Chapter Twenty-Four — Teeth
Chapter Eighteen — Teeth
Blaine slammed Silas into the cathedral wall hard enough cracked stone shattered beneath
the impact.
The poison flowers scattered across the floor between them.
Silas laughed.
Actually laughed.
Even with Blaine’s knife pressed viciously beneath his jaw.
“There he is,” Silas murmured softly. “I was wondering when you’d finally stop pretending.”
“Shut up.”
The words came out low.
Dangerous.
Avery froze.
She had seen Blaine kill people.
Seen him threaten people.
But she had never seen him angry.
Not truly.
Now she understood the difference.
This wasn’t cold violence anymore.
This was restraint slipping.
Silas noticed too.
His amber eyes gleamed with something almost feverishly fascinated while Blaine pinned
him harder against the wall.
“You cared about the Moretti boy,” Silas observed quietly.
“Don’t.”
“Oh.” His smile sharpened. “That’s worse than I thought.”
Avery crossed toward them instinctively.
“Blaine.”
Neither man looked at her.
Wrong.
Very wrong.
The air between them felt razor-thin now.
History.
Violence.
Something uglier underneath both.
Silas tilted his head slightly against the stone despite the blade at his throat.
“You know what your problem is?” he asked softly.
Blaine’s knife pushed just enough to draw blood.
Silas barely reacted.
“You keep finding wounded things and convincing yourself you can save them.”
The words landed brutally.
Because they weren’t really about Avery anymore.
They were about Blaine.
About the nameless grave underground.
About Black Vein.
About all the ghosts standing silently between them.
Avery saw the exact second the statement hit.
Blaine’s expression didn’t change.
But his eyes did.
Silas saw it too.
And smiled.
“Still hurts?” he whispered.
“Silas.”
That tone again.
Deadly calm.
Avery stepped closer carefully.
“Blaine.”
This time he looked at her.
Just briefly.
But it was enough.
The fury in him loosened slightly the moment he saw her face.
Silas noticed that too.
Of course he did.
“Oh,” he breathed softly, almost delighted. “You’re already gone.”
Blaine released him violently.
Silas straightened slowly, adjusting his collar while blood slid in a thin line beneath his jaw.
Not afraid.
Never afraid.
That frightened Avery more every second.
“What do you want?” she asked quietly.
Silas’ attention shifted back to her instantly.
“There’s that look again.”
“What look?”
“Like you think people only stay near you when they want something.”
The accuracy of it felt invasive.
Avery crossed her arms tighter.
“You avoided my question.”
“Yes.” Silas smiled faintly. “Intentionally.”
Blaine stepped between them again.
“You need to leave.”
Silas sighed dramatically.
“You’re so territorial lately.”
The statement landed strangely in the room.
Avery looked away immediately.
Blaine ignored it completely.
Or tried to.
Silas noticed the attempt too.
His smile turned softer somehow.
Almost pitying.
Then the amber-eyed assassin reached slowly into his coat.
Blaine’s knife reappeared instantly.
Silas rolled his eyes.
“You’re exhausting.”
He withdrew a folded black envelope instead and tossed it lightly toward Avery.
She caught it automatically.
The paper felt expensive.
Heavy.
The Theater ivy symbol curled across the seal.
Fear sharpened instantly.
“What is this?”
“A gift.”
“That’s somehow more threatening than if you said bomb.”
Silas laughed softly.
“Open it.”
Avery hesitated before breaking the seal carefully.
Inside rested a single photograph.
Her stomach dropped.
Vinny.
Alive.
The picture showed him entering a private Moretti research facility less than forty-eight
hours before his death.
Blaine went completely still beside her.
Avery stared at the image while her pulse crashed violently against her ribs.
“He found the lab,” she whispered.
“Yes,” Silas said quietly.
The amusement vanished from his voice now.
“He accessed files he wasn’t supposed to see.”
Avery looked up sharply.
“You knew?”
“I know many things.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“No.” His amber eyes darkened slightly. “It’s a warning.”
The room fell silent.
Rain battered the ruined cathedral outside while funeral bells echoed faintly through
Poison City below.
Silas stepped toward the shattered window overlooking the Moretti funeral.
From here they could still see the silver coffin far beneath them surrounded by crowds and
cameras.
“Vincent Moretti wasn’t the first person to discover the Black Vein archives,” Silas said
quietly.
Cold slid down Avery’s spine.
“And the others?”
Silas looked over his shoulder.
Dead calm now.
No smile.
“They disappeared so thoroughly the city forgot they existed.”
Avery gripped the photograph tighter unconsciously.
Vinny smiling unknowingly at the edge of his own grave.
Something inside her hardened quietly.
Grief becoming anger.
Anger becoming purpose.
Blaine noticed immediately.
“Avery.”
Too late.
She looked back toward the funeral below where Luciano Moretti stood speaking beneath
cathedral lights like a grieving father instead of a man complicit in murder.
“I want to burn it down,” she whispered.
Silence.
Then unexpectedly—
Silas smiled.
Not amused this time.
Proud.
“There she is.”
The riots started before nightfall.
Poison City erupted beautifully.
Emergency sirens screamed across the skyline while Cathedral District burned silver and
green beneath rising smoke. Giant propaganda screens flickered between Vincent Moretti’s
funeral broadcast and violent containment warnings as crowds flooded the lower streets.
One dead heir.
That was all it took.
Avery watched the city unravel from the roof of an abandoned transit station while acid
rain hissed softly against rusted metal around them.
Below, civilians fought House enforcers near Breath distribution checkpoints.
Some screamed Vinny’s name.
Others screamed hers.
The Poison Girl.
Murderer.
Monster.
Martyr.
The city couldn’t decide what she was yet.
Silas sat lazily atop a broken ventilation unit nearby watching the chaos like theater.
Which considering him probably counted as a hobby.
“You know,” he mused softly, “this is the happiest I’ve seen the city in years.”
Avery stared at him in disbelief.
“People are dying.”
“Yes.” His amber eyes reflected burning lights below. “But for once they’re angry at the
right people.”
That wasn’t entirely wrong.
Which annoyed her.
Blaine remained near the roof entrance scanning surrounding buildings through optic
lenses.
Always working.
Always watching.
Avery noticed something then.
Silas watched Blaine almost as much as he watched her.
Interesting.
The amber-eyed assassin noticed her noticing and smiled slightly.
“You’re observant.”
“You’re weird.”
“That’s not mutually exclusive.”
Rain slid down dark curls across his forehead while distant explosions rattled Poison City
below.
Avery looked back toward the riots.
Somewhere out there people were dying in Vinny’s name.
The grief still hurt.
But now it burned sharper.
More focused.
“He would’ve hated this,” she whispered.
Blaine answered quietly without looking away from the city.
“Yes.”
Silas tilted his head slightly.
“No,” he murmured. “I think he would’ve hated the Houses more.”
Silence settled heavily between them.
Because that was probably true too.
Avery wrapped her coat tighter around herself against the cold rain.
Then:
“What happens if we release the files?”
Blaine lowered the optics finally.
“Civil war.”
Silas smiled faintly.
“Revolution,” he corrected.
“Thousands would die.”
“Thousands already die,” Silas replied calmly.
The words hit hard because nobody could argue them.
Poison City survived by sacrificing people slowly.
Breath shortages.
Containment zones.
Black Vein disappearances.
The system already fed on bodies.
Avery looked down at the streets far below.
Burning barricades reflected off rainwater like veins of fire through the city.
“How many experiments were there?” she asked quietly.
Blaine went silent.
Silas answered instead.
“Officially?” He leaned back against the ventilation unit. “A few hundred.”
Avery’s stomach tightened.
“And unofficially?”
The smile vanished from Silas’ face.
“Thousands.”
The number hollowed the air around them.
Avery physically stopped breathing for a second.
Thousands.
Children.
Weapons.
Ghosts buried beneath the city.
She suddenly understood why Blaine looked tired all the time.
Not exhausted.
Haunted.
Blaine finally crossed toward them through the rain.
“There’s movement.”
Instantly both Avery and Silas sharpened.
“What kind?” Silas asked.
“House tactical.”
Avery’s pulse spiked.
“They found us?”
“Not yet.”
Blaine crouched beside an old rooftop terminal and expanded surveillance maps across the
cracked screen.
Red markers flooded Cathedral District.
Containment sweeps.
Military movement.
Then Avery saw it.
One route highlighted black instead of red.
“What’s that?”
Blaine’s expression darkened.
“The morgue transport.”
Cold slid through her instantly.
Vinny.
“They’re moving his body,” she whispered.
“Yes.”
Silas straightened slowly.
Interest flashing sharp behind amber eyes.
“Well,” he murmured. “That’s suspicious.”
Avery looked sharply toward him.
“What does that mean?”
Silas’ smile returned.
Smaller now.
Sharper.
“House heirs aren’t usually relocated after public burial.”
Blaine already looked tense.
“Luciano’s hiding something.”
Fear sharpened beneath Avery’s ribs.
“Like what?”
Neither man answered immediately.
Then Silas said softly:
“What if Vincent Moretti saw something before he died they couldn’t risk existing after
death?”
Avery stared at him.
No.
No—
Blaine’s jaw tightened visibly.
“The autopsy.”
Understanding crashed violently through Avery all at once.
“The poison concentration,” she whispered. “The injection.”
Silas nodded slowly.
“If the body still carries evidence…”
The sentence hung unfinished.
Because they all understood now.
The Moretti’s weren’t protecting Vinny’s corpse.
They were erasing it.
Avery stood abruptly.
“We have to stop them.”
Blaine looked at her instantly.
“That convoy will be heavily guarded.”
“I don’t care.”
“Avery—”
“They killed him.”
The words cracked out sharper than intended.
Rain hammered harder around them while riots burned across Poison City below.
Avery’s breathing turned uneven.
“They turned him into propaganda and now they’re trying to erase the proof he mattered.”
Blaine stared at her for one long second.
Then quietly:
“You want to steal Vincent Moretti’s body.”
Silas looked absolutely delighted.
“Oh,” he purred softly. “Now this is romance.”