Romans & histoires Arcane Silco X Reader

“Hack in and pull the code without having to go there in person?” Lena’s mouth twitched in a grim smile. “If it were that easy, I’d have done it already. Bancroft’s servers are air-gapped—no external connections. You’d need to be physically inside the compound to access them.” “Well,” Drake said, clapping his hands together, “looks like we’re taking a little Arctic vacation.”

I raised my brow, listening intently. “She has a gift.” “What gift?” “She can read memories,” he revealed. “What did you just say?” I growled lowly. “She can see the past and the future of a person. All she has to do is hold their hands.” A wave of realization crashed over me. Red-haired. Witch. Memory reader. The pieces clicked into place. Silas’ witch. Lila. Rage simmered within me as I clenched my fists. Lila.

If I have anything to say about it, it will be. “Silas and Anica Tanner. I’ll explain when you get here.” “Whatever you say.” The link to Elian goes quiet, and I turn our new backstory over in my head. I’m Silas now, a twenty-five-year-old tanner drawn across the border from Dun’s Crossing during the Haze a few years ago who never went back. Anica—Xandra—is a year younger than me, a farmer’s daughter and scribe. Apparently, there’s a significant call for people who can write, and far less for those who can make leather, so the fact that I don’t possess that skill matters less.

His Alpha power was flickering, pinned down by the toxic frequency Julian had bled into the very stones of this tomb. ​"Silas, stay behind me," I hissed, my voice dropping into that heavy, vibrating tone that made the shadows crawl back and the stone floor tremble. I wasn't the scared secretary who had fainted at the first sight of his gold eyes anymore. I was the Anchor, and I was finally learning how to use the old power written in my blood. "They aren't real wolves. They’re hardware—machines made of metal and chemicals—and I am the one who controls the circuit."

Elara screamed, her pitch-black eyes cracking with a blinding, white-hot heat as the freezing pressure of the sterile white ink shot up her arms, threatening to bleach her core right out of her chest. ​"The asset is maintaining the unauthorized bond," the lead Proofer printed, its silver jaws clicking in unison as it forced the shears another inch through her alignment thread. "The proof must be rejected." ​"Not on my watch, you piece of tin!" ​A roar of raw, kinetic fury echoed from a hidden hatch at the edge of the glass floor. ​It wasn't Corin or Caspian. It was Silas, the second prince.

My library professor whose deep commanding voice made my thighs clench during lectures. The man I’d fantasized about bending me over these very tables and fucking me senseless until I can’t remember my name. I opened the book, and the dedication page read: For those who crave quiet darkness.” My breath hitched. I flipped to the next page and started reading. “She knelt before him in the silence of stacks, skirts pushed high, panties already soaked. “Read it out,” He ordered. “Every filthy word, while I taste how wet you’ve become for me.”

I stepped back, reaching for the bridge-line—the transparent tube that carried the filtered, nutrient-rich blood from Arthur’s body into Xander’s. "What are you doing?" Silas demanded, his finger tightening on the trigger. "You said the key is the Thorne-Vance bloodline," I said, my heart pounding so hard it felt like it would burst through my ribs. "But Xander’s body is currently being rewritten by Arthur’s cells. If you want the 'key,' it’s currently flowing through this tube. It’s not just in me. It’s in him." It was a lie. A desperate, mathematical gamble. But Silas was a man of greed, and greed makes men believe in miracles.

"You know what? You kind of remind me of an aunt-slapping me around while preaching about 'courtesy'." Sierra scoffed, eyeing me. "You wish I were your aunt." Without saying another word, I walked towards the car; Marco already held a door open for me. "Wait, Dante," Sierra came up next to me. "How do you feel about breakfast?" I shot her a look. "Doesn't Santini feed you glitter fairies?" Sierra bristled. "I was just going to buy you breakfast, but never mind." Then she started to walk away.

The cold wind cuts through the trees as I run—faster than I’ve ever run before. My paws dig into the forest floor, claws slicing through roots and debris. The scent of blood, fire, and fear is thick, clinging to every breath like ash. We are no longer hiding. No longer running. We are meeting death at the threshold and daring it to blink first. I am Silvara, born of divinity, forged in the underworld, and chosen by the Moon herself. I am not just Anika’s wolf—I am her wrath, her strength, her divine right.

asked Adrienne in a quiet but clear voice while she knelt on the ground before the corpse. “I’m Alaric Emrick, witch,” answered the man in a voice that almost sounded like a sneer. Adrienne simply looked at the trace of the man standing a few feet away from her, feeling pale. “Don’t you know me?” he said mocking her. “And that dhampir you are kneeling before you is my first cousin, Athan Silos.” At that moment, both Adrienne and Mary only wished one thing—that they would be swallowed by the ground under them and completely disappear forever.