The accusation settles between us.
I don’t answer.
Because part of me knows he’s not wrong.
Being seen with him will spark questions. It will invite whispers. It will paint a target on both of us before we even make it through the front door.
But that’s not the only reason.
The real reason sits heavier.
Being next to him in a room like that, where everything is already blurred, loud and careless, feels dangerous in a way I don’t fully trust.
Silas waits for me to respond.
I don’t.
Instead, I inhale slowly, trying to steady myself.
“Don’t make me regret this,” I say finally.
The words come out quieter than intended, but there’s enough steel in them to mean something.
He pulls into a darker stretch of curb several houses down, cutting the engine. The music from the party still thrums in the distance, a steady pulse in the night air.
Silas lets out a soft scoff, mouth twitching.
“Careful, Octavia,” he says, turning slightly toward me. “You seem to forget who I am.”
Another reminder.
Another warning.
Turning to face him fully now, the glow from the dashboard lights the sharp lines of his face.
“I don’t forget,” I reply evenly.
I never do.
But I’m starting to wonder if he wants me afraid more than he wants me gone.
That realization unsettles me more than any threat he could make.
The second the engine cuts, I reach across him, shoving the gear fully into park, the motion forcing his hand forward on the console.
He barely reacts.
That only fuels me more.
Before I can talk myself out of it, I lean across the armrest and get in his face, my body stretching over the center console, close enough that I can feel the warmth radiating off him. Twisting the keys out of the ignition with a sharp yank, I point the metal tip straight into his chest.
“Let me make one thing clear, Silas,” I say, my voice shaking with nerves.
The key presses against the fabric of his flannel, right over his sternum. He doesn’t move. Doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t even blink.
“You don’t scare me,” I continue, shoving the key harder into him. “And you never will. Whatever the fuck you did, whatever headlines follow you around, it’s nothing compared to the shit I’ve seen.”
The words spill faster now, years of buried anger rising to the surface.
