SILAS

Convincing my mother to wait felt like trying to move a mountain with a spoon. Futile. Exhausting. And increasingly humiliating.

"I promise I'll bring him here. He's just... not ready yet," I said, my fingers curling into a tight fist on my lap, nails biting into my palm.

Vivienne arched an elegant brow, her arms crossed as she leaned back. The room was silent except for the soft rustle of her silk sleeves. Her gaze—sharp and piercing—settled on me, making my skin crawl. "I'm not a patient woman, Silas," she said, her voice calm but edged with warning.

A groan escaped my lips before I could stop it, and I slumped back in the chair. My ethics teacher would've been horrified to see me behaving like this in front of her. But I didn't care. Not anymore. I was running out of patience with this game of push and pull between us.

"I mean it! Tomorrow, I'll do it. I'll bring him here," I said, my tone straining under the weight of frustration. The words came out more as a growl than a promise, but Vivienne only smirked in response.

"Make sure you do," she said simply, her smirk widening ever so slightly, as if she already knew how this would end.

***

"Tomorrow? Already?" Sebastian's voice rose, almost to a scream, the sharp edge of it slicing through the tense air between us. I cringed at the sound, guilt churning in my stomach like a storm as I pressed a hand to my face. Forcing him into this wasn't fair—he'd made that clear before.

"Silas, you said it would be my choice when we'd face her," he accused, his voice trembling, his pale complexion somehow growing even paler—like a sheet bleached ten times over. He staggered back into his chair, his legs giving out beneath him, and stared blankly at the floor. For a vampire, who already looked like death incarnate, he now resembled something far worse: a man unanchored, adrift in sheer panic.

"This is bad. I'm not ready," he muttered, his hand rising to clutch at his chest. "I'm really, really not ready."

I watched helplessly as his breathing quickened, the sound uneven and shallow, his chest heaving as though he were suffocating. Sweat slicked his forehead, which was unusual—vampires didn't sweat. His trembling fingers pressed harder against his chest, and his face twisted with an expression so raw, so utterly human, it made my own heart ache.

"Hey, hey," I said softly, reaching out to him. "Relax. She's not going to do anything to you—not with me around." I slid onto the chair beside him and placed a firm hand on his shoulder, trying to steady him.

But it didn't help.

Calling Sebastian scared was an understatement. He wasn't just scared—he was terrified, his eyes wide and unfocused, his face drained of all color. I'd seen this kind of fear before, in the eyes of prey when they realized there was no way out, no escape from the predator that had them cornered.

"Sebastian. Look at me." My voice was firm, but not unkind. I reached for his hand, the one trembling against his chest, and clasped it tightly. He flinched at first but then slowly, hesitantly, his gaze shifted to meet mine.

"Breathe," I urged, even though I knew vampires didn't need to breathe. It was more for his mind than his body. "Just breathe. You're okay. You're safe."

His breaths were erratic at first, shallow and fast, but then—gradually—they began to even out. The shaking in his hands stilled, and the tension in his shoulders eased. His face, once ashen and grim, regained a faint hint of color.

"Thank the divine," I murmured under my breath, relief washing over me.

Sebastian blinked a few times, his expression finally clearing. "Are you all right now?" I asked, though the guilt in my voice was unmistakable.

"Yeah…" He glanced down at our joined hands, his lips twitching into something like a wry smile. "You can stop holding my hand now."

I let go immediately, pulling back as if burned. "Sorry."

For a moment, he stared at his hand, as though he couldn't quite believe I'd been holding it. Then he looked back at me, his expression softening into something almost sheepish. "Sorry about that. I tend to… freak out when I'm nervous." He let out a shaky laugh and rubbed the back of his neck. "Jeez, that was embarrassing. God." He buried his face in his hands, his voice muffled as he groaned.

I patted his back gently, unsure of what else to do. "It's not embarrassing. This… this is a lot to take in. I get it."

And I did. I understood his fear all too well. He was stepping into a world he didn't know, one that could swallow him whole if he wasn't careful. If I were in his position, forced into something this monumental, I'd be terrified too.

But still, this was my fault.

It always was.

No matter how much I tried to help, things always seemed to go wrong. It was like some cosmic joke at my expense, one I couldn't escape.

Just like Rose—

I shook my head sharply, as if I could banish the thought. Dwelling on the past was useless.

Sebastian shifted beside me, flicking his hood down—a rare sight. I blinked, taken aback. I'd never really seen his hair before; he always kept it hidden beneath that hood. It was longer than I'd expected, the strands falling just past his nape in a soft, almost fluffy cascade. It framed his face in a way that made him look younger, more vulnerable.

He ran a hand through it, pushing the strands back as he exhaled deeply.

I watched him breathe. It fascinated me, honestly—vampires didn't need to breathe, yet he still did, as if it were a habit he couldn't shake.

When he opened his eyes again, the pupils were sharp and slit-like. He straightened his posture, his face set with determination.

"Okay," he said, his voice steadier now. "I'm ready."

I smiled faintly, though the weight of guilt still pressed down on me. "This isn't just about facing her, Sebastian. It's about making sure no one will ever bother you again. If it's not my mother, it'll be someone else. The world isn't kind to vampires, especially ones like you." I clasped my hands together, my tone softening. "You're lucky I found you first."

Sebastian nodded, though his hesitation was clear. "Do you… do you know what she's going to ask of me?"

I shook my head. "It's hard to say. But if I know her, she'll test your self-control. That's her way. It'll be brutal." I hesitated, then added, "Listen, this might be cheating, but drink some blood tonight. A lot of it. If she amps up the test, you'll need it."

I reached into my bag and pulled out a large black jug, handing it to him. His eyes widened as he took it, shaking it slightly. The liquid inside sloshed thickly.

"Is this all blood?" he asked, incredulous. "Jesus, Silas. Are you sure the donor isn't dead?"

I stifled a laugh as he twisted the cap off, the scent of blood immediately permeating the air. His eyes glazed over, his tongue darting out to lick his lips.

"Can I really drink all of this?" he asked, his voice apologetic, though his expression betrayed him. He looked like a man dying of thirst, desperate for relief.

"Of course," I said, chuckling softly. "You need it more than I do."

He didn't wait for further permission. Lifting the jug, he tipped it back, gulping down the thick, dark liquid with an almost primal hunger.

I watched, fascinated. "I've always wondered," I said, leaning forward slightly, "what blood tastes like to vampires."

Sebastian paused mid-drink, lowering the jug slightly. He looked at me, his expression blank.

"Good question," he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "I don't know."

I blinked. "What?"

He shrugged, looking genuinely perplexed. "I don't know," he repeated.

"You don't know," I echoed, raising an eyebrow.

***

Shira didn't look surprised when I broke the news to her. Instead, she sighed, crossed her arms, and leaned against the edge of the desk like she'd been expecting it all along.

"Seriously? First Sebastian, now you? What am I supposed to do with the two of you?" she said, her tone sharp but not entirely unkind.

I sank into the worn-out sofa with a groan, the weight of the day pressing down on my shoulders. "If we finish this quickly, it means he'll be safe from other mages. He can live the rest of his life quietly. Vampires are immortal, Shira. You know as well as I do that he couldn't stay hidden forever."

Her brow furrowed, her skepticism as plain as day. "So. Let me get this straight," she said, her voice laced with doubt. "Your payment to him—the guy who, in case you forgot, hasn't helped us one bit in finding Minerva—is granting him protection?"

I met her questioning gaze and nodded. "It's the least I can do," I replied. "I'm not going to be around forever to protect him. This…this is a way to make sure he survives."

Shira folded her arms tighter, her expression unreadable. I could see the gears turning in her head, weighing my logic against her skepticism. But I didn't wait for her to respond. My eyes drifted to the coffee table in front of me, where a stack of papers lay neatly arranged. I reached out and picked them up, flipping through the pages.

"Oh? Is this my homework for today?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. The usual suspects greeted me—math, English, even some Spanish. Nothing too difficult, nothing I couldn't finish tomorrow. Once we were done with my mother, that is. Hopefully, that wouldn't take more than an hour.

"Did you go to school to get this?" I asked, glancing at her. But Shira avoided my gaze, her silence just as telling as any answer.

She hesitated for a beat before finally muttering, "Sebastian brought it over earlier."

I froze mid-page turn, narrowing my eyes at her. "Sebastian? Did you at least say thank you?"

Her lips pressed into a thin line, and she didn't answer. Classic Shira.

I sighed, shaking my head. "You're impossible. I thought you'd have softened up to him by now. You're so rude, I swear." I tossed the stack of papers onto the coffee table and turned to her fully. "At the very least, did you give him something to drink? I've got juice boxes in the fridge, you know."

Her glare was swift and sharp, like a dagger aimed right at me. "You're spoiling him too much. He doesn't need anything. And he's already said he doesn't have to drink blood."

I met her glare head-on, crossing my arms and puffing out my cheeks in mock defiance. "That doesn't mean you can't show a little basic courtesy."

"Stop spoiling him," she shot back, jabbing a finger in my direction.

I rolled my eyes. 

Shira's glare darkened, but she chose to ignore my jab. Instead, she straightened up and smoothed her shirt, her expression suddenly serious. "Listen," she said, her voice softer now. "Good luck tomorrow. If something goes wrong, don't hesitate to call me."

Her concern caught me off guard, and I couldn't help but grin. "So, you do like him," I teased, leaning forward.

Her eyes narrowed into slits, a warning clear as day. "Don't push it."