Page 62 of Silent Oaths
Hedoesn’t answer, but the corner of his mouth twitches.
Ipush further, just to watch the heat creep up her neck. “Butit’s okay,Starling.Wecan find other ways to mark you as our own.”
Isabel’sbreath stutters for half a second, and then she folds her arms, jaw set.
Theodorefinally moves, reaching for the notebook.Heflips it open, skimming her words. “Soyou’ve finally come to your senses.”
Herchin lifts. “Ican expose them.Andyour father.”
“Verywell, then.Tomorrow, you shall accompany us to your old workplace.”
Isabelscoffs. “Yousound like an aristocratic asshole.”Then, she blinks.Once.Twice. “Wait… what?”
Ismirk at the way her eyes widen, at the slight hitch in her breath.Shewasn’t expecting that.
Theodorechuckles, closing the notebook. “Youthought we’d keep you locked away forever?”
Isabel’smouth opens then shuts.Shelooks between the three of us, like she’s waiting for the punchline. “You’reletting me leave?”
“Withsupervision, of course.”
“Ofcourse,” she echoes, still clearly stunned.Then, something in her expression shifts.Herbrows knit, suspicion creeping in. “Wait… what do you mean,oldjob?”
Ilet out a quiet laugh. “Doyou really think you’re still an employee ofVanguard?”
Herarms tighten around herself. “Whynot?”
Theodoreleans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Becauseyou work personally forusnow.”
“Excuseme?”Isabelexclaims.
Ihum, enjoying every second of this. “Youwanted to help, didn’t you?”
“Yes, but?—”
“Nobuts,”Iinterrupt. “Afterthe stuntValeriapulled, you’re already on the council’s radar,Isabel.Andif you think we’re letting you out of our sight just to go running back to her, you’re not as smart asIthought.”
Herlips press into a thin line.Shewants to argue.Ican see it in the way her hands twitch, the way her nails dig into her arms, like she’s holding herself together by sheer force of will.
Julianlifts his gaze from my tattoo. “Beready by nine tomorrow morning,” he tells her simply. “You’llbe riding with me.”
Hethen grabs a paper towel, dousing it with green soap before swiping it over the fresh ink on my skin.Thesting is a sharp, satisfying burn, andIhiss through my teeth.
Itilt my head, admiringJulian’slatest masterpiece.It’sflawless.Hefreestyled the design—something he has done for me before—but this one feels poetic.
Askull grins up at me, wide and maniacal, its teeth exaggerated into sharp points.Onehollow eye socket is stretched into something almost comically large, the other crossed out like a dead cartoon character.Ajester’s hat sits crooked on its head, the fabric torn, bells hanging from the ends, as if they’ve long since rusted silent.Belowthe skull, in sharp, looping script, are the words:Laughwhile you can.
“Quitsquirming,”Julianmumbles.
Ismirk, tilting my head back against the couch. “Who’ssquirming?I’msavoring.”
Julianhuffs, shaking his head as he grabs another paper towel, pressing it down over the ink to soak up the excess.
Isabelwatches from where she stands, arms still folded, but there’s curiosity in her gaze now.She’sstudyingJulianas he works—the way he wipes away the ink, checking his lines, the way he moves with precision.Theodoreis watching too.
“Betyou’d savor anything ifJulianwas the one giving it to you,”Theodorequips.
Aslow grin spreads across my face. “Maybe.Dependson what he’s offering.”
