The gold chains of the emerald dress hit the floor with a sharp, metallic ring. Silas didn't wait for her to move. He gripped Arya's waist and hauled her flush against him. The broken man from the club was gone; in his place was a man possessed.
"You own every inch of this skin, Arya," Silas growled, his voice vibrating deep in his chest. He buried his face in the curve of her neck, inhaling her jasmine scent like a man starving for air. "I am your weapon. I am your shadow. But I will be the only thing that touches you."
Arya gasped as his teeth grazed her shoulder. A strange, golden heat was humming through her veins—the System's influence making every nerve ending feel electric. She ran her nails down his scarred back, pulling him closer until her curves were crushed against his rock-hard chest.
"Prove it, Silas," she whispered. "Show me what my money bought."
Silas let out a low, animalistic sound. He stood up without letting her go and pinned her against the cold glass wall of the penthouse. The city lights glittered behind her, but Arya only saw the dark, obsessive fire in his eyes.
He stripped the emerald silk away until she stood trembling in the moonlight. His gaze traveled over her body—the ivory skin, the lush curves she had hidden for years. "You're a goddess," he rasped, his hand sliding up her thigh with a possessive grip. "And I'm going to worship you until you forget any other man ever existed."
He dropped to his knees, his tongue tracing the line of her hip, his hands holding her steady. Arya arched her back against the glass, her fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer as the tension reached a breaking point.
Silas stood back up, flipping her around and pressing her palms against the cool glass. One hand tangled in her hair, pulling her head back to expose her throat, while the other pinned her hips firmly to the window.
"Look at the city, Arya," he breathed into her ear, his body a heavy, scorching weight against her back. "Look at the buildings they took from us. Tomorrow, we start tearing them down. But tonight... you belong only to me."
When he took her, it was a claim. Arya cried out, her breath fogging the glass as he drove into her with a rhythmic, desperate force. It wasn't gentle. It was the friction of two broken souls fusing together. Silas was obsessive, his hands never leaving her, marking her shoulders and hips with the ghost of his grip. He wanted to leave his mark so deep that no amount of Lily's lies could ever wash it away.
As the moonlight shifted, Silas turned her back around. He looked haunted, possessed by the woman who had pulled him from the abyss.
"Say it," he commanded, his voice breaking. "Say you're mine."
"I'm yours, Silas," Arya gasped, her heart hammering against his. "And you're my King."
They collapsed onto the rug, breathless. Silas didn't pull away. He held her in a crushing embrace, his eyes wide and watching her even as she tried to close hers. He wasn't going to sleep. He was going to watch her breathe all night, making sure she didn't disappear with the dawn. The revenge was just beginning, and Arya finally had the beast she needed to finish it.