Page 35 of White Noise

He doesn’t rush.

That somehow scares me more.

His boots hit the floor in slow, measured steps while every screen he passes glitches, white static blooming across them for a second before disappearing again. He could close the distance between us in seconds if he wanted to. The fact that he doesn’t makes it obvious this isn’t about catching me.

He wants me to feel him coming.

Silas’s mouth curves as he starts around the island, slow and deliberate, forcing me to move if I want to keep the counter between us.

“After all that time you spent convincing yourself I was some pathetic fuck hiding behind a screen, I figured you’d be happier to find out how wrong you were.”

His eyes drag over me with arrogant amusement.

“No basement. No greasy little creep jerking off to your streams. No credit card in one hand, begging for five more minutes like the rest of those needy fucks.”

He takes another step.

“I’m real.”

My stomach tightens.

“And unlike them, I didn’t pay for the privilege of looking at you.”

His expression darkens.

“I found you.”

The static behind him snaps across the television.

“I stayed.”

Another step.

“And now I’m standing in your fucking house while every lock you trusted answers to me.”

“You crawled out of a television. Forgive me for not throwing you a welcome party.”

Silas laughs, low and cold.

“That mouth of yours really does work overtime when you’re scared.”

“I’m not scared.”

“Sure.”

The way he says it makes my skin prickle.

He brushes two fingers over the cut near his eye, almost absently, then looks back at me with a slow, mocking smile.

“You still think any of this puts us on equal footing?”

He starts around the island before I can answer, taking his time because he knows I’ll move. I do, keeping the counter between us while his attention stays locked on me.

“Those pathetic fucks who sit behind their screens throwing money at you?” His expression twists with disgust. “I’ve listened to them beg. Watched them type your name like they know you because you smiled at them for five fucking minutes.”

His jaw flexes.

“They’re nothing.” I keep moving, but his pace controls mine. “They were fucking pathetic maggots feeding off whatever scraps you’d give them.”