Loyalty to our people. A sense of responsibility and the desire to protect. To shield them from the worser fates out there.” Silas says this casually, as if he’s ticking boxes on a list. “It’s why you killed Pride.”

My fingers pause on the barrel as it clicks back into place. I bite the inside of my cheek and set the gun down.

“I don’t see how?—”

“Let’s be clear, he was a pain, and I was happy to see him go.” He waves his hand in the air as if it’s common knowledge. “You didn’t kill Pride because you wanted power. You replaced him because you wanted to protect your family, and that’s the only way you knew how.”

My head starts to shake before he even ends his theory.

“You’re wrong.”

“Am I?” Genuine curiosity tints his voice, sensing the truth within my words.

“They’re one and the same to me. Power is protection.”

“And I’d say they’re opposites. One is rooted in selfish greed and the other rooted in selfless love.”

“Love, at its core, is selfish.”

Silas hums. “Maybe. But you would have to be in love to know for sure.”

He saunters as he closes the distance between us. When his knees are inches from mine, he plucks my gun from the desk.Inspecting it, he rolls the cylinder, clicks it back into place, and points the gun at me.

My breathing stops as I stare down the barrel.

Then he twirls it—so fast the metal is a silver blur in the air—and the handle is facing me. I’m quick to try to pull it from his hand, but he holds onto it with a viselike grip.

Silas leans forward, anchoring one hand on the desk chair as he peers down the sharp slope of his nose. He studies me as I’ve studied him; both of us carefully logging the tightness of our jaws and the way our lips twitch in the silent stare off.

His pupils dilate. His sigh is a breeze on my lashes.

“Send me the details for tomorrow,” he says. “I look forward to seeing you in action.”

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