Page 68 of A Sin So Pure

“What do you mean,being watched?” Imogen snaps, eyes wide. “You just killed someone.”

I sigh. Imogen knows what I’ve done—had to do—but it’s much easier to hear about it and rationalize my actions than to see them in person. While Imogen’s not squeaky-clean, her sins are far different from mine. House Lust may be full of spies—they may bribe or blackmail Royals—but they don’t deal with the true, brutal nature of our kind.

Lust doesn’t deal in death. But House Pride and House Wrath do. So does the Unseelie King.

Maybe I should have had Josie take her away before I pulled the gun out.

“He was Seelie,” I say, even and steady. “The man I told you about before?” Imogen nods, jaw tight. “He was with him. So, trust in my judgment that heneededto die.”

Though Josie stays quiet during our exchange, her lips twist, betraying her judgmental thoughts—she knows I didn’thaveto kill him.

I just didn’t want Imogen to hear what he had to say.

“Everything is fine, but we do need to leave, okay?” I say.

“Yeah,” Imogen says, straightening her spine. “I’ve never seen someone die before.”

“First time for everything, yeah?” I whisper, but the joke doesn’t land. I press a kiss to her cheek and turn to Josie. “Get her and the others home. I need to pay Silas a visit.”

18

NORA

Silas’s office is eerily clean.

Not a speck of dust lines the bookshelves, and each piece of decor is perfectly curated to fit the moody aesthetic; the black walls and dark wood furniture certainly help with that too.

I sink into his desk chair, fingers drumming mindlessly against the arm. The taps are dull, the leather of my gloves muting the sound.

I’m honestly surprised his staff let me in here alone, but based on the lack of papers—or even a pen—this space isn’t often used.

The door finally opens, and Silas enters.

His steps falter when he notices where I’m sitting. A huff of laughter escapes him as the door creaks shut.

“Pride. Nice of you to stop by,” Silas says. He leans back against the door, shoving his hands in his suit pockets. He’s forgone the suit jacket today, only wearing a fitted gray vest over a striped dress shirt and slacks. “Though I do recall already scheduling a follow-up to discuss what happened the other night…”

His eyes rake over me, narrowing when they land on my serious expression.

“What happened?” he asks.

“Patience got pissed we played with his toys. Then he torched my warehouse, and my supplier got caught in the crossfire.” I smile, but it isn’t sweet. It’s that of a wolf. “So, I figured it prudent to inform you.”

Silas’s lips part on ano.

“That’s an unfortunate turn of events. And so soon,” he says, slowly.

“Yes. Unfortunate. That’s a good way to describe it.”

“Did anyone?—”

“Die?” I finish for him, brows hopping to my hairline. “Not from our side, luckily. Your Royal buddies will be out of their favorite imported champagne for a while, though.”

Silas stalks across the room, coming to a stop in front of his desk; he leans forward, both hands spreading across the ebony wood.

A moment of silence passes between us.

I’m the one who breaks it.

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