Page 79 of Salem’s Rise

Then his hand settles at my hip.

His fingers tighten around the lower strap as he gives it another yank, but instead of letting go, he uses it to pull me even closer. My body comes flush against his, his hips pressed against mine as his hand trails slowly along my side. Heat sparks beneath his touch and races up my body. There’s a faint amusement in his eyes, and this time, I can’t help feeling like he knows exactly what he’s doing.

He lowers his face until his lips are only inches from mine, then slides two fingers beneath the strap at my hip as if to test the fit.

“Does that feel… okay?” he asks, his fingertips grazing my bare skin again.

“It’s fine,” I say, pushing him away and looking down to hide my flushed cheeks. “I can manage a buckle, you know.” My fingers tremble as I check the clips myself, confirming the harness is secure. The effect this man has on me is obscene.

“I’m sure you can,” he says. “I’m merely taking precautions. If you fall to your death, I’ll have to find another partner, and that sounds rather inconvenient.” Before I can protest, he steps into my space again, his tall frame looming over me as he checks each strap once more. “Keep in mind, the safety line will stop you from falling, but it won’t get you back onto the bridge. You’ll have to move quickly. If the main supports fail, you’ll go with it.”

“So it’s less a safety line and more a temporary delay of death?”

He considers this for a beat. “My best advice? Don’t fall in the first place.”

“Noted.”

Footsteps scrape behind us as Rowan and Georgina emerge from the trail, both breathing hard. Georgina’s ponytail has loosened, and one sleeve of Rowan’s coat is torn at the shoulder. Rowan’s gaze lands on Silas, who is standing in front of me with his hands still on my harness.

“Careful, Jack,” Rowan says, his blue eyes going flinty and small. “You may start thinking he actually wants you—instead of simply wanting something from you.”

“I’m trying not to get carried away,” I say dryly.

“Did he shower you with compliments? Tell you things like how ‘useful’ you are?” Rowan smiles without warmth. “That’s how Blackhollows operate. They start with flattery and then make obedience feel like partnership.”

Something cold opens beneath my ribs, because that is exactly what Silas said to me.

But how does Rowan know⁠—

“He did, didn’t he?” Rowan’s satisfaction is immediate. He sees the fracture and presses harder, clicking his tongue in mock disappointment. “How utterly unoriginal, Silas. I expected better. Thought you were smoother than that.”

Silas’s expression barely changes. “You would know a great deal about manipulation, Ashcroft.”

Rowan’s fists clench at his sides. He takes one step toward Silas, but Georgina catches his arm.

“Not here,” she warns.

The bridge groans, wind pouring through the ravine and lifting the loose ends of the ropes. Somewhere along the ridge, an iron bell rings again.

Silas doesn’t spare Rowan another glance. He looks only at me. “You can decide what my intentions are after we survive this night.”

It is not reassurance. It is not even an apology. But he says we, like we’re a team, and that matters. Maybe more than it should.

A competitor I recognize vaguely from one of my accounting classes rushes toward us. His name is Evan, or Ethan. I can’t recall which. I’ve never had much interaction with him, though I’ve seen him around campus with Van. That alone is reason enough to avoid him.

“Get out of the way,” he says, pushing me aside as he hastily slips on a harness and clips himself to the safety line. He rushes onto the bridge, which immediately dips beneath his weight.

The gust arrives an instant later and slams into the bridge broadside, twisting the structure violently. His clip races along the line as he falls sideways, and for one suspended second, he hangs over the ravine. Then the metal ring above him tears free, and he plunges into the dark abyss below, his screams echoing after him.

For several seconds, no one moves.

The swaying bridge has gone silent around us, every competitor staring at the place where the man from my accounting classes disappeared into the dark, endless ravine, plummeting to his death below. The wind continues to tear across the Old Watchtower as though nothing happened.

Silas looks at me. “Now do you understand my warning about the safety rope?”

I nod, swallowing against the horror rising in my throat.

Van arrives at the bridge with the tattooed man and deliberately drives his shoulder into mine as he moves to pass me, pushing me so hard my boot slips off the edge. My harness jerks and the ravine opens beneath me for one terrifying second before Silas grabs me around the waist and yanks me firm against his chest. Both arms lock around me, anchoring me securely against the solid length of his body as he pulls me back from the edge.