Page 145 of A Sin So Pure

“But you need to answer one question,” I cut him off. I stride to him, stopping when my face is inches from his, so that he cannot mistake how deadly serious I am. “Who else knows?”

His smile falls, leaving lips that quiver with pity.

“Nora, the only ones in Casimir whodon’tknow who you are traveled here with you.”

36

NORA

Ileave Bennie alive. I may regret that later.

The rage that burned in my gut no less than an hour ago is gone, replaced by a deep-rooted emptiness.

Everyone knows.

The Seelie eyes on me feel different now, searing on my skin as I pass through the party to leave. On the way, I snatch a deserted bottle of liquor from one of the high-tops. Then I pilfer a pack of cigarettes off a Seelie who thought it was an excellent idea to try to flirt withthe infamous soul-stealer.

I make it up to the seventh floor, taking a swig of liquor with every other step. It stings my throat, but the pain is good. And when the burn fades, the alcohol fills me with sweet numbness.

Everyone knows.

My mind is both eerily quiet yet entirely too loud; the static in my ears is overwhelming.

I pass the door where Imogen sleeps beyond—I can’t gather the courage to wake her in this state.

She said she wants me when I’m scared, but that’s a lie. She won’t want me when she learns the truth.

I stop in front of Josie’s door, but my hand pauses before I knock. Josie’s always cleaning up my messes.

She shouldn’t have to, but she does.

She knows the stakes—hasknown them ever since we were little and Pride made her sort through the trauma in my head. She’s kept my secret and never judged me for it, which is more than I could have ever asked.

I can’t ask her to catch me as I fall tonight.

Everyone knows.

My feet guide me from the seventh floor and up to the eighth, my body moving of its own accord. My mind is lost in itself until I’m jolted back into consciousness when my knuckles hit the door.

There’s a moment where I don’t think he’ll answer, that this was a mistake, and I should turn around and find somewhere to pass these big feelings alone. But the door swings open, Silas rubbing the sleep from his eyes. His white hair is in a state of rumpled chaos, and when he runs a hand through it, it does nothing to tame the mess. He leans against the door, opening it enough to stick half his frame out; he’s shirtless, only wearing long pajama pants, and my attention snags on the tattoo spread across his chest.

At the center sits a blackwork butterfly, framed by two birds that have their beaks aimed at it. The birds’ wings are spread open and crest down his pectorals and over his shoulders.

“Nora?”

“You have a butterfly tattoo,” I state.

His mouth parts, his tongue darting out to graze the bottom lip.

“Yes… I do,” he drawls. He leans forward, head swiveling to see the hall behind me is empty. “It’s the middle of the night.”

I take a deep breath and do one of my least favorite things in the world.

I ask for help.

“You said any time I needed escape, it would be there for me,” I say. “I’m calling that favor in.”

Silas stalls, his white-knuckled hand gripping the doorframe before he steps back, waving me in with a wide sweep of his arm.

---