Page 108 of Meet Your Maker: Part One

Silas doesn’t turn immediately.Smart.He knows better than to make any sudden moves with a blade at his neck.

“Ah, the famous shadow cat arrives,” he drawls, tilting his head just enough to aim his words at Sunday. “I told you to come alone.”

She ignores the taunt, her jaw tight.

“Does he know? Does he know how you’ve trapped him?” He chuckles. “It’s a fair question, sweetheart. You see something rare, something powerful, and what—you just take it? Doesn’t matter what he wants, right?”

“Shut up, Silas,” Sunday snaps, but there’s a faint waver in her voice.

His smirk curls, dripping with condescension. “Oh, sure. That’s not how it works. The Omega jaguar is your mate.” He spits the word like poison. “Bet that’s real convenient for you. Snatch up someone who can walk through shadows.”

My grip on the blade tightens. The shadows flicker, but the rage that washes over me isn’t a flare—it’s a freeze. It settles in my veins like ice, sharp and crystalline. My breath slows, each inhale colder than the last.

When I speak, my voice is a lethal whisper.

“You don’t know a single fucking thing about me.”

“Bet she didn’t even ask. Did she?” Silas sneers, his tone taunting. “Just took you and added you to her private army of pussy-struck supes.”

“Absolutely, I am.” My voice is icy, and I press the blade closer. “Pussy whipped, struck, head over fucking heels. And touchingmypussy was a very, very bad idea.”

Silas stiffens under the blade, his body heating up.

“If you shift a single fucking claw, I’ll take your head off—and I’ll do it with a smile.”

He relaxes a fraction, his skin cooling. He’s angry, but not foolish. He doesn’t dare move. For a moment, the only sound is Sunday’s uneven breathing.

“She’s smarter than you think,” I say, my voice low and measured, each word precise as a scalpel. “And a hell of a lot more dangerous than you give her credit for. So why don’t you tell me why I shouldn’t end this right here? It might be a kindness for your dragon.”

His laugh is short, bitter. “Because you need me alive.” He tilts his head just enough to glance at Sunday. “Don’t you, sweetheart?”

She doesn’t respond. I don’t blame her—she’s still catching her breath, her hand rubbing the arm he grabbed like she’s trying to erase his touch. The betrayal in her eyes hits harder than I expect. I make a mental note to deal with that later.

Right now, my focus is on him.

“You’re out of chances,” I say, my grip on the blade tightening, my voice cold enough to cut.

Silas turns his head just enough to meet my eyes. The anger there is molten, barely contained.

“You think this is over?”

“It is for you,” I snap, pressing the blade closer.

But Sunday’s voice stops me cold.

“No. Wait.”

I glance at her, incredulous. “Sunday—”

“Just… don’t.” Her voice shakes, but it’s firm. “Not like this.”

It’s a plea wrapped in a command. My grip loosens, just enough for him to make his move.

The quake hits before I realize what’s happening, the ground trembling violently beneath us. Silas twists out of reach, faster than I expect. The shadows flicker and fade, my blade wavering as the tremors shake my focus. By the time I regain my footing, the doorway is closing behind him.

“Damn it!” The curse echoes in the now-still garage. I slam my fist into the wall, frustration boiling over before I wrestle it back.

Sunday leans against the opposite wall, pale, her breaths shallow. She looks at me, her voice barely a whisper.

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