Page 23 of The Threads Between

“The demonstration,” I said instead.

“Good. Because we need to discuss the particulars.” He moved to the window, standing beside me as though we were simply two men admiring the view. “The Weaver has been acquired. A woman they found hiding in Southwark.”

He said it so casually. Like he was discussing dinner plans.

“You’ll unravel her completely,” he continued. “Before three hundred witnesses—Parliament members, society figures, foreign dignitaries. A demonstration of what proper control can achieve.”

His gaze lifted to meet mine in the glass.

“And should there be additional Weavers present, you will locate and erase them as well.”

The pendant answered before I could.

“Yes,” I heard myself say.

“Excellent.” Elias stepped closer and reached for my collar. I did not flinch. Could not. His fingers adjusted my tie with meticulous care, smoothing the lapel. The gesture was so ordinary, so mundanely paternal, that it made something twist in my chest.

“Look at you. Calm. Compliant. Finally useful.”

A desperate protest stirred beneath the numbness.

I’m not calm. I’m disappearing.

But the words remained locked inside my throat.

Elias stepped back, surveying me with quiet satisfaction.

“Constance and her family will attend,” he added. “Front row. It is important they understand precisely what you are capable of.”

He turned toward the door, then stopped—a second longer than he should have.

“The Sterlings appreciate strength,” he said without looking back. “Seeing you perform will dispel any lingering romantic notions about your nature.”

His gaze flicked to the pendant and held there. A muscle moved in his jaw. Then he turned away.

“You will come to appreciate it as well.”

The door closed behind him.

I stood there in the empty room, the fog outside pressing against the windows like it was trying to get in, and I waited for the horror, the revulsion, the desperation.

A woman from Southwark, late forties, unremarkable. I’d erase her in ten days. Stand on a stage and erase her from existence while London’s elite applauded.

Nothing came.

And that absence was the most frightening thing of all.

I moved to the mirror above the chest of drawers, forcing myself to look. The face staring back didn’t feel like mine. Hadn’t for weeks. Hollow cheeks, skin too pale, as though the blood had retreated from the surface. Dark shadows beneath the eyes like bruises that would never heal.

The pendant hung at my chest, glass catching the weak light. Beautiful, in the way venomous things often are.

Then I caught the eyes.

They weren't mine. They were his—the thing the pendant was building in my place. Waiting to finish what it had started.

Where did I go?

Before I knew it, I would be standing on that stage. Erasing someone who'd done nothing except be born with magic in her blood. Erasing her while Constance watched. While Parliament applauded. While Elias proved to London that monsters could be tamed if you just knew where to put the leash.