Page 11 of Sins of the Hidden

Nausea curdled in my gut. I'd seen that look before–the one that promised death. The way Knight's shoulders tensed and his hands tightened, knuckles whitening against his knees told me this wasn't an idle threat.

Tension crackled between them—desire as sharp as shattered glass. It was different from the way V stalked me—his presence suffocating with the weight of death. Knight's focus carried intensity, not malice. Passion, not emptiness.

Faith moved gracefully, shifting her stance without looking at him, reaching for a comb on the counter. Her hip brushed his shoulder in passing—a spark against dry kindling. His pupils dilated instantly, tracking every movement with the intent of something starved finally catching a scent.

A dare flickered behind her lashes as she met his challenge, the casual brush of her body against his arm baiting him like a lure.

"Don't you have someone else to harass?" Faith snapped, her voice clipped, but there was a tightness beneath it, like holding back something sharp.

His laugh rumbled deep, a sound that spoke more of hunger than humor. "None as entertaining as you, gorgeous."

The way his attention latched onto her reminded me of how V tracked me. But where V's attention weighed like a burial shroud, Knight's burned—threatening but passionate. Faith seemed to dance in that furnace, letting it warm her edges without burning too close.

"Watch who you're calling gorgeous." The scissors paused mid-snip, our eyes met, not in glass but something sharper as she smiled with a gleam like the blade in her hand. "Last time you got too familiar, you needed stitches."

Knight unfolded slowly, deliberately, from the parlor chair. His boots hit the polished floor heavily, sending a faint tremor through my shoes. He moved directly behind Faith, their reflections blurring into one dark shape. His breath ghosted across her ear, voice lowering to a velvet rasp.

"Worth every second." The silver barbell in his tongue caught the light like a blade drawn slowly. His words curled around Faith's ear, intimate and threatening. "One of these days, that smart mouth is gonna get you in trouble."

Where I'd shake, Faith stood steady, even with a known murderer behind her. "And one of these days you're gonna learn I don't respond well to threats." The scissors rose, unhurried, finding his jugular like a kiss meant to scar.

My lungs forgot how to work as I witnessed them locked in their deadly routine. Knight's fingers flexed against Faith's throat. His laugh fractured the tension—cracked and sharp—before he stepped back, rubbing the spot where cold metal whispered against his skin.

"Fiery as ever." The words carried equal parts admiration and caution—enough to taste like fear.

Faith withdrew her blade from his neck, "Now be a good boy and know your place."

The hostility in Knight's expression melted into something feral, "Which is?"

"Beneath me," she hissed, pointing to the chair. "Now sit or get out."

My stomach twisted as Knight's tongue traces his top lip, Faith's eyes followed the movement, betraying her so-called indifference. His voice laced with poison, "I'll be your good boy, baby."

Faith's eyes caught mine, seeing my discomfort. Her next movement put her body subtly between Knight and me.

I kept my eyes fixed downward, studying the dark strands of trimmed hair collecting on the cloth. The familiar pattern of snipping scissors provided rhythm to their unspoken exchange, punctuated only by Knight's limbs twitching like he'd barely leashed.

"Almost done," Faith told me. She said it sweetly, like she didn't just threaten to gut someone.

I risked a glance but regretted it immediately. She tracked his motion like a sixth sense, tongue toying with the barbell like he was savoring the tension.

Faith kept her cool, but tension clung to her shoulders. She shifted with urgency, as if outrunning the pull between them. She fluffed my hair one final time, pretending not to notice how Knight drank her in like he was starving. "All done, gorgeous."

The mirror showed a stranger wearing my face. The layers should help, but the glass mocked me, highlighting every flaw I dreaded. I twisted the edge of the smock nervously as I fought the urge to look away from this version of me that never showed what I wanted to see.

"What do you think?" Her words threaded through the fog of self-criticism clouding my mind.

"It's beautiful," I said, the lie bitter on my tongue. Nothing about me could ever deserve that word.

Knight's low whistle cut through my spiral, but his attention remained fixed on Faith. He watched her hands moving through my hair one last time, like he paid for front-row tickets to her touch. I was grateful for his fixation - his indifference shielded me from the weight of being seen. My nails pressed into the smock's edge as I pretended to admire myself, while every nerve begged me to vanish.

My muscles protested as I stood, the fabric sliding away like discarded armor. Faith moved toward the front desk, and goosebumps chased down my spine as Knight trailed us like smoke. "See you tomorrow?"

Knight loomed, sealing off my escape like a wall made of muscle and heat. "What's going on tomorrow?"

Faith's eyes narrowed at him, her pretty red lips curling into a sneer. "None of your business."

"I mean, you can either tell me now or I could follow Oakley. See where she disappears to." He shrugged, arms crossing as he filled the doorway, all menace and quiet calculation. "And if you don't pay rent tonight, I'll just come by tomorrow with a late fee."

---