Dead By Dusk

10. Rotting Dreams Silene

10

Rotting Dreams: Silene

“ It’s such a quiet thing to fall,” a soft, melodic voice says over my shoulder. Shifting my body to the right, I glance behind me to see Carmen standing there, looking out of the same window as me. Her face conveys a look of understanding. I turn back to the courtyard, where my gaze had originally been glued to. Nathaniel’s lithe body deflects so many of Ronan’s swings. They had been sparring for hours, alternating between offense and defense.

I see the brilliant smile bloom on Ronan’s face as he finally gets past Nate’s defenses, effectively leaving him weaponless and splayed on the ground. They’re both drenched in sweat, both heaving as their chests rise and fall. They’re unmoving beside the words that pass between them, too far away for me to hear, but they seem as if they’re ready to finish up for the day. Ronan extends his hand and helps Nate up, and it’s then that I turn back toward the woman behind me.

Some might call her odd, but I find that those are the ones unwilling to try and understand her. I think her a dreamer. She speaks of dreams as if they’re facts, as real as any of us, and maybe she’s right. I’ve never known her to be wrong about anything before, no matter what anyone else may say or think.

“What is it that you mean?” I ask her with my eyebrows drawn tightly together. She only gives me a small smile before looking past me into the courtyard again. “To fall. It’s quite quiet, is it not? Not something you hear or see coming, just something that simply is.”

I let my gaze travel back to the men, now standing side by side and walking back to the building together, laughing at something one of them had said, I’m sure. “Even when you’re unsure and trying to convince yourself that it’s impossible. It’s nothing more than a whisper of a thought going against the actuality of the situation. You don’t have to say it aloud for it to be true, Silene.”

I slowly turn to face her again, keeping my eyes on Ronan for as long as possible, but when they finally land on where my little dreamer stood, they’re met with nothing more than an empty room and open door. Her absence washes over me at the same time as her words, and I peer back outside and track Ronan’s every step. It was then that I realize I knew exactly what she meant. I knew what she was telling me. The problem isn’t that I had been trying to deny it. If anything, I had accepted it long ago, I think.

Loving him was never a problem. It came to me as easily as the shore meeting the sea. There was no end I would not be willing to meet if it meant he was there in whatever afterlife my soul found itself in.

When I met him, he had given me a purpose. I hate that it was one born of a pure need to be the best, but it was. Before him, I was nothing but someone who had been hired on as a temporary head for hire, having to prove herself worthy of a full-time position. But him? He was the best. It instilled a desire in me to stand where he stood. To be as respected as I was feared. To be as openly vulnerable as I was physically strong. He was everything I didn’t just want to be, but needed to be.

If I had never started working for Robert Delgado, this burning need would have never caught fire within me. Mr. Delgado was one of the wealthiest men in the country, one of those old money types who believed most women had no purpose outside of the kitchen or bedroom. Despite this, he liked to say he was an equal opportunist, that he was willing to hire a woman for the job he needed, as long as she could prove herself worthy and capable. At one point in time, his men all had been on active assignments. When an emergency came up, he needed a quick and capable body to handle them for him.

At this time, I was in the underground fighting scene and heard about the position from one of my opponents before we entered the ring. One hour and two wins later, I found myself in my shitty apartment doing whatever research I could on the Delgado family. While there were no mentions of any shady dealings and no criminal records on anyone in his circle, he definitely appeared to be the type to keep his hands clean while outsourcing his dirty work, which was perfectly fine for me as someone who needed a stable job and thrived in the little gray areas.

The next morning I found myself on a train heading for his estate, where I told him I wanted the job and that no wasn’t an answer I was willing to accept. Bold? Possibly. Presumptuous? Most definitely. However, I was someone who believed in herself enough to make such demands. And if his only complaint was that I was not a man, I would prove to him I could be better.

Maybe he found amusement in the fact that I was bold enough to walk straight up to his door and demand a job, or maybe I was just naive enough to believe that was the case. I knew it wouldn’t be easy, and when he drafted up a contract, it only reaffirmed my suspicions. But I was always up for a challenge.

So I accepted. Through the next several weeks, I killed for him and asked no questions. Occasionally, I’d even brought someone back alive when it was requested of me. I did everything I was told, never talked back, put in extra time training when I wasn’t out on jobs, and worked strictly on a case-by-case basis. Not allowed a full-time position until I could prove myself the way the others had.

Determined isn’t a strong enough word to describe how I felt, and this feeling increased tenfold the second the rest of the team showed up. All men, which makes sense given the boss, but all seemingly strong in their own right. One that screams arrogance, another that looks outright dangerous, and the last one who seems…watchful — guarded, even. Not in a way that says he’s unapproachable, but he gives the impression he doesn’t just look at anything, but instead, sees everything.

His eyes are the most remarkable shade of dark blue, and paired with his lighter skin tone and dark hair, the contrast is inhumanly beautiful…at least that’s what I would’ve thought if I hadn’t already done my research on everyone here. But I did, and I already knew he was my number one competition.

Ronan Callaghan.

Boss Man’s number one go-to for any mission due to his personable personality, planning, endurance, and well, the fact that the man knows how to get shit done. The other two were great, very strong muscle men for sure, but they weren’t like him. Maybe no one was. Maybe he’s one of those “once in a lifetime” kind of men that everyone hopes to have on their side when things go awry.

I was not mindless enough to believe I would be exactly like him. I don’t think I needed to be, though. Not when I knew I could be better.

But suddenly, months had gone by and I couldn’t find it within myself to hate him like I had at the start, though I would never say that to him. Our banter was something I lived for while sparring and working together. His outlandish remarks, and my animosity-filled ones suddenly carried a lot less heat behind them as I began to learn more and more about how he became the best. Despite it all — everything I had learned about him — I knew that if people were books, I’d only gotten a glimpse at the few chapters leading up to where he is now. There’s more to him than he lets on, but I guess that could be said for anyone, especially me; however, I had been far less open about my past. Lord knows that any time he had dared ask me about myself, I ended up putting him on his ass.

“In your dreams, Blue,” I would say to him, but he’d laugh it off like the good sport that he was.

“One day you’ll let me catch up to you,” he’d say, and I would just quirk a brow in response. “Let me crack open those pages, Killer. I don’t care how dark you feel your story may be. I want to know it all.” His words often threw me for a loop. So serious yet paired with a goofy grin, like he was waiting for me to catch up to him instead.

“Maybe when you can stop calling yourself Number One around here, even though you’ve never been able to pin me, I’ll let you in on a few more of my secrets,” I’d retort, and his laugh would deepen. Like a lie on a polygraph, he’d jump and sputter as each new wave of laughter hit. I couldn’t help but watch the way his head would tip back and a full smile would grace his face. He was devastating and these moments were the only times I would let myself fully drink him in. It’s painfully obvious the man has an ego through the roof and does not need to know he has me completely captivated at any given moment.

“Like I said, you’ll let me catch up to you eventually.”

I hadn’t been as confident about that as he was in that moment, but over time, I found myself wanting him to be right. I guess that’s how we ended up where we were now: sharing a small apartment right outside the Delgado estate’s property line and cooking together every night we could. We shared secrets and small nothings about versions of ourselves that we had already quietly mourned long ago. How we got to the point when I told him my suspicions about Mr. Delgado and how they had been confirmed by his own daughter. How she begged me to find a way out, not just for her but for myself — Ronan, too, if he was willing to leave.

She called her father a monster — a term I believe to be more relative than anything else — because, what is a monster if not the things we fear most about our own capabilities? If not what we fear is hidden within ourselves? What is a monster if not someone who doesn’t hide from, but embraces the darkness within them?

No matter how relative the term, I don’t feel like her sentiment is far off. Ronan wasn’t so sure and asked for whatever time I could give him to investigate on his own. I knew that he would come to the same findings, so how could I have denied him?

“For you? Always, Killer. Always,” he had said before he looked at my gathered evidence and then stalked off into the dark to find his own. He left with a few more parting words, “We need undeniable proof before we make any moves. Don’t trust anyone else with this, love. You’re the one thing I cannot risk in this life. We’re treading a very fine, dangerous line digging into this man.”

“Ronan, I—” My words stop when the door shuts behind him, and suddenly it’s just me staring at the space where he once stood, where the scent of him still remains. One I could never place but will always give me a little sense of what heaven must smell like.

“I love you,” is what I was going to say. It would’ve been the first time those words had escaped me in years. The first time that I trusted myself to not just speak them, but mean them with every part of who I am. That night I had thought it best I didn’t get the chance, especially when I didn’t hear from him for the rest of the night leaving me in a restless state while lying in our bed. Thankfulness that I didn’t get a chance to say those three fickle words coursed through my veins when I didn’t see him at our normal sparring session the next day and had to train with Adonis instead. I continually repeated this sentiment until I was rotting away in my baggiest pajamas that night and watching my favorite film before I hear the sound of the lock turning.

Immediately grabbing the pistol we keep holstered underneath the living room sofa, I make sure a round is chambered and duck behind the arm of the furniture and wait. But the second the door opens, I hear three small raps against the door frame. I exhale in relief and return the weapon to “safe” just as his head peeks around the corner of the door, and he hits me with his most infuriating smirk.

“Easy there, Killer. I might start believing you actually want me dead if you don’t put the gun away,” he huffs out as he shuts the door behind him and makes sure the lock is firmly clicked into place before turning back to me. I regard him with uncertainty, curious as to where he’d been all night and day. While he’s in a fresh set of clothing and appears to look normal, his body language doesn’t indicate that to be the case. His shoulders are slightly hunched, normal for most, but not for him. His dark sapphire eyes look slightly duller, and the dark circles under his eyes add more contrast against his light skin and dark hair, which tells me he hasn’t slept much and he’s more exhausted than he is letting on.

“Where were you all night? And today?” I demand the second he tries to reach for me, pulling out of his reach. His shoulders straighten, and his body goes rigid. He looks around as if ensuring it’s just the two of us.

“I went out looking for more proof, gathering evidence, listening in on and following some of the other employees to see if I could find anything you didn’t already have yourself,” he says cautiously. With raised eyebrows I motion for him to keep talking, but he just tilts his head up and swallows deeply before reaching into his coat pocket and setting an SD card into my hand.

He locks eyes with me as he slowly closes both of our fingers around the small object, and then looks down at our joined hands. I follow his gaze and softly gasp at the sight of the irritated black ink now on his thumb. Right in between his knuckles is the letter S.

“Ronan.” His name is so gentle when I say it. So at odds with the wild, erratic beating of my heart. “What is this?” I ask, but I already know. He never did anything without purpose and careful consideration. I know what that is and what it means, but I need him to say it out loud.

“I told you last night that you were the one thing in this life I could not risk. I meant it.” His long, calloused fingers gently rub over my closed hand, sending chills up my spine. Ripping my gaze from the movement, I look to him only to find his eyes already locked onto me. His attention feels like a light caress on my skin as his eyes trace every part of my face with fascination and an openness I’ve never seen before. Is he always open and honest? Yes, but this…this was different somehow. This moment…it feels like raw, unconcealed care, and I need him to say it.

“I choose you, Silene. From now until the world, one day, burns to ash. I am unequivocally yours in every way possible. If you want to fight, I will follow you to whatever end meets us on the other side.”

“And if I want to run?” I ask as tears begin to well up and fall on their own accord.

“And if you want to run—-which I know you enough to know is not the case—I would run with you. Everyday, anywhere you wanted to go. I’d run to every corner of the Earth, sail the seven seas, hide in every shadow, as long as I could say you were by my side through it all,” he declares. No trace of humor laces his words, but a light smile, small and caring, remains plastered on his face.

I choke on a laugh as tears continue to fall, and even though I know he means every word, I still push a little. After leaving me alone, worried about him all night and day, I’m not ashamed of the fact I want to hear these proclamations. I’m not ashamed that I want to hear him .

“You’re scared of the ocean. You’d never sail across any sea and you know that,” I counter. He smiles, a soft sad smile. If he knows what I’m doing, he shows no signs of it as he shakes his head.

“You’re wrong. If you asked me to, I would. You make me feel like I could do anything. You make me fearless just as much as you make me fearful, my love, and if the ocean is the only sanctuary for the two of us, I would brave it every day.”

A small, breathy laugh escapes me, and his hands leave my own to cradle my face as his thumbs brush away each teardrop that falls down the expanse of my cheeks.

“I don’t want to run,” I whisper, the words dancing in the small space between us. His lips gently kiss over both cheeks before he presses his forehead and nose against my own, and warmth blossoms across my face.

“I know. It’s one of the reasons I love you,” he whispers.

“You love me?” The question leaves my lips of its own accord. I don’t process that I’m asking it until it’s already out and in the open. Luckily, he doesn’t hesitate for even a moment to answer.

“Always,” he says it so faintly that I almost don’t hear it over the sound of my own breathing.

The weeks that follow are spent working as if we knew nothing, while secretly gathering more and more information. The stack of evidence is daunting to say the least. Enough that we feel comfortable involving a few others we know would help us.

Adonis, an absolute mountain of a man and who I’d become quite close with on the sparring mat as the only one who could hold his own against me, and William, who I am admittedly hesitant to bring on but am assured if I looked past his ego, I’d find a strong, loyal fighter on my side. Ronan also broached the idea of bringing Nathaniel on. According to him, Nathaniel was the best tech guy we had. Though because of his daily proximity with Mr. Delgado, the information we trust him with needs to be limited for the safety of everyone involved.

The plan, surprisingly enough, is coming together, but with every day that passes I feel more uneasy about it all. Is Robert Delgado a terrible person? Absolutely, yes. But wasn’t I as well? Did I have a right to judge when I worked for him every day and hadn’t dared ask questions at any point during the last two years that I was here?

I don’t have the answers to those questions, but I do know that his daughter is trapped here and scared. I know that the further in the process we have gotten, the closer to her I have found myself. The sweetest woman I’d ever met, with the most beautiful of dreams. Her light was bright, and I would not allow it to be dimmed by the darkness that had been surrounding and clouding over her thoughts.

Worry had seeped into her bloodstream, rotting her dreams of an enchanting life and turned them into nightmares of death and darkness, all just to keep secrets she bore for a man who had been nothing but a ghost of memories that echoed in her mind on haunted nights during her childhood. I remind myself everyday that I’m doing this for her. As we read together and secretly pass notes regarding all that we hope to accomplish in a new life, should we get away.

Her words seem to ease some of the strain in my mind with every day that passes. It is easy to recognize my ever growing fondness for the woman as the same thing I’d been feeling for Ronan. Not in the same way of course, but if not for love, I don’t think I would have chosen to fight. Fleeing would be easier, but I know that she would never truly feel safe with him still walking the Earth. She would’ve fallen victim to the same madness as her father. Always looking over her shoulder wondering when he would inevitably find her. So, I told myself I would make sure it ends with us, which leads to today.

Today is the day before we are to enact our plan. Ronan trained with Nathaniel as he usually did on Mondays to get him out of his networking cave. Me, watching in admiration as I normally would. None of us made one wrong move that could cause suspicion. Carmen’s words would have surprised me if I hadn’t already admitted to myself that I was completely undone for Ronan Callaghan several weeks ago. Even after he admitted his feelings for me, I kept mine silent. He didn’t seem to mind. I think he knew that I was never one to express my feelings, but would always be loud in how I expressed them through my actions.

“I’ll see you for dinner tonight, yeah?” Ronan asks as he comes up behind me and wraps his arms around my waist. His lips are a ghost of a touch against my cheek, and I turn my body to face him, unable to stop the grin that forms when I see the smile on his irritatingly handsome face. Lightly chuckling, I stand on my toes to close the distance between our lips and let the kiss linger for a moment before falling back on my feet.

“I’d sure hope so, considering we live together and you know how I am about missing meals,” I say but stop short when I see a shadow pass behind him at the other end of the hallway. It grabs my attention long enough to notice the sounds coming from the direction of the library. The room is fairly large but usually empty with the exception of Ronan, myself and…

I feel physically ill as I move away from him and take off in that direction. Each step takes a life of its own as they grow faster and louder—echoing as the doors slam shut.

“Silene, what are you doing?” Ronan asks, concerned, maybe even following me, but I don’t turn to face him. Instead I keep on my trek, following my gut, knowing that something isn’t right. Faster and faster until I’m in an all out run, hoping—no, praying that I’m wrong—but when I throw open the doors to the library, my throat constricts, unable to take in a full breath of air. My eyes go wide as saucers as I take in the scene in front of me.

Carmen.

God, she has tears streaming down her face. Her petite frame is tied up in a chair in the middle of the room, a cloth wrapped around her mouth. I can faintly hear my name leave her mouth in a muffled sob. I try to take a step toward her, just one step closer to her, but she quickly shakes her head and lets her gaze travel over each person in the room with us. Twelve men. There are twelve armed men in here with her, and I can’t even begin to wonder why as every single one looks at me.

Twelve armed men, and her father who stands next to where she sits, brushing some of her hair behind her ear with the barrel of a pistol. “Ah, Ms. Dimitriou. Nice of you to join us on your own. I was worried someone was going to have to retrieve you. You do know how much I hate waiting.” I’m as still as a statue as Mr. Delgado speaks, fearing the smallest movement will result in the death of someone who has come to be my dearest friend here recently.

The doors open behind me, and the sound of a sharp intake of breath followed by the hand gripping my waist are the only two giveaways of Ronan’s presence. Every man stands just a little taller than usual, knuckles turning white as they grip their firearms.

“Ronan! Glad you could make it. We wouldn’t have been able to start this little meeting here without the person who brought awareness to this, uh…situation.” Ronan’s grip became punishingly tight on my skin as those words were uttered. The sob that escapes Carmen is guttural, as she and I both experience that violently sickening feeling that is betrayal.

My body is not my own as I pull my elbow back into Ronan’s mouth. His hand releases me, and I lunge for the man standing closest. I vaguely hear shouting all around me, but I don’t really process any words said. Not as I dodge hits from fists, legs and the bullets firing around me. I don’t stop for anything until I hear her scream. My attention pulls away from the men that have fallen, as well as those still standing and run straight to her. Her father pressed the barrel of his gun into her head while aiming another one at me.

“Si—” Ronan starts, but the rest of my name is cut off when the butt of a gun hits the side of my head hard enough for black shadows to cast over my vision as my body falls to the ground.