Page 28 of Slayer

I track him with my eyes, his slow, deliberate pacing grating my nerves. He truly believes he’s untouchable, that he’s going to live through the night.

“You let feelings get in the way of a job,” he snaps, the amusement draining from his voice. “Something that goes against everything I trained you for.” He stops and turns to face me. “What have you become?” The silence stretches. “Weak.” He spits the word with the same precision he once used when he thought he could still break me.

Something inside my chest goes cold. “You lost me the moment you tricked me into slaughtering those innocent boys and men,” I say quietly. “That was the day I stopped being yours.” My gaze hardens. “You’re a devil disguised as a man.”

Silas smiles, slow, satisfied, rotten to the core.

“I may be a devil,” he says, “but you wouldn’t be half the woman you are without me.” The words hang between us, heavy with history.

That smile, that smug, unshakable certainty, burns straight through me. And the worst part is, he isn’t entirely wrong. He owns a part of me. After what he took from my body—out of my body—after what he forced me to give up, there are things I can never reclaim. Pieces of myself carved away in the name of obedience and control. Things that leave me feeling less than whole.

I open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out.

“Speechless?” Silas murmurs, delight curling through the word. He lets the silence stretch, savoring it like a victory.

Then he smiles wider. “Now, darling,” he taunts, “what was your grand plan for killing me tonight?” He begins to pace again, slow and theatrical. “Storm into my academy, kill a slayer or two, climb your way up the tower, and toss me out the window?”

He chuckles. “Really, Neressa? That was it?” His gaze sharpens. “You haven’t just grown weak. You’ve grown sloppy. Worst of all, darling, you've become predictable.”

I laugh. It slips out soft and sardonic, a sound stripped of humor and full of promise.

“You don’t give me enough credit,” I say. “Knowing what I now know about your bloodline, no one will ever respect you again.” I lift my chin. “This is my island. You’ll be hunted once they all know.” His smile falters for just a breath. No matter how skilled he may be at feigning dominance, I can tell he’s wavering. He knows I’m right.

“Everyone will come for you,” I continue calmly. “Kings. Monsters. Ghosts. Pirates.” I tilt my head. “If you even make it through tonight, that is.” I cross my arms with slow, practiced ease.

I turn to step closer to the fire, leaning back against the hearth and letting the flames wash warmth over my skin. “One more thing,” I say lightly. “All of your slayers will be answering to me in your absence.”

Silas stiffens. “Do you know which slayer I killed tonight on my way up here?” His gaze lifts slowly from the fire, locking onto mine. I lower my hood, allowing the moonlight to cast over my expression. I want him to see the look on my face when I tell him.

“Now who’s speechless?” I murmur. I reach for the fire poker, stirring the ashes, the embers flaring as I speak again. “I didn’t know you had a son,” I add. “But he was so cocky, and those icy blue eyes…”

I glance back at him, shaking my head in mock disbelief.

“I figured he had to be yours.”

Silas’s jaw ticks, the only tell that gives him away.

I laugh softly and set the poker aside. “He wasn’t trained very well,” I say. “Considering he knew who I was and still thought it wise to speak to me. To challenge me.” A slow smile curves my mouth. “Poor parenting.” I hold his gaze, steady, cold, unflinching.

“Such a pity, love. It seems we’ve both lost someone we cared about tonight.” I shrug. His eyes darken as they follow my every movement now, no longer amused, only calculating.

Good.

I step closer, lowering my voice. “Now… where were we?” I clear my throat. “You were calling me weak, sloppy, predictable? But you didn't know your own son was dead?” My eyes narrow and my hand drops to the hilt of Maddoc’s sword. This is as much his moment as it is mine. He deserves this kill just as much as I do. I curl my fingers around the grip. “Would you like to keep going,” I ask softly, “or are you ready to die?”

Silas turns away from me, toward the window, and looks up at the cloudy night as if I’m nothing more than a passing breeze. Not a flicker of fear. For a moment, doubt coils in my chest. Did he ever care about his son at all? Or have I broken him? What other secrets is he hiding?

“You know, darling,” he says mildly, eyes still fixed on the storm, “I’m the one who keeps you safe from the royals.”

He tilts his head, playing the last card of his deck, manipulation. “They could take Magda in a blink. Burn it to the ground. The only thing stopping them is me—keeping this island balanced, running this academy.”

I almost smile. I’ve always loved when he tries to manipulate me. It’s the telltale sign he’s running out of moves. “Something tells me,” I say coolly, “that the king doesn’t give a damn about anyone. Not even his own blood.” I remember his nonchalance when I pinned his youngest with my dagger. I take another step closer. “So what makes you so valuable to him?”

Silas turns fully now. A crescent moon smile spreads slowly across his face, too pleased, too knowing. “Hmm,” he hums, eyes glimmering. “Asking the right questions at last. Very smart, Neressa.”

He’s trying to belittle me. Shrink me. “Humor me,” I snap.

“It isn’t what I have,” he says slowly, deliberately, “it’s who I have.” The way his eyes drag over me, like I’m an object being appraised, turns my stomach. Cold seeps into my bones. Who he has.