Zara Fen POV,
The moon was a cold, judgmental eye over the Downridge estate as Silas’s SUV finally crunched to a halt.
My legs were so stiff they felt like they belonged to someone else just like a piece of wood attached to a body that had forgotten how to feel warm.
Silas killed the engine, but he didn't move to open the door. He just sat there, staring at the darkened windows of the packhouse.
"You don't have to start tonight, Zara," he said, his voice raspy from the long drive. "The silver won't even be cleared from the pass until dawn. You should get some sleep. Not the kind where you stare at the ceiling and count your regrets."
I looked at my hands in the dim light. They were steady. That was the problem. The adrenaline of the meeting had drained away, leaving behind a terrifyi
