Selene follows him into the elevator. The ride back to the penthouse was silent, but it was the kind of silence that hummed with static electricity. Inside the darkened interior of the Maybach, the city lights flickered across Silas’s face, turning his features into a series of sharp, jagged angles. He hadn't let go of Selene’s hand since they left the museum. His grip wasn't painful, but it was absolute—a reminder of the "Property" status he had claimed in front of his brother.

When the elevator doors finally hissed shut behind them in the penthouse foyer, Selene stripped off the gold sandals, her feet aching almost as much as her heart.