He wrinkles his nose, which is so fucking cute that I… Never mind.
I gesture for him to spill his guts.
“We actually do have ethics,” he insists. “Nothing standard, of course, but there is a discernible right and wrong, I think. And I don’t think forcing this information out of me is on the side of right.”
His sincerity is utterly precious.
I think about Holmes’s test results. Silas has none of hisgrandiosity or false charms, which further supports my theory of the man.
“You’re not wrong,” I admit. “If it makes a difference, I have already seen your previous tests.”
“You have?”
God, he looks socrushed. Like maybe my opinion of him is important.
I’m reminded that, over the last few months, I’ve caught a vibe from him. I shared that with my sister Amelia when she visited last month, and she wouldn’t. Let. The. Topic. Die.
Worse, she doesn’t think Sy’s merely interested. She’s entirely convinced he’sin lovewith me.
Sisters.
More importantly, though, I wonder what Dad would think if he could see Silas like this. Vulnerable. Worried about my opinion of him. Would it sway his ingrained fear of the man?
Probably not.
Especially if they already know about the murder room.
Returning my focus to Sy, I answer truthfully. “Yes. I’ve seen your test results and read about your rather disturbing history. I don’t—nor would I ever—judge you. Super promise.”
“You’ll be happy to know that I don’t torture animals or indiscriminately rage out on the unsuspecting public, if that’s the disturbing history you’re so kindly trying to brush over.”
“It is.”
He tugs at his collar.
Adorable.
Adorable and fucking murderous.
“And you don’t judge me for it?”
I shake my head. “You were a little kid, Sy. You’ve worked hard to bring those impulses under control.”
In fact, while this test served as the basis for my doctoral thesis, I often had Silas in mind. Not because I thought he was apsychopath, but because I knew he’d been given tests like this his entire life. I wanted to ensure the questions were easy to respond to and treated the subject—someone like Silas—with dignity.
“What about what you saw earlier, in Mav’s initiation?” he asks, challenging me. “You’re not judging me for that either?”
“Not at all.”
I chew on my bottom lip for a second, knowing that honesty is the key to him fully trusting me. “It does color how I see you. Not negatively,” I’m quick to add. “It just adds a layer.”
“Oh.”
I press my lips together. “Also, since you took long enough to get here, I passed the time watching some of the footage from when they found you.”
Silas looks off to the side while pulling at his collar. “And?”
“I’ll answer you if you look me in the eyes.”
