Page 40 of Empress of Ruin
We haven’t shared a room since the last quarterly meeting with The Eyes. We certainly haven’t exchanged any words since the night I had him mutilate himself to make reparations. I’ll give him this; his bounce back from being a sniveling, beaten-down child to growing a pair has been impressive, but I know his confidence is a farce. He has some powerful backers, and that’s the only reason he has the nerve to walk up to me.
“Lyra, is it?” Silas flashes Lyra a cold smile. “I don’t believe we’ve ever been formally introduced, though I think I’ve spotted you at some events. You made quite the jump from working for Killian to—”
“She never workedforme,” I interject.
“My mistake, of course not.” Silas appraises Lyra. “What did you think about that expose that came out shortly after your time shadowing Killian concluded?”
Mother. Fucker. It’s not difficult to connect the dots andassumethat Lyra’s the one who published it, but nobody can actually prove it—and the proof is what matters above all. Without it, she has deniability. But Silas cornering her… he must have formed averyclose alliance with Vladimir, indeed.
“I thought it was pages of nonsense,” Lyra replies without flinching. She’s clocked Silas as the enemy, and her composure is impressive. “Business is business, right? Everyone in your tax bracket gets their hands dirty. It shouldn’t come as any surprise.”
Silas cocks his head to the side, examining Lyra with curiosity and more than a little lust. I shift closer to her, tightening my hold on her hand.
“It is, indeed. And, regarding the tape that came out—I’msosorry someone saw fit to impersonate you, or go through the trouble of making an AI video of you, or whatever it actually was that happened. It couldn’t have been pleasant to know that half the country saw that—”
“Silas.” My words are a warning growl. “Step. The fuck. Back.”
“Oh, did I hit a nerve? My apologies, I was trying to comfort, not—”
“I will not say it again. Go thefuckaway.” Lyra’s face has drained of all color. The expression in her eyes is slightly faraway, and her posture starts to hunch with humiliation.
I would beat Silas to death right here and now if I could, but one of the security people guarding the door would doubtless fill me with bullets before I could finish. His time will come.Ourtime will come, but not just yet. There will be a reckoning one day, but not today.
Silas smiles again, but there’s a hint of nerves in his eyes that wasn’t there previously. He’s uneasy.Good. I’m going to enjoy killing him slowlywhenmy request is approved, whichwillhappen. I won’t allow anything else.
I turn to Lyra, stepping in front of her and shielding her with my frame. Nobody else should approach while we appear to be in an intimate moment. “Are you alright?”
“Fine.” Her tone is clipped.
While I might not be an expert on emotions, I have gleaned that when a womansaysshe’s fine, she very rarely actually is. “We can go home soon. An hour or so. We’ll eat a few appetizers, mingle with a few people, and leave. Okay?”
“Fine,” she repeats.
Fuck. I’m probably going to be in the dog house after this. Strangely enough, I’m looking forward to the ensuing fight.
One hour turns into two, as each person we approach or who we’re approached by take up a good twenty or thirty minutes. All of them, of course, gush about Lyra—and why wouldn’t they? She’s beautiful, smart, well-spoken, and charismatic. I’d have thought she was completely over the Silas incident if she didn’t treat me with cold indifference every time she wasn’t putting on a show.
Looks like it’ll be the dog house, indeed. I’ll spank the anger out of her later. I might even grab my belt if Lyra’s feeling particularly testy today.
Silas stares at us throughout the evening, not even attempting to be covert. He and Vladimir share a long conversation in the corner of the room, glancing at me and Lyra periodically. I’m sure my little journalist notices, but she doesn’t comment. I suspect she’s much more afraid than she’s letting on, because she’s behaving herself quite well this evening.
Perhaps talking to her about the meaning of this and explaining some things wouldn’t be the worst course of action… but that would require trust, and I do not trust her with information. Not before she’s pregnant, at least. After all, she’s already betrayed me by writing an expose, and she barely knew anything aside from a simple hostile takeover back then. If shekneweverything, she really could write something that would ruin my career and get us both killed.
Unless I give her a different writing project to focus on.Hm.
When the clock ticks past 10pm, I make my exit with Lyra in tow. As soon as we step into our car, the smile she’s kept pasted on her face falls, and a look of pure exhaustion overtakes her. She melts into the car seat, head lolling against the headrest, and fixes her gaze out of the window.
“You did very well.”
“Fuck you.”
Alright, then.
“I’m proud of—”
“If you finish that sentence, I swear I’ll find a way to ruin you.” Her head swivels to face me, and her eyes meet mine. “There is absolutely nothing to beproud of,Killian. I lied and faked my way through that evening, and I hated every single fucking second of it. Now please, don’t talk to me for the rest of the night. I need to recover.”
I work my jaw, staring at her. The genuine exhaustion straining her expression makes me uneasy, as does the fact that she hasn’t eaten, and I know she hasn’t been sleeping well.
