Chapter 369
Chapter 369:
Silas grunted. “Good. The kitchen is downstairs. Make me a gnocchi. If it’s edible, we talk business. If not, you leave p>
Alistair started to protest. “Grandfather, this is ridiculous p>
“Quiet, boy,” Silas snapped. “I want to see if she has hands that work, or if she’s afraid to break a nail p>
I stood up. I took off my blazer and rolled up the sleeves of my silk blouse.
“Show me the kitchen,” I said.
The kitchen was massive, copper pots hanging from the ceiling. It smelled of sage and garlic. I found the flour. I found the eggs.
I didn’t use the mixer. I poured the flour onto the wooden counter, making a well for the eggs. I mixed it with my fingers, feeling the dough come together. It was therapeutic. The repetitive motion calmed my nerves.
Silas watched from a stool in the corner, silent as a gargoyle.
I worked the dough until it was smooth. I made a filling of roasted meat and herbs I found in the pantry. I shaped the little pillows of dough with care.
Thirty minutes later, I placed a steaming bowl in front of him. Just simple butter and sage sauce. No fancy garnishes.
Silas picked up his fork. He took a bite. He chewed slowly, his eyes closed.
Alistair watched him, holding his breath.
Silas swallowed. He opened his eyes. They were watery.
“Too much salt,” he grumbled.
“It’s seasoned properly,” I argued. “Your taste buds are just dead from age p>
Alistair choked on air.
Silas stared at me. Then a slow, crooked smile spread across his face.
“She has fire,” Silas said to Alistair. “And the pasta… it reminds me of my mother p>
He pushed the bowl away, though he’d eaten half of it. “You pass,” Silas said.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small object. He tossed it across the table.
I caught it. It was a heavy silver pin—the Thorne Crest. A wolf and a shield.
“Wear it,” Silas commanded. “It tells the city you are under my protection. Even Dominic won’t dare touch you when you wear that p>
𝗢n𝘭у c𝗼𝗺рl𝗲𝘁𝘦𝗱 𝘯ov𝘦𝗅𝘴 о𝗇 𝘣𝗲.сo𝘮
“Thank you,” I said, pinning it to my blouse.
“Don’t thank me yet,” Silas said, his face turning serious again. “Protection comes with a price. If you fail… if you let Graves win… I will disown Alistair. And I will crush Oracle myself. We do not back losers p>
“I won’t fail,” I said.
“See that you don’t.” Silas stood up. “Now get out. I want to finish my pasta in peace p>
We walked back to the car. Alistair looked like he had survived a bomb defusal.
“He likes you,” Alistair said, shaking his head in disbelief. “He actually likes you p>
“He likes my pasta,” I corrected. “There’s a difference p>
“With Silas? Not really p>
We got in the car. I touched the silver pin on my chest. It felt heavy. It felt like armor.
“One step closer,” I whispered.
The drive back to the city was faster. They had the old man’s blessing, or at least his reluctant tolerance. But the mood shifted as they hit the city limits.
Skye’s phone buzzed with a “Red Alert” notification from Julian.
He’s here.
“Graves?” Alistair asked, seeing her expression.
“He landed an hour ago,” Skye said, reading the report. “Private jet. He bypassed customs—diplomatic immunity via a connection in the consulate. He’s staying at the penthouse of the Dominion Hotel p>