He feared in his bones that he’d give in if Dom asked, and Dom knew it and didn’t ask. Silas loved him more for that, with a heart so poorly suited and so unaccustomed to love that he felt it might burst its banks like one of London’s choked, fetid rivers. He had no idea what to do with what he felt. If you truly cared, you’d make him stop this before he runs his head into a noose. Silas told himself that every day. He might have been able to do it except that Dom had been left before, by that worthless, oversized prick who’d hurt him again and again, and Silas would not walk in that bastard’s
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