Chapter 8 Silas
I was wound too tight all the time.
The unrelenting pressure sat in my chest like a lead weight, ever since seeing Lena’s ruined back.
Her scars weren’t clean or controlled. They were deep, uneven, carved into her flesh with blind, unfocused rage. There was no precision to them, no restraint. Just damage.
I knew what that looked like.
I’d spent years in interrogation rooms doing exactly what was needed to get answers.
Pain wasn’t something I avoided. It was my favorite tool.
One I understood and used without hesitation when the situation called for it.
Even when it didn’t, I used it anyway, just to bleed out the violence bubbling under my skin.
I’d never felt guilty about it. Never second-guessed it.
Until her.
I had walked into our workshop prepared to hurt Lena. To lay hands on her, to push, to break, to carve answers out of her the same way someone else already had. I hadn’t even hesitated.
But now…
Shame consumed me, unfamiliar and unwelcome.
Despite inflicting far more gruesome violence on people during interrogations, I couldn’t shake the mounting thought that it could have been me. I could have been the person to carve into Lena's back. Mere days ago, I was prepared to be that man.
And it didn’t sit right.
Maybe it was because Lena wasn’t like anyone else we’d ever interrogated in our workshop.
Her silence wasn’t defiance or strategy, and it certainly wasn’t self-serving.
There was no leverage in it, no greed, and no angle.
Every ounce of intel she knew was forced on her, collecting against her will.
She didn’t want to know any of it, didn’t want to be part of it, didn’t want anything to do with Marco.
Likely, Lena had entered Marco's radar by being in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Just like our mother.
Another of his victims.
Marco had taken everything from the omega. Broken her in a way that had nothing to do with answers and everything to do with cruelty.
And I had walked in ready to do the same.
Corrosive guilt washed over me in a flood as I stood outside the bathroom, looking at Lena's reflection. How could I have measured, assessed, and wondered how much I would have to torture her before she broke?
I hadn’t understood what she had been through before then. Not really.
I'm not sure I even knew now.
The depth of what Marco had done to her revealed itself in pieces.
The brand on her collarbone. The scars on her back.
But even more so in the way she flinched at sound.
In her movements as her body curled inward and hands rose to shield her head as if expecting impact.
In the way her eyes tracked exits and people.
Marco hadn’t just tortured her. He had dismantled her, methodically and patiently over the course of five years. Until she had been ready to end it all.
I wanted Marco dead. Not quickly. Not cleanly. I wanted him to feel every ounce of what he had carved into her.
Lena was so small, frail, and helpless. Yet, even broken, even starved and even exhausted, she was devastating. Deep shadows lived beneath her eyes, and her posture remained skittish. But none of it could erase what was underneath.
Plump, soft lips that looked like they had never learned how to smile freely. Warm brown eyes that held bright intelligence, always watching and calculating. Rich, bronzed skin stretched over delicate bones. Long black hair cascading down her back in soft, unruly waves.
No amount of abuse could scrub the natural beauty from her.
Every time her scent drifted my way, light and refreshing, peach threaded with a hint of spice, my body reacted before I could stop it.
Just a brief pulse of low heat, impossible to ignore.
The gentle curve of her back, the elegant slope of her neck, and the feminine way her body rounded, despite malnutrition captivated me.
I felt my control slipping, and my emotions growing increasingly volatile.
The little mute was unraveling me.
She had burrowed beneath my skin, wrapping herself around my every thought.
The truth was, despite my many threats to revert back to my original methods for interrogation, I questioned if I would actually be able to hurt her.
In fact, I found myself considering ways to rebuild her or teach her she didn’t have to flinch at every raised voice or sudden movement. I felt compelled to protect and provide for her. And more than anything, I vowed to give her revenge.
But every sign of her abuse made uncontrollable rage rise inside me. Every bruise. Every scar. Every fearful look. Every instinct she had to make herself small.
Despite wanting to make her feel safe, half the time, I only scared her more.
My brother felt it too. I’d seen how he patiently treated her, careful and protective in a way that didn’t come naturally to either of us.
Speaking of Knox, I had left my brother behind to keep an eye on the little mute, while I let off some steam at the workshop. She was much more comfortable with him, anyways. Knox was better at subduing his emotions than I was.
How many times had I made her flinch this week?
How many times had she looked at Knox, afraid of me?
I had done one thing right, at least. The puzzle.
Lena had smiled. Small and reserved, but real. And it had been because of me.
I spotted the puzzle at a bodega, tossed into a discount pile of magazines and toys, while buying a pack of cigarettes. I didn’t smoke, but the lookout Marco posted on Fourth and Maple Street did. He was always asking to bum one.
That's how I got him into the van.
Pretending to smoke one of those disgusting things, I passed him on the sidewalk. He abandoned his post immediately, asking if I could spare one. I told him I had plenty, but left them in the van parked on the next block.
He followed me without question. I’ve always preferred it when my prey comes willingly.
Now he was bound in the workshop, ready to spill blood and secrets.
Before I left the safe house though, I checked on Lena. She was fast asleep, curled into a ball. Knox sat on the floor nearby, back against the wall, watching her. There was a worn indent in the floorboards where his ass had taken a permanent residence.
Dr. Hampton said we didn’t need to stay with the omega while she slept.
Knox did anyway.
She would only fall asleep in his presence, never mine. With Knox watching, she had gradually learned to let her guard down. Around me, she stayed too alert, too tightly wound to rest.
So, I used the time she was asleep to let off some steam.
My brother didn't need this the way I did. He didn't get the same rush and release from torture. To him, it was an unfortunate reality of our job. To me, it was a bonus.
A smell drew me from my thoughts. The sizzle of flesh and a short yelp accompanied the charred scent. I lit the cigarette again, holding it in front of the lookout's lips.
"Want a drag?" I asked.
He shook his head, groaning, "Fuck no, man!"
His flesh was stuck to the cherry, crisping up like bacon.
"Suit yourself," I said, putting it out on his thigh this time.
"Please! I don't know anything! I'm a fucking lookout, not even ranked! Why take me? Marco doesn't tell us shit!"
I tutted, shaking my head at him. "That doesn't mean you don't see things. You're quite observant based on what I've been told. The others keep their heads down, their mouths shut." My smile widened cold and deadly. "Not you, though."
I lit another cigarette. "This one can go in your mouth, so you can finally have a nice, relaxing drag, or out on your thigh again. Start talking."
"Fine! I'll tell you anything!" he pleaded.
I held the fresh cigarette to his lips, which he accepted, inhaling deeply. His blood and sweat soaked body slouched as nicotine wove through him.
"Talk!" I barked.
"I saw something last week! Fuck! If Marco finds out I said anything, he'll kill me."
"What. Did. You. See?" I asked in a clipped tone.
"A woman. Blindfolded. Pretty. Long blonde hair. Tiny. They brought her into one of the properties on my block , quickly. I only saw her for like a second when she got out of the fucking SUV!"
An omega. Had to be if they transported her like that.
"Which house?"
He took another drag, hesitant to respond.
I stood, walking over to the laptop resting on my tool bench. I pressed a few buttons and then turned it so he could see. As he looked at himself on the screen, the speaker blasted, "-a girl, blindfolded. Pretty. Long blonde hair——"
Color drained from his face. He knew how fucked he was. That recording was all Marco would need to put a bullet in his skull.
"You're mine now. I own you." I snapped the laptop shut. "When I say jump, you say 'how high?' When I say, bleed, you cut your fucking arm open. And when I say talk, you better fucking talk!"
"Shit! Okay. Okay! The yellow split-family. The one across from the laundromat."
"We know the laundromat is just a cover for Marco's dirty money. He washes cash through there."
"The entire block is! He owns all of it! Every house, every business. There's lookouts everywhere. No way you're getting close to her if that's what you're planning."
"Not without an informant. I need someone to help me figure out when the coast is clear. Someone who will see me slip in and keep their lips sealed."
I stared at him. He swallowed hard. Then I grabbed a pair of wire cutters, moving close. Every muscle in his body coiled tight, prepared for more pain, until I moved behind him, clipping his restraints.
“I’ll call you on this,” I said, tossing him a prepaid disposable phone. “You keep it on you at all times. Got it?”
He nodded quickly.
I blindfolded him again, guided him up the workshop stairs, and eased him into the trunk of my van.
I drove toward the East district of Falcon City. I wanted him out of the car as fast as possible. He reeked of piss and sweat.
When the van stopped, he started begging. “Don’t kill me, man. Please.”
“Then answer your phone,” I said calmly. “You get one chance to stay alive. Miss my call even once, and I will find you and end you. Got it?”
“Yes,” he blurted. “Yes. I won’t fuck up.”
I dragged him out of the van and let his body hit the concrete, then drove off without looking back.
On the drive back to the safe house, my mind replayed the image of Lena completing her puzzle over and over. A small, reserved smile slipped across her cheeks. The way it had appeared so briefly, so fleetingly, sent possessiveness curling through me.
I wanted to make her smile again.
Something pulled me straight to her room, eager to be near her after being gone for so long. As I got closer, her scent wrapped around me, drawing me in like a lure. Spiced peaches quieted the violent edge in me.
I cracked her bedroom door open. Knox jumped to his feet instantly, silent and lethal, ready to attack. His posture relaxed only when he realized it was me, stepping into the hallway and closing the door softly behind him.
“Sorry,” he whispered. “Didn’t expect you back so soon. What’d you get?”
“Good intel,” I replied. “The lookout’s ours now. I flipped him. Sounds like Marco moved an omega to one of his stash houses on Maple Street. Apparently he owns most of the abandoned properties on that block. It should be easy to track how he's buying them and follow the money.”
Knox nodded. “Okay. Then we’ll talk about strategy for omega retrieval.”
“Tomorrow,” I said. “I’m beat.”
“Same,” he muttered. “My ass is numb and I’ve gotta piss. I’m turning in.”
He reached for the key to lock Lena’s door, but I stopped him.
“It’s fine,” I said. “I’m going to sit in there for a while.”
His brow lifted, but he didn’t argue, handing over the key and heading down the hall.
I took his usual spot on the floor and exhaled, dragging my hands through my hair.
Why the fuck was I in here?
I looked up, ready to watch Lena sleep, but her eyes were already on me. They grew wider and more attentive, tracking me. She was awake.
“Sorry,” I muttered. “Didn’t mean to wake you. Knox had to piss, so you’re stuck with me for a bit.”
Her silence stretched between us.
She almost never responded to me. Not even a nod. Only my brother.
Carefully, she untangled herself from the growing pile of pillows and blankets we’d been giving to her and moved toward me. I stayed completely still, disbelief hitting hard when I realized she was coming closer willingly.
She stopped directly in front of me and lifted her hand.
Time slowed as her fingers brushed my cheek just for the briefest second.
Then, just as quickly, she recoiled, staring at her hand.
Blood stained her fingertip.
Fuck. I guess I should've cleaned myself up before coming to her room. Was she frightened?
Her eyes were wider now, bewildered. Yup, she was afraid. Lena was always afraid of me.
I stood slowly. Painfully slow. I didn't want to scare her more or make her cower from me. Straightening, I did my best not to tower over her slight frame, and looked down as she craned her head up to meet my gaze.
“That blood,” I said, pointing to her hand, “I spilled for you. From someone who deserved it. Someone who works for Marco.”
She didn’t speak. But she didn’t back away either, so I continued.
“I’ll keep spilling blood, Lena. I’ll keep carving through his men until I get to him. And when I do, he’ll pay for the scars on your back. Marco will pay for hurting you. I’ll make sure he suffers."
I fell silent.
The room seemed to shrink around us, every sound fading until there was nothing but the hum of our heartbeats. She stared up at me, dubious brown eyes searching my face as if she were weighing the truth of my words.
As she watched me, I didn’t soften my emotion. I let her see all of it. The rage. The conviction. The inevitability.
Finally I asked, "Do you want that from me?"
For a long moment, neither of us breathed.
Then something in her expression shifted. Fear didn’t vanish, but it loosened its grip, giving way to something else. Her shoulders lowered just a fraction. Her chin lifted, barely.
And she nodded.
Lena wanted Marco to pay for what he’d done to her.
But what she didn’t know yet, was that he had far more to answer for than her suffering alone.
“If that’s what you want from me, I’ll give it to you, little mute,” I said, my voice filled with promise.
She held my gaze for a few moments longer, continuing to weigh the truth of my words, then turned and retreated to her bed, soft feet padding across the floor.
I took my place on the ground again, leaning against the wall, and watched her.
At first she tracked me like usual, eyes locked and alert, but then they grew heavy.
Soon she drifted off to sleep for the first time in my presence.
While she slept, I turned that promise over in my mind, hardening it into something unbreakable.
I would make Marco pay.
For hurting her.
And for killing our mother.