Chapter 7: The Viper in the Snow
The morning sun hit the snow with a blinding, clinical light. I woke up with a head that felt like it had been kicked by a mule, the memory of my drunken confession to Silas curdling in my stomach like sour milk. I had called him a perv. Again. After he'd shared the heaviest parts of his life with me.
I crept down the stairs, my plan being to steal a piece of toast and find a way back to town before I had to look him in the eye. But as I reached the bottom step, the sound of a strange voice stopped me cold.
It wasn't Silas's low rumble. This voice was higher, smoother—like expensive silk sliding over a blade.
"I didn't realize you were entertaining, Silas. If I'd known, I wouldn't have risked the Land Rover in this mess."
I hovered in the hallway, peering into the kitchen. Silas was standing by the stove, his back stiff. Across from him, leaning casually against the marble island, was a man who looked like he'd been airmailed directly from a high-rise in Atlanta. He was in his late thirties, wearing a designer turtleneck and a coat that cost more than my life. He was handsome in a way that felt aggressive—symmetrical, polished, and perfectly groomed.
"She's Martha's niece, Julian. Her car went into the ditch," Silas said. His tone was clipped, lacking the warmth he'd shown me the night before.
"Ah," the man—Julian—said. He turned his head then, as if he'd known exactly where I was hiding all along. His eyes weren't warm like Silas's. They were pale, cold, and moved over me with the clinical precision of a man appraising a piece of real estate. "The little runaway from the gala. I recognized that choppy hair from across the ballroom."
I stepped into the room, my hand tightening on the banister. "I wasn't running away."
Julian smiled. It didn't reach his eyes. "Of course not. You were just... navigating." He walked toward me, his movements fluid and predatory. He stopped just outside my personal space, smelling of citrus and something chemical. "I'm Julian Vane. Silas's partner in the more... profitable side of his ventures."
He reached out and took my hand before I could pull it away. He didn't shake it; he held it, his thumb tracing a slow, lingering circle over my knuckles. It was a gesture of ownership, not greeting. Unlike Silas's touch, which felt like heat, Julian's touch felt like a thin film of oil.
"Alina, isn't it?" Julian purred. "Martha speaks of you often. Though she failed to mention you were quite so... luminous in the morning light."
"She's twenty-one, Julian," Silas said, his voice dropping an octave. He stepped between us, his massive frame a physical barrier. The tension in the room spiked so sharply I could almost hear it snap.
Julian laughed, a light, musical sound that sent a shiver of pure dread down my spine. "I have eyes, Silas. I was merely being polite. Something you've always struggled with, trapped out here in the dirt."
Julian turned back to me, his gaze flickering over my shoulder toward the stairs. "Must have been a long night. The storm was quite fierce. I hope Silas was a... gracious host?"
The way he said gracious made my skin crawl. He was digging, looking for a crack, looking for something to use. He wasn't a "perv" in the way I'd accused Silas of being; Julian was a collector of secrets.
"He was fine," I snapped, pulling my hand away and shoving it into my pocket.
"I'm sure he was," Julian said softly. He turned to Silas, his smile broadening. "We have the zoning board meeting on Tuesday, Silas. Don't let the... local distractions... keep you from the numbers. You know how I get when our interests aren't protected."
Julian reached out and patted Silas's shoulder, a condescending, patronizing gesture that made Silas's jaw muscle ripple. Then, Julian looked back at me, his eyes lingering on my lips for a second too long.
"I'll see you soon, Alina. I have a feeling we're going to be seeing a lot of each other."
He turned and walked out, the heavy front door clicking shut behind him with an ominous finality.
The silence that followed was suffocating. Silas didn't move. He stood staring at the door, his hands clenched into white-knuckled fists at his sides.
"Who is he?" I whispered, my heart hammering.
"Someone I should have stopped doing business with a long time ago," Silas said, his voice sounding like it was being dragged over gravel. He finally turned to me, and for the first time, I saw real fear in his eyes. Not for himself, but for me. "Alina, stay away from him. I mean it. If you see his car, you go the other way."
"I can handle a guy like that," I said, trying to regain my bravado.
Silas stepped forward, his hands catching my shoulders. He didn't squeeze, but the intensity was staggering. "No, you can't. You're used to fighting people who tell you they hate you. Julian tells you he loves you while he's taking the air out of your lungs. He's not a man, Alina. He's a machine."
I looked at the door, then back at Silas. The "boredom" I'd felt at the diner seemed like a dream. The world had just gotten a lot smaller, and a lot more dangerous.
And as I looked into Silas's eyes, I realized that the "gentleman" wasn't just my protector anymore. He was my only hope of surviving the man who had just left.