Page 74 of Salem’s Rise

I search his face for deception but only find anger, guilt, and something that looks too much like grief.

“You know, Josh told me about you,” Silas says. “He was always talking about his brilliant little sister, Jackie. Wouldn’t shut up about you.”

I blink. “What?”

“He said you were methodical. The disciplined one,” he says. “Said you could look at a problem for five minutes and find the flaw everyone else missed.”

A painful warmth spreads through my chest.

“Sounds like him exaggerating. He did that a lot.”

He smirks. “He also said you were stubborn, pathologically distrustful, and would rather die than admit you needed help.”

“Now that sounds more accurate.”

“I don’t know how this works. Maybe this is how all older brothers are with little sisters.” Silas gives a small shrug, but there’s an unexpected tenderness in his expression. “But you should know how highly he thought of you. Your brother loved you, Mercer. Very much.”

My vision blurs, and I blink back the sudden sting of tears, looking down before Silas can see. I know Josh loved me, but hearing it from someone else—especially someone like Silas—hits me in a way I wasn’t expecting.

“When you first arrived,” he continues, “I recognized you immediately from his pictures.”

“And you hated me on sight.”

A flash of irritation crosses his face. “No.”

I snort.

“Oh? So you’re just a cruel asshole to everyone, then?”

“What else was I supposed to do?” He throws up his hands, frustration cracking through his careful composure. “You were doing exactly what Josh did. Asking the same questions. Going to the same places. Refusing every warning because you believed intelligence made you invulnerable.” His voice sharpens, but the anger no longer feels aimed solely at me. It feels older. Directed backward, perhaps, toward my brother too. “I knew where it would lead. I thought if I made you fear this place enough, you would leave before the Veil noticed you.”

“Guess I’m too stubborn for my own good, huh?”

He looks at me then, really looks, and something almost sorrowful in his eyes unsettles me more than his hostility ever has.

“Yes,” he says. “Regrettably, I was not successful on either account.”

I am not sure what to say. It’s disturbing to see him this way, behaving like a man who actually has emotions.

A new thought occurs to me, and I wonder if I’ve finally uncovered the real reason he’s here. Not because he particularly cares about me—or even thinks that highly of my problem-solving skills—but because helping me might ease some of the guilt he seems to carry over Josh’s disappearance.

“Silas, why do you really want to partner with me?”

“I told you.”

“You told me I’m useful. That isn’t enough.”

His gaze drops briefly to my mouth, so quickly I might have imagined it. “Honestly… I’m not entirely sure,” he says with an exasperated shrug. “You are smart, that part is true, but you’re reckless.”

“I am,” I agree.

“You refuse to listen.”

“I do.”

“You wore that dress to the ball even after I explicitly told you not to attend,” he says, and my breath catches.

There’s a note of unmistakable satisfaction in his voice that makes me look at him more closely. And suddenly, it clicks. The beautiful black gown that appeared with no explanation. The one I assumed came from Rowan, but Rowan never actually admitted it was him.