Chapter Nineteen — Fascination
Chapter Thirteen — Silas Bracken
Avery’s pulse sharpened instantly.
Blaine didn’t move.
Didn’t blink.
But something dangerous slid visibly beneath his control.
Fear?
No.
Recognition.
The intercom crackled again.
“Oh, don’t make that face,” the voice purred. “You know I hate disappointing reunions.”
Avery looked toward the ceiling speakers instinctively.
“Who is that?”
Blaine answered without looking away from the dark stairwell above them.
“Silas Bracken.”
The name settled heavily into the room.
Then applause echoed slowly from upstairs.
Mocking.
Measured.
Avery’s skin crawled instantly.
“Well.” The voice sounded delighted now. “Still introducing me dramatically. That’s almost
sweet.”
Footsteps followed.
Unhurried.
Unlike Blaine’s controlled silence, these footsteps wanted to be heard.
The man descending the chapel stairs looked nothing like Avery expected.
Not armored.
Not brutal.
Beautiful.
Dark bronze curls fell loosely around sharp cheekbones while an elegant black coat hung
open over expensive charcoal layers beneath. Rings flashed silver against long fingers as he
trailed one hand lazily along the chapel railing descending toward them.
Smiling the entire time.
That smile terrified Avery immediately.
Because it looked sincere.
Silas Bracken reached the bottom stair and paused beside one of the bodies without even
glancing down at it.
Amber eyes lifted toward Avery first.
Interest sparked instantly.
“Well now,” he murmured softly. “You’re prettier than the rumors.”
Blaine stepped slightly in front of her.
Protective.
The movement happened so instinctively Avery almost missed it.
Silas noticed immediately.
His smile widened.
“Oh, this is bad.”
“Leave,” Blaine said coldly.
Silas ignored him completely.
Instead he studied Avery openly with unsettling fascination.
“The infamous poison girl.” His gaze drifted toward the journal bag at her hip. “And the
little book of ghosts.”
Avery stiffened instantly.
“You know about my journal too?”
“Darling, everyone important knows about your journal.”
The casual answer chilled her.
Silas finally glanced toward Blaine then.
“You didn’t tell her?”
Blaine’s jaw tightened dangerously.
“Not now.”
“Oh, definitely now.”
Silas stepped gracefully over blood on the floor like he’d spent his entire life walking
through violence elegantly.
Which considering Poison City he probably had.
“You really should explain things better, Blaine.” Silas sighed dramatically toward Avery.
“He has a terrible habit of withholding catastrophic information until the absolute worst
moment.”
“Silas.”
“There’s that tone.” His smile sharpened. “I missed you too.”
The atmosphere between them felt razor-thin suddenly.
History.
Ugly history.
Avery could feel it.
Silas finally stopped a few feet away.
Close enough for Avery to smell expensive smoke and something floral beneath the blood
in the chapel air.
Poison flowers.
Strange.
“Why are you here?” Blaine asked quietly.
Silas tilted his head slightly.
“To save your life, obviously.”
“No.”
“Yes.” The charming smile never faded. “The Theater is very upset with you.”
Avery’s stomach twisted.
“The Theater sent him after me too?”
Silas looked delighted by the question.
“Oh, no.” He glanced toward Blaine lazily. “They sent me after him.”
Silence.
Rain hammered the roof overhead.
Avery looked sharply toward Blaine.
He didn’t react.
Which somehow confirmed everything.
“The contract changed the second you spared her,” Silas continued lightly. “Now technically
you’re both liabilities.”
His amber eyes slid back toward Avery.
“But only one of you is interesting.”
Blaine moved instantly.
Knife at Silas’ throat before Avery fully registered motion.
The room snapped violently tense.
Silas didn’t even flinch.
God.
That might’ve been the most frightening thing Avery had seen all week.
“You’re upsetting her,” Silas murmured calmly beneath the blade.
“You talk too much.”
“And you brood too much.” His eyes flicked toward Avery again. “You see what I deal with?”
Avery stared at both of them in disbelief.
“You’re threatening each other like divorced parents.”
For one impossible second Silas burst out laughing.
Real laughter.
Warm.
Beautiful.
Even Blaine looked mildly offended.
“Oh,” Silas said through a grin, “I like her.”
“That’s unfortunate,” Blaine muttered.
Silas’ attention sharpened instantly at that response.
There.
Something changed.
Avery caught it immediately.
Interest.
Not in the situation.
In Blaine.
The amber-eyed assassin slowly smiled again.
Dangerously this time.
“Well,” he drawled softly, “that explains everything.”
Blaine lowered the knife eventually.
Barely.
Silas looked unbearably pleased about surviving.
“You know,” he murmured casually while adjusting his coat collar, “most people become
significantly less attractive when threatened.”
“You should leave,” Blaine repeated.
“And miss this?” Silas glanced toward Avery again. “Absolutely not.”
Avery already disliked him.
That was the problem.
He was too charming to trust.
Everything about Silas Bracken felt manufactured specifically to lower defenses — the
smile, the relaxed posture, the amused voice.
Predators in Poison City usually looked dangerous.
Silas looked safe.
That made him infinitely worse.
“You said the Theater wants Blaine dead now,” Avery said carefully.
“Technically.” Silas tilted his head. “They’d prefer I bring him back breathing first.”
Blaine’s expression flattened.
“Not happening.”
“Yes, I gathered that from the knife.”
Silas wandered slowly around the chapel floor as he spoke, stepping over bodies gracefully
while examining the room with obvious curiosity.
His gaze landed on the toxin cabinet.
Then the journal.
Then Avery.
Lingering.
Too lingering.
Avery crossed her arms tighter instinctively.
Silas noticed immediately.
“There it is.”
“There what is?”
“That look.” He smiled lazily. “Like you expect me to bite.”
“You look like you would enjoy it.”
To her horror Silas laughed again.
Blaine looked exhausted already.
“She’s funny,” Silas said lightly toward him.
“She’s traumatized.”
“People can be two things.”
Avery stared at the amber-eyed assassin while rain hammered the chapel overhead.
“What exactly do you want?”
Silas finally stopped moving.
The smile remained but softened slightly around the edges.
Interesting.
“I wanted to see if the stories were true.”
Fear sharpened quietly beneath her ribs.
“What stories?”
“The poison girl who keeps the dead alive in a journal.” His gaze drifted toward the leather
bag at her hip. “The contamination weapon who still mourns people.”
Weapon.
The word landed wrong every time.
Silas seemed to notice.
“Ah,” he murmured softly. “You still think you’re human enough to be hurt by language.”
Blaine moved instantly again.
Not violent this time.
Just one dangerous step forward.
“Enough.”
Silas’ expression flickered briefly.
There.
Another tiny shift.
Respect.
Or something close to it.
“You always get protective when you care,” Silas said quietly.
Avery looked sharply toward Blaine.
He ignored both of them.
“That’s why the Theater keeps losing you.”
The sentence settled heavily into the room.
Losing you.
Not first betrayal then.
Avery studied Blaine carefully beneath the flickering industrial lights.
The assassin refused to meet her eyes.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
Silas noticed her realization immediately and smiled.
“Oh, he didn’t tell you?”
“Tell me what?”
“That he used to be their favorite.”
Blaine’s jaw tightened hard enough Avery saw the muscle shift beneath skin.
Silas leaned lightly against one of the chapel pillars.
“The Black Vein Program produced a lot of unstable subjects.” His amber eyes drifted lazily
toward Blaine. “But him?”
The smile sharpened slightly.
“He survived everything.”
Something cold slid down Avery’s spine.
She looked at Blaine again.
Really looked.
The scars.
The restraint.
The terrifying calm around death.
Survived everything.
“What did they do to you?” she whispered.
Silence.
Then Blaine said flatly:
“Not now.”
Silas looked delighted.
“Oh, definitely now.”
Blaine’s silver eyes flashed dangerously.
Silas ignored it entirely.
“They trained him in the Theater underground.” His voice remained almost conversational.
“Sensory deprivation. Toxin conditioning. Neural resistance. Psychological restructuring.”
Avery’s stomach twisted.
Human weapon training.
Not rumor.
Not metaphor.
Real.
Silas’ gaze softened strangely while watching Blaine.
“They broke most people.” His voice lowered slightly. “He adapted.”
The chapel suddenly felt colder.
Avery realized something then.
Blaine never bragged.
Never dramatized.
Never sought sympathy.
He carried horror like it was ordinary.
That somehow made it feel worse.
Silas finally looked back toward Avery fully.
“That’s why your little immunity situation fascinates me.”
Fear sharpened instantly.
“What?”
“You touched him.”
The room went still.
Avery’s pulse stumbled.
Silas smiled slowly.
“And he didn’t react.”
Blaine’s expression darkened immediately.
“Silas.”
“No, I mean really.” His amber eyes gleamed now with open curiosity. “Do you understand
how impossible that is?”
Avery swallowed hard.
She didn’t.
Not fully.
Silas pushed away from the pillar and crossed closer slowly.
Not threatening.
Worse.
Interested.
“The poison responds to emotion, doesn’t it?” he asked softly.
Avery froze.
Too accurate.
Silas noticed instantly.
“Oh,” he murmured. “That’s fascinating.”
Blaine stepped directly between them.
Protective again.
The realization hit Avery hard this time.
Not strategy.
Not obligation.
Instinct.
Silas saw it too.
His smile faded slightly for the first time since arriving.
“There it is,” he said quietly.
Blaine’s voice turned deadly calm.
“Say what you came to say and leave.”
The amber-eyed assassin stared at him for one long second.
Then finally:
“The Theater already knows she matters to you now.”
Silence crashed through the chapel.
Rain.
Blood.
Breathing.
And suddenly Avery understood something horrifying:
Vinny died because he loved her.
Blaine might die for the exact same reason.