Page 58 of White Noise

Silas steps through after it.

Slowly.

Calmly.

The scar across his eye is still there.

He straightens in front of the television and looks past Void, directly into the webcam.

At me.

His mouth curves.

“Mm, hello, Pretty echo.”

My blood goes cold.

Void backs toward the edge of the desk, eyes moving between Silas and the screen.

“Who the fuck are you?”

Silas finally looks at him, and the smile disappears. Void takes another step back just as Silas takes one forward.

“Run, Void.” I whisper. Void looks at me through the camera.

“What?”

“I said fucking run!”

Void lunges toward the edge of the frame, but Silas lets him get barely two steps before catching the back of his shirt and yanking him hard enough that the chair knocks sideways into the desk. Void turns too late. Silas shoves him back down into the seat, the webcam rattling from the impact while Void grips the armrests and tries to catch his breath.

Silas stands behind him without any urgency at all.

That’s what makes it worse.

There’s no panic in him, no rush, or any sign that any of this could possibly get away from him. His eyes drag over Void once, slow and openly insulting, stopping on cock, before his mouth curves.

“That’s what she was supposed to be impressed by?”

Void’s face goes red.

Silas lets out a low laugh. “Fuck. Three years of paying to watch her and you’ve been sitting there proud of yourself?”

“What the fuck are you?”

The amusement disappears from Silas’s face.

“Wrong answer.”

He reaches behind the desk and catches a fistful of cable, looping it around Void’s throat before Void can react. His hands fly up instantly, fingers digging beneath the cord as Silas pulls just enough to cut his breathing short.

“Silas.”

His eyes lift to the camera.

To me.

“Mm, hello, little echo.”