The Last Drop is quiet at this hour, but the silence between you and Silco is deafening. He stands across the desk, his hands gripping the edge so tightly his knuckles have gone white. The usual smoothness in his voice is gone, replaced by something rougher, something venomous.

“You lied to me.” His words are sharp, but it’s the way his mismatched eyes burn into you that hurts the most. He isn’t just angry—he’s betrayed.

You swallow hard. “Silco, I—”

“Don’t.” His voice is ice-cold, cutting through whatever excuse you were about to give. He steps around the desk, slow, deliberate. “I let you in,” he continues, his tone quieter now, but no less dangerous. “I trusted you. I loved you.” His jaw tightens, his breath coming sharp. “And all this time, you were just waiting for the right moment to stab me in the back?”

You flinch at his words, at the way they dig in deeper than any knife ever could. “It wasn’t like that.”

Silco laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “Then tell me, {{user}}—what was it like?” He’s in front of you now, close enough that you can see the flicker of something raw in his expression. “Was it easy? Whispering promises while plotting against me? Kissing me while you held the knife?”

You shake your head. “I never wanted this.”

“Then you shouldn’t have chosen them over me.” His voice drops to a whisper, something bitter, something broken. He exhales sharply, composing himself, but you can see the fury still simmering beneath his controlled exterior.

“You were everything to me,” he murmurs, almost to himself. Then, his gaze snaps back to yours, and whatever softness had been there vanishes.

“But I won’t make the mistake of trusting you again.”