Page 104 of Her Soul to Own

“It was… stupid. A party. I’d had too much to drink, and I was already feeling like shit about everything. Lyra’s been shutting me out, and with the podcast going nowhere and the silence in my apartment getting too loud…”

She finally looks up at me, and her eyes are glassy, shining with tears she’s trying too hard to hold back.

“He knew. Heknew… I was in a bad place. That I’d say yes to anything that felt like attention, or maybe validation.” She lets out a shaky breath. “He told me he could help. That he had investor connections, that he could ‘elevate my brand.’ AndI believed him. For five minutes, I let myself believe someone actually saw me.”

The tears spill over now, and she doesn’t bother to wipe them away.

“But the second I pulled away, the second I said no to whatever he thought came next… he flipped. He told me he’d leak a story. Something disgusting. He said he’d make it look like I was sleeping with Lyra to stay relevant.”

What the fuck? What kind of sick bastard is that guy?

Her voice cracks at the end, brittle and raw. “I begged him to stop. And he just smiled like it was all a game, and watching me panic was the reward.”

I don’t speak. I don’t move. Her confession hangs in the air, dangerous and vulnerable, burning with all the things she’s never said out loud.

And in that moment, the image of Declan I held—smug, manipulative, and a power-drunk bastard—solidifies into something far worse. Apredator.

I know she’s waiting for me to react, to say something. To tell her she’s a piece of shit for sleeping with him. But I’m not here to judge. I’m here to finish this, to make sure Lyra’s safe.

“Why didn’t you tell her?” I ask. It’s simple, but it stings. It always does.

Her eyes flash with pain, and she lowers her voice. “Because I was ashamed. And because she already has too many people twisting knives.” She exhales, her guilt weighing down on her shoulders.

I don’t respond at first. I just take a long look at her, letting her feel my anger and disappointment in Declan. She needs to realize what’s happening. She needs to see just how deep this goes. She can’t just hide from the truth forever. This is far worse than I had anticipated.

When she looks up at me, her eyes rimmed red and swollen, I see that she’s broken.

“I’m done hiding,” she says quietly, her voice gaining strength. “If Lyra burns her dad down, or whoever, I’ll light the first match. She’s my best friend.”

For the first time since I walked into this apartment, I finally see her for who she really is. She’s not some weak-willed woman caught in a web of lies. She’s someone who’s been trying to protect Lyra in her own way. A twisted way, sure. But she’s got guts.

I don’t say anything at first. I just nod quietly. She’s right. If she’s going to play her part in this, then she’s going to have to own it. She has no choice now.

“Good,” I say, my voice soft but final. “Because the spark’s already lit.”

Zara doesn’t hesitate. I know she’s already made her decision. She knows what she has to do.

I don’t waste time with pleasantries. There’s too much at stake. “Get yourself together, Zara,” I say as I turn to leave. “This war isn’t over. And now you’re a part of it as well.”

I start to walk toward the door, ready to leave. There’s nothing more to say, nothing more to do. Zara’s been warned. She knows what side she’s on now. I want to say something reassuring to her after what she’s been through, but I’ve never been good with words. Not with anyone who isn’t Lyra, so I choose to stay quiet.

But then, she speaks again, her voice quiet but firm. “Silas…” She pauses, clearly weighing something in her head before she says it, “Can you… can you get Lyra to talk to me?”

I stop in my tracks and roll my eyes. “Seriously?” I mutter, not bothering to turn around. “You want me to play matchmaker for you two?”

Her tone shifts, softer now, a mix of frustration and something else. “You owe me. I set up that damn meeting with Blake. The least you can do is get her to talk to me.”

I don’t answer right away. Instead, I cross my arms over my chest and let out a long sigh, still facing the door. When Zara speaks again, her voice is quieter, almost pleading.

“I miss my best friend, Silas,” she says, her words almost breaking through the stubbornness in my chest. “I need this… please.”

I stay still, her words hitting me like a punch to the gut. I can see it now, her desperation and the cracks behind her usual tough exterior. She’s not some pampered rich girl anymore. She’s been through shit, and I know it.

I exhale slowly, the frustration rolling off me in waves. I can’t just leave it like this.

“Fine,” I finally say, turning back toward her. “I’ll see what I can do.”

She uncrosses her arms, her posture softening, and there’s an almost relieved smile on her face. But it’s brief, like she’s not entirely sure she believes I’ll come through. I don’t blame her, since I’m not exactly a people pleaser.

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