Page 26 of Salem’s Rise

The guilt in his voice surprises me.

“I don’t hate you,” I say softly. “Maybe—” I’m still in the middle of my sentence when the doors to the Commons swing open and we nearly collide with Silas on his way out.

He’s infuriatingly handsome as always, all dark hair and sharp cheekbones. For the briefest instant, something almost bizarrely welcoming flashes across his face when he sees me. Or maybe I imagine it, because a second later, his expression is its usual mask of icy composure. His gaze shifts to Rowan, one dark eyebrow rising.

“Slumming it, Ashcroft?” he asks his friend.

Rowan sighs. “Leave it alone, Silas.”

Silas ignores him, his attention settling on me with unnerving intensity. “I see you’re still here.”

“You must be devastated,” I say. “I know how desperately you wanted me gone.” I lift my bandaged arm. “Still have the souvenir to prove it.”

I hold his gaze, letting the accusation hang between us, daring him to deny it. A flicker that looks almost like regret shadows his face before the walls slam back into place.

“It certainly is a shame about your roommate.” His voice drops, something darker creeping into it. “You had the perfect excuse to disappear back where you came from. You really should’ve taken it.”

I study him for a beat, caught off guard. The way he says it almost sounds like he had something to do with Eleanor’s death.

But no. That doesn’t make sense.

Silas might be an arrogant, kidnapping asshole, but that doesn’t mean he goes around actually murdering women, right?

I take a step back. “I wouldn’t call finding a dead girl in my dorm room ‘perfect.’”

“What’s the saying? Never look a gift horse in the mouth?” His lips quirk. “Or is it gift corpse?”

Anger and disgust flare hot inside my chest.

“You’re seriously fucked up,” I say. “You know that, right?”

“So I’ve been told.” He shrugs as though it doesn’t bother him in the slightest. Then his gaze flicks briefly toward Rowan again. “Stay away from Ashcroft, if you know what’s good for you. You don’t belong in his world.”

The words hit harder than they should. Not because I care what Silas Blackhollow thinks of me, but because some part of me knows exactly what he means. Scholarship student. Transfer. Outsider. People like me don’t belong with people like them.

Rowan’s jaw tightens. “I’ll decide who I want to spend time with, Silas.”

“Fine.” Something dangerous flashes in Silas’s dark eyes. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you both.” He brushes past us and crosses campus with a rigid, controlled stride.

Rowan watches him go, a flicker of unease passing over his face. “He’s an asshole,” he says. “Just ignore him.”

“Easy for you to say. You’re not the one he seems to hate.”

“Don’t worry.” He leans in closer and gives me a shamelessly flirtatious look. “I’ll protect you from him.”

“I can protect myself, but thanks for the offer,” I say, leaving Rowan at the entrance of the Commons, his charming smile faltering just slightly as I head inside to grab my dinner alone.

Moments later, I emerge with a turkey sandwich and a bag of chips and make my way back to Wintermere Hall. Halfway across the courtyard, movement catches my eye as a sleek black cat steps silently out into the lighted pathway. Golden eyes watch me carefully. I realize with a start that it’s the same cat I ran into outside the Ashcroft Library.

“Well, hello there, old friend.” A smile tugs at my lips. “We meet again.”

The cat walks straight toward me with the confidence of someone who owns the campus. I crouch and he rubs against my hand with a loud purr.

“I know you’re a black cat and all, but I really hope you aren’t bad luck. No kidnapping this time as soon as you leave, all right?”

As soon as I say it, I have the weirdest thought.

It was almost like the cat was trying to lead me away from the library that night. As if he knew something bad was about to happen and was trying to warn me. As if the cat⁠—