“We shouldn’t be doing this. We shouldn’t have done this. She’s my sister.”“Don’t say that,” Silas murmurs into my hair, voice genuinely pleading. “Please don’t ever say that.”“We’re hunters,” I choke.“Yes. Of course we are. We’re . . . we’re more . . . but . . .” He shakes his head and pushes me out to arm’s length, lowering his head to look me in the eyes. “I didn’t mean for us to hurt her, Rosie, but I wouldn’t take any of it back. I couldn’t take any of it back—I love you too much.”

“Do you . . .” I begin, then turn around to make sure Scarlett is really asleep, not just faking it—her chest rises and falls a different way when it’s genuine. Satisfied, I look back to Silas and choose my words carefully. “Do you think I’m a good hunter?”Silas looks confused. “Of course. You and Lett are the best hunters I—”“No, not me and Scarlett. Just me,” I say.Silas slows the car a tad to look at me. “Yes. Yes, of course. You’re—pardon my language—you’re fucking deadly with a knife, Rosie.”I smile and shake my head, remembering all the times Silas scolded his older brothers for throwing language around in front of my “virgin ears.” It’s sort of satisfying to know that his perspective has changed. “Right,” I say. “I mean, we hunt together. But Scarlett . . . it’s like a part of her soul.”“Dramatic much?” Silas teases, but he frowns when I don’t laugh.“You know what I mean. It drives her.”“But not you?”“I don’t know. I mean, maybe. It doesn’t matter. I owe Scarlett my life, you know?”“Yeah, but . . . like I told your sister, that doesn’t mean she’s got you locked in a cage forever. Unless you want to be locked in a cage, I mean. Wait, that sounds weird.” Silas shakes his head and sighs. “I’m forever tripping on words with you, Rosie.”“I have that effect on people,” I joke, but Silas’s face stays serious as he nods slightly. I grin nervously.”

“I didn’t know you’d grown to love hunting so much,” Silas notes, sounding genuinely surprised.I backpedal. “I . . . I mean, it’s not about liking hunting. It’s about the fact that I spend hours training every day for solo hunts she won’t let me do. If I have to live the life of a hunter, I’d like to actually, you know, hunt.”“Ah,” Silas says, though I’m pretty sure I didn’t make any sense. “Well, not that I’m in favor of her stealing hunts from you, but I’ll confess it’s hard to think about Rosie March on her own, killing wolves, and not get overprotective.” He paused, and he seems to be choosing his words carefully. “Even if you aren’t exactly ‘little Rosie March’ anymore.”My eyes find his, trying to analyze the meaning of his words, of the change in his tone. But just as I finally take a breath and will myself to speak, the pipes from the upstairs shower rattle above us. I turn back to the oven, out of my trance. I’m overanalyzing things, as usual.“What are you making, then?” Silas asks, voice back to normal.“Um . . . meatloaf.” The sexiest of foods.”

“Silas nods and turns to back the car up, accidently brushing a hand against my shoulders as he does so.“Sorry,” he says under his breath, like he’s whispering in church. I shake my head as Scarlett settles her long arms and legs in the backseat and uses her cloak as a blanket.Still trying to lean somewhere between the door of death and Silas’s shoulder, I stare out the window as we lumber out of town. The road is smooth, hypnotic, with the dotted lines vanishing rhythmically before us. I glance back at my sister. She’s fallen asleep, and Screwtape is casting her dark looks, as if she’s to blame for his predicament.I looked toward Silas, trying to appear as if I’m just glancing out his window. Really, I want to study him intensely. He’s wearing one of his many nearly threadbare T-shirts, jeans that are soft from washing, wavy hair . . . Everything about him begs to be touched . . .“You’re nervous,” Silas says suddenly.“What? No!” I answer sharply. Am I that obvious?Silas raises an eyebrow and laughs.“It makes sense. I mean, you and Lett have lived in Ellison forever.” Right . . . right. He’s talking about the trip, not my resisting the temptation to fall on him. We’re silent for a moment, nearly tangible awkwardness floating around the front seats. Silas drums his fingers on the steering wheel.”

“I’m sorry, Rosie,” Silas says when he sees the sadness in my eyes. I shake my head, trying to brush the look away, but Silas isn’t easily deterred. He hesitates, then leans on the counter beside me, moving slowly as if he needs verification that each move is acceptable, wanted.“Hey,” he says, resting two fingers on my arm. It starts as a friendly gesture. I press my lips together as he slides his palm up my arm and around his shoulders. Silas paused, and though I’m not certain, I think he realizes that the touch is far more friendly as well—a thought that makes me dizzy but practically forces me to move my own hand to the small of his back. I close my eyes and inhale, and I feel Silas’s breath on my forehead, hear his relaxed heartbeats. His lips are so close to me, I could easily tilt my head back and kiss him if I were braver. It’s hard to not sigh, like the exhausted breath is building up in my chest and I’m holding it back, though more than anything I want to release it, to truly hold myself against him—Scarlett’s shower cuts off. Silas snatches his arm away and I lean back up, head swirling from the quick change.“Um . . . right,” Silas says, looking startled. He looks at me. “Okay, back to studying Potentials, wolves, important stuff . . .” He shakes his head as if he’s casting away a mental fog.I bite my lip. I want to get out of here—I need to get out of here, or the thumping desire for Silas is going to consume me. There’s no way Scarlett won’t figure it out if I can’t escape and get my mind off him. It’s just for a little while—I can go get groceries or something. Silas will help her research. We can’t keep paying for Chinese food. I meet Silas’s eyes, dashes of sky color in the monotone apartment.“I’ll be back,” I say, then dart for the door.“Wait!” he whispers sharply. He lunges toward the couch and tosses me the belt with my knives on it. “Just in case.” I catch it with one hand and swing it around my waist. Silas gives me a sly smile—does he know the affect that smile has on me?”

“Come on. Let’s go get coffee, get your mind off it,” Silas says soothingly as I begin to take my frustration out on the bag of bread, violently twisting the end of the plastic into a knot.“I don’t like coffee,” I grumble without looking at him. Silas reaches forward and puts his hands over mine. Goose bumps erupt on my arms.He raises his eyebrows, voice gentle. “You can get chocolate milk, then. But let’s get out of here before you bend the entire loaf in half.” I sigh and look at him. Funny how he can go from being “just Silas” to Silas in a matter of seconds. I release the bread and follow him out the door, my frustration and the flutter feeling fighting for control of me.The diner Silas takes me to is just a few blocks away, a dingy but classic-looking place with black and white tile and red neon signs blinking things such as “Apple Pie!” and “Specialty Hash Browns!” We slide into a booth, and a waitress who is missing several teeth grins at us and asks us for our order.“Just a cup of coffee for me. You, Rosie?”“Chocolate milk,” I reply with a snide look at Silas. He laughs and the waitress hurries away. Then, silence. Silas rearranges the salt and pepper shakers, and I pretend to read a piece of paper outlining the history of the diner. Right.“So,” I blurt out, a little louder than I meant to, “I guess you didn’t get much time at home, did you? Back from California and now stuck here with us?” Is my voice shaking? I think my voice is shaking.”

“I look back at Silas, who is adding more sugar to his coffee. “Okay. Fine. One class, but only because I might not get another chance once we’re back in Ellison. And you have to promise not to tell Scarlett.”“Only if you let me pay for it,” he counters.“Silas,” I say threateningly.He shrugs. “You and Lett are broke. And besides, if you pay for it, Scarlett will know the money is missing.”“Fine,” I say dismissively.“Great. Let’s go get you signed up, then,” he says, rising and dropping a few crumbled dollars onto the tabletop. I remain seated, mouth open.“Now?”“No time like the present. I suppose I’ve taken Operation Rosie-Gets-a-Life as a personal mission. It’s too similar to Operation Silas-Gets-a-Life for me to ignore.” He extends a hand to me, and, without thinking, I take it. My heart rate quickens and I want to pull him toward me.Oh god. What am I thinking? I pull my hand away again and smile nervously. Silas smiles almost sheepishly. Did he feel the same stirring sensation?”