Silas was strange.

Why any normal twenty-one year old boy would want to spend his time working at an old nearly-abandoned bookstore was completely beyond me.

Yes, twenty-one years old.

Silas Bridges. Third-year literature student with zero presence on social media, two overdue library books, one unpaid parking ticket, lived with his mom and twelve year old sister.

I did my research.

Mr.Miller's bookstore was small and smelled like dust, paper, and spearmint. Behind the counter sat an aloof Silas, one hand caught in his hair as he read what seemed to be a comic book. He didn't as much as look up as I walked into the store, not that he would've recognized me.

My naturally hazel eyes were sporting dark brown contacts and my curly hair was pulled back into a hat. The small scar on my right cheek was concealed with makeup. 

Another day, another disguise.

Running my fingers across the spines of the endless books, I walked from one aisle to the next, until I reached the fantasy section.

Books upon books about princesses and princes and witches and warlocks were stacked messily on top of each other. A faint smile conquered my lips.

At one point in my life, fairy-tales were my favorite. No one who knew me would ever believe that, but I, like every other little girl, did dream about a Happily Ever After.

Until I learned how to render someone unconscious within five seconds.

After that, Happily Ever Afters just seemed like the hopes and dreams of the naive.. 

People read about them in order to consolidate for the fact that they never got theirs.

Quietly, I walked towards the other end of the store, not enjoying the nostalgia that was brought about by short-lived childhood memories. My gaze landed on the giant clock above the shelves.

9:50p.m.

I had been in the bookstore observing him for about ten minutes and decided that I'd approach him outside after his shift was over.

He obviously liked to keep to himself, but I knew that my approach had to be somewhat intimidating. Growing up, I'd learned not to judge a book by its cover. And in this scenario, my mother's journal was involved, so I couldn't take any chances with Silas.

In one quick motion, I pushed over a small stack of books, startling Silas and bringing him out of his trance.

"Wha--uh, who's there?" He walked cautiously around the desk and towards the mess, his eyes darting around the store, skin pale.

I hadn't meant to startle him; I just needed to distract him so that I could slip out of the door by his desk. His gaze darted towards the mess, but he didn't spot me, as I hid behind the shelves. He jumped up from his seat and began walking towards the books on the ground, his curls bouncing with each step. I moved silently behind the bookshelves and made my way towards the door, slipping out into the frigid night.

The air was cold, biting at my bare neck as I stood against the brick exterior, my back against the wall. Cars drove past every minute or so, music emanated from a bar down the street, and the laughter of the children could be heard, but still it felt like I wasn't quite alive. 

Surreal was the word.

I felt like an outsider, watching a naive world crumble.

Quiet whistling brought me out of my thoughts and I slowed my breathing so that my presence became silent. Silas stumbled out of the door, locking it swiftly and tucking the keys behind his pocket.

He was whistling a tune, one that was familiar but I couldn't quite place a finger on.

I watched him begin to walk away, kicking rocks at his feet, a backpack slung over his shoulder.

He looked at peace, unaware of his surroundings, unaware of the storm that he had brewed.

My heart was racing, unsure if I wanted to see his eyes—the ones that would remind me of the night that smoke filled my lungs. The only thing worse than dying for me was almost dying, and although I had gambled with my life many times before, that was the first time I ever did it on purpose.

When we reached a part of the street that lacked any sign of life, I made my move.

Silas was several inches taller than me, but I had taken on men twice his size before.

I threw one hand over his mouth to stifle any screams, and with one swift movement, I brought his wrists together behind his back and cuffed them with sleek handcuffs.

My movements were too fast for him to retaliate or even resist, and within a second, his back was pushed against a wall, his familiar wide eyes were locked onto mine, and his legs stopped thrashing when I put both of my feet on top of his, digging my heels into his toes, warning him to stop moving.

Either Silas was way stronger than he seemed, or the effects of the fire on my health had not worn off, because my arms began to felt weak, my muscles aching.

Ignoring the pain, I kept one hand covering his mouth and grabbed his collar with my fist, pushing him as far against the wall as I could.

"Don't make a sound," I whispered, warning him with my eyes. His heart was pounding against my palm, and I watched his expression change from one of terror to confusion. He blinked hard and opened his eyes. 

No longer resisting, he nodded his head slightly.

I dropped my hand from where it was covering his mouth, but kept the other one on his collar.

"Who do you work for?"

My voice was low, almost a growl. The same instincts that had been instilled into me now conquered my mind, which was deep in interrogation mode. Even when I tried to fight these instincts—I couldn't.

Silas shook his head, blinking rapidly. His thick glasses shifted slightly, sitting unevenly on the bridge of his nose.

"Mr.Mill—I work for Mr.Miller," he stuttered.

I knew that he couldn't possibly be harmless, but I wasn't interested in being gentle. I wanted the journal. I didn't care about this scared, clumsy boy.

Before I could ask anything else, he gasped, trying to step forward, but I pushed him so that he was against the wall again, his hands behind him. He winced in pain.

"You're her." He inhaled sharply. "You're the girl from Cherry's. How did you f--find me?"

I narrowed my eyes, wanting to go back in time and hit myself for even stopping by his table that night. If I hadn't, then none of this would have happened. I would have gotten exactly what I wanted.

It was unlike me to make such a stupid mistake.

"I'll be asking the questions." I tightened my fist around his collar, growing closer to him so that our faces were just inches apart.

"Where is the journal?"

He licked his lips, averting his gaze. Beads of sweat were forming on his forehead, glistening in the night.

Before he could answer, the burner phone in my back pocket began ringing. There was only one person who knew how to contact me, and if she was calling, it meant that this was serious.

Keeping my arm on Silas's chest, I narrowed my eyes, warning him to stay quiet.

"Europa?" I whispered into the phone, my voice trembling the slightest bit. I knew that my past was not one I could ignore, but I didn't know if I was ready to hear Maya's voice.

"Jupiter. Now."

Her voice was hard, unwavering. With just those two words, she hung up, leaving me feeling small. I felt smaller than the world I once looked down upon, smaller than my past, and even smaller than the boy who I had pinned to a wall.

"Meet me tomorrow in front of River Park at noon sharp. Bring the journal."

He nodded, wide eyes not once blinking. He opened his mouth to speak, but decided against it. He was smarter than I thought.

"And if you tell anyone about this, Silas, you will regret it."

I let him go, seeing the color return to his face. To my surprise, he did not scream, leaving me wondering. I didn't understand why he didn't shout for help the second he could. Instead, he stared at me, curiosity dripping from his features. 

In one swift movement, I unlocked his handcuffs and stepped back, watching as he brought his hands up, rubbing his reddened wrists. My heart racing, I began to retreat while he stood still, probably stunned from what he just endured.

I spun on my heel, the wind blowing my long, curly hair away from my face. Maya's call was urgent, but a part of my wanted to ask Silas so many questions. Why did he save me? Why didn't he resist when I basically assaulted him? And why was he standing there, still staring at me with wonderment in his eyes?

"Wait!"

His voice was still shaky, his shoes making a splash as he stepped right into the puddle in front of him. He didn't seem to be bothered.

He ran his hands through his hair, keeping a distance, but I didn't have time; nor did I have the patience.

Ignoring him, I turned around and ran down the street and into the night, unsure of what the future held for me.

I always knew what I was doing. Never was there a moment where I felt unsure or lacked confidence, but now, I did not have a plan for the future. 

And that scared me.

I didn't know what tonight held for me, or tomorrow, or the day after. All I knew for sure was that G.O.L.D. was looking for me, as were several other dangerous individuals. I had destroyed one of their headquarters—that was unforgivable, but not my worst crime. I had their secrets, the ones that would be their undoing, in the palm of my hands. 

Well, in Silas's for now.

For the first time in my life, I was scared of the future.