The white chemical fire of the signaling flare hung in the frozen sky like a dying star, turning the falling sleet into a curtain of spinning silver needles. Beneath my feet, the rotting timber planks of the Saint Vincent’s private pier groaned under the immense weight of the freezing tide, the black water of the East River churning and spitting salt crust against the hem of my ruined gray wool dress.
My arms were burning, the muscles in my shoulders tearing as I bore the entire weight of Silas’s collapsing frame. He wasn't the untouchable titan who had signed my life away in London anymore. He was light. He felt terribly, chillingly light, his tall body hollowed out by the rivers of blood he had left on the white tiles of Room 412 and the cold concrete of the boiler lines. His chin was r
