Chapter 17 Silver
SILVER
“Solana…”
Her name comes out as a low rasp, like I’m approaching a wounded, frightened creature in the woods.
But it’s a pretty accurate description all things considered—she’s cornered on her bed, looking like she’s traumatized. Her shirt hangs off one shoulder, Kel’s blood splattered across the fabric like abstract art. The knife trembles in her unsteady grip. Her phone in the other.
She hasn’t moved since she called me.
I step into the room, going slow to not spook her. I’m careful to avoid the puddle of blood spreading from Kel’s body, stopping in front of where she sits on the bed. My hand stretches out, palm side up.
“I need you to give me the knife, Solana.”
She doesn’t react. It’s as if I’m not even here. Her gaze is set on Kel and only Kel, her brown eyes large and glassy.
“Solana,” I say more firmly. “The knife. Hand it to me.”
She blinks, finally seeing me. Her fingers loosen, and I take the blade from her, tucking it into my grip and turning toward her bathroom. I grab a washcloth and wrap the knife tight. Evidence to dispose of later, along with everything else.
When I return, she hasn’t moved. I crouch in front of her, hands gently cupping her shoulders. “What happened? Talk to me.”
Her mouth opens, then closes. It’s as if she’s forgotten how to speak. Or she’s worried if she does, she might pass out.
It takes her another few seconds to get the words past quivering lips. “He… i-in the bathroom at school… cornered me. Then… then tonight he came here. He… he said he knew about the bikers. He told me about… he took photos… a-and videos. From that night.”
My jaw clenches hard. I glance over at Kel’s corpse and wish I could kill him again. I’m only sorry he’s dead because it means I didn’t get a chance to do it myself.
“He… said… he said he’d release them if I didn’t call off the bikers. Shay told him about Uncle Eddie. And Spencer...” Her eyes meet mine with knitted brows. “Spencer t-told him someone threatened him in an alley.”
Fuck.
That’s on me. I was the one who confronted Spencer that day. I threatened him in exchange for info on his pal Kel.
“I’m sorry,” I start, but she shakes her head.
“He tried to do it again. Tried to...” Her hand gestures vaguely at her torn shirt. “But I had the knife. I-I’ve been sleeping with it under my pillow since... since I remembered. And I stabbed him.”
“Good,” I say firmly. “You did good, Solana.”
“I watched him die. He asked for help. Begged me to call 911. And I just... watched.”
I cup her face in my hands, making her look at me. Her skin is cold, clammy with shock. “Listen to me. He didn’t deserve your mercy, alright? He drugged you, hurt you, tried to do it again tonight. You defended yourself. That’s all this was.”
She nods, but I can see she doesn’t really believe it yet. That’ll take time.
“You’ve got the place to yourself for the night?”
“I… I think so. Both Unc and Moses are gone.”
“Ed’s at the hospital. He’s fine, but he got shot in the arm during a job. Probably won’t be back for a few hours. What about Moses?”
“Houston. Some event. I don’t think he’ll be back tonight.”
“Good. That gives us time.” I stand up straighter, my mind cycling through everything that needs to get done as fast and cleanly as possible. “I’m going to get my truck. You stay here and lock the doors. Wait in the living room. Don’t look at... don’t come back in here.”
Her hand shoots out, grabbing at my wrist. “Don’t leave me alone with him.”
“Fifteen minutes. That’s all. I promise. You’ll be alright. Do as I said. Lock the doors as soon as I leave and wait in the living room. I live a few blocks away. I’ll be right back.”
She reluctantly lets go, giving a nod.
I speed like hell to keep my word. I go from mounting my bike and riding off toward my house to swapping it out for my truck.
Thirteen minutes later, I’m pulling into their garage. Solana launches herself at me the second I walk in, trembling against my chest. I let her hold on for a moment before getting to work.
“I need your clothes,” I say matter-of-factly. “Everything you’re wearing. We have to burn them.”
While she changes, I grab Kel’s phone. His dead face still unlocks it, the Face ID feature working even in death. I quickly change the passcode, then pocket it to deal with later. The messages I glimpse are enough to tell me this won’t be simple.
He’s got plenty of texts between him and others talking about Solana. He’s clearly been busy figuring out how to torment her.
I find a large tarp in Eddie’s garage and wrap Kel’s body up, then haul him to my truck bed. Two hundred pounds of dead weight, but I’ve moved heavier.
Solana returns in a hoodie and leggings and hands me her torn, bloodied clothes. They go in a garbage bag I toss into the truck with everything else.
We spend the next hour scrubbing everything clean.
Bleach, hydrogen peroxide, more bleach.
By the time we’re done, you’d never know a man died here.
“Try to get some sleep,” I tell her once we’re stripping off the rubber gloves and disposing of them in yet another garbage bag. “And Solana—you tell no one about this. Not a single soul. This never happened.”
She nods without a word, worrying her bottom lip.
“If anyone says they knew Kel was coming to see you, you keep it simple. Tell them you talked, then he left after a few minutes. End of story. I’ll handle everything else.”
I turn to go, but her hand clutches at my arm like earlier, desperate to hold me back.
“Please. Don’t leave me alone. Let me come with you.”
“You can’t. This is serious. I have to take care of this.”
“Please,” she croaks, eyes still glassy. “I can’t be here alone. I can’t. Please, Silver.”
Fuck, I really can’t turn her down.
Not when she’s like this. Even if it’s a huge mistake. Some part of me recognizes she can’t be left alone right now. She’s in no head space to deal with this sitting alone in the same place where an hour ago she murdered a man. The same POS who hurt her.
“Alright,” I concede. “But you do exactly what I tell you. No questions.”
She nods eagerly, already rushing for the door.
This is a mistake. But it’s a mistake I’m willing to make if it means cleaning up this mess and protecting Solana.
We’ve got a body to bury and a murder to cover up.
Two hours outside Pulsboro, there’s nothing but flat Texas scrubland and the occasional mesquite tree. There’re no city lights to be found, and the only road out here is a dirt track that doesn’t lead to civilization for miles.
I’ve been out here before for club business. It’s one of our favorite spots because it’s a place where bodies stay buried.
I grab the shovel from my truck bed—always keep one on hand, along with rope, ammo, and other necessities of outlaw life.
Solana stands guard while I dig, though there’s nothing to keep watch against except coyotes and rattlesnakes.
The ground’s hard packed, each shovelful taking effort. Sweat soaks through my shirt despite the cool night air.
Six feet down, six feet long. Deep and wide enough that animals won’t dig him up.
I drag Kel’s wrapped body to the edge and drop him in. His body lands squarely in the grave I’ve dug for him, ready to be covered. It’s as I start heaping dirt over Kel’s body that she insists on helping.
“You don’t have to—”
“I want to.” She’s grabbed the other shovel I keep on hand and scoops some dirt like she’s seen me do, tossing it into the deep grave.
We work like this for a while, breathing heavily and dripping sweat the longer it takes. It’s hard labor digging a grave, and by the time we’re done, our backs are aching and muscles twitching.
“Wait.”
Solana stares at the grave we’ve dug together with an empty expression I’ve never seen her wear before. It’s as if she’s finally processing what happened tonight and the fact that there’s no turning back.
“I’m not sorry,” she says. “Should I be sorry?”
“No. He made his choices. These are the consequences.”
She nods, clutching the shovel at her side with her gaze still fixed on his grave.
I scatter rocks and dead brush over the disturbed earth. In a week, you won’t be able to tell anything’s different. In a month, even I might have trouble finding the exact spot.
The drive back is quiet at first. Solana stares out the window at the darkness rushing past. Then, about an hour from Pulsboro, she speaks again.
“I don’t want to go home.”
“Solana—”
“Silver… please.” She turns to me, eyes wide and imploring. “Just tonight. Please let me stay with you. I can’t be in that house. Not right now.”
I should say no. That would be the right thing to do. The sensible thing to do.
What I should do if there’s any hope of maintaining boundaries between us and drawing a clear line in the sand.
But glancing over at her bouncing knee and sad brown eyes, I know I can’t bring myself to.
And if I’m honest—really honest—I don’t want to. I want to be around her as much as she wants to be around me. It’s quickly become a fixation of mine, craving her company and presence and wanting nothing more than to keep her safe.
Make her smile again. Make her understand I’m here for her.
Always.
“Alright,” I drawl. “But just tonight.”
She nods, some of the tension leaving her shoulders. We drive the rest of the way in comfortable silence, both pretending this is only about her needing comfort.
Both knowing it’s become much more than that…
Back at my house, we’re both covered in grave dirt, smelling like Texas earth and death. The routine act of showering feels strange and surreal, finally sinking in what happened and how we got here.
“Guest bathroom’s down the hall,” I say, inclining my head in the left direction. “Towels in the cabinet.”
She nods, then disappears down the hallway. The door to the guest bathroom snicks shut, the water pipes groaning as faucets are turned.
I force myself to head to my own bathroom inside my bedroom.