Silas closes his eyes. A shudder runs through his body.
"I’m scared," he admits. The words are barely audible. It is the first time the King of New York has ever admitted fear. "I don't know how to be a father. I only know how to be a warlord."
"Then be a warlord," I say fierce. "Be the warlord who protects his kingdom. Not the one who burns it down."
I pull back to look at him.
"This baby doesn't need a saint, Silas. It needs you. It needs the wolf."
Something shifts in his eyes. The frantic, cornered look fades, replaced by a slow, dawning clarity.
He looks at his hand on my stomach. He spreads his fingers, covering me.
"He’s playing a game," Silas murmurs. "Pendelton. He’s using psychological warfare."
"Yes."
"He thinks I’m weak. He thinks I’m unstable."
Silas sits up straighter. The lethargy vanishes. The predator returns, but this time, it is focused.
"He made a mistake," Silas says.
"What mistake?"
"He assumed I was alone."
He looks at me. He grabs my hips and pulls me closer.
"My father was alone. He destroyed everyone who got close to him. But I..."
He kisses my stomach. A gesture of reverence.
"I have the Queen."
He stands up. He is taller than me, broader, emanating power. But the darkness around him isn't suffocating anymore. It’s armor.
"You’re right," he says. "I am not him."
He walks to the window. He looks out at the city.
"Pendelton is hiding," he says. "He sent that file from a secure server. He thinks he’s invisible."
"Is he?"
Silas turns back to me. A cruel, beautiful smile twists his lips.
"No one is invisible to me. Not anymore."
He walks to the desk and types a command. The screen changes. A map appears.
"I traced the routing of the email," he explains. "It bounced through three proxies. But he got lazy with the timestamp. It matches a login at a private club in the Upper East Side. TheCentury Club."
"Old money," I say. "Pendelton’s natural habitat."
"Exactly."
Silas walks over to me. He takes my face in his hands.
