Silence
Dean yanks me back, and I almost stumble in my heels as he sits me on one of the sofas. My hand is throbbing, and I’m surprised I didn’t break something with how hard he threw me into the wall.
He touches his nose, wriggling it. “Why did you do that?”
“You were trying to scare me,” I say through gritted teeth. “You think I don’t know a power play when I hear it? How do you know me? Who are you?”
“A friend,” he insists, his tone patronizing, as if that was at all clear.
I look toward the door, but there’s no chance I’d get to it.
He could easily trip me. Still, I stare at the exit.
On the few occasions we had a conversation about his work, Zayden warned me about this.
If Dean is after Zayden by going through me, there’s a chance he’ll take me.
If he was going to kill me, he’d have done it already.
The window to escape is shortening with every second. “Look at me.”
I don’t. I can’t.
Run, Silence.
“Look at me when I’m talking to you.” His voice climbs across my skin, digging free a memory buried beneath years of being Silence Silver. A little girl crying on a basement floor, hands wrapped, blood across her face.
“Look at me, Silence.”
“Look at your father!”
I raise my eyes, my body close to vibrating with adrenaline. Dean smiles softly, and I wonder if it’s my survival instinct or muscle memory that has me wanting to cling to my attacker. When my father would apologize, I’d accept it. It was easier to do that than waste my energy with anger.
“I’m just trying to make you strong, Silence.”
I believed him, because despite the pain, I loved him. He was my dad. And it wasn’t all bad, so …
Maybe that’s my approach here. Maybe I can mold myself into someone who won’t fight back, and then I can run.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I’m sorry I hit you.”
Dean approaches and crouches before me, tucking my hair behind my ear.
“I’m sorry I scared you. It was a slip of the tongue …
I should have been honest with you, but …
” His gaze flicks across my face, a strange, unsettling sense of longing in his expression.
“I’ve waited so long for this.” Someone knocks, and I pull in a sharp breath as my eyes dart to the door. “Scream, and I’ll snap your neck.”
That’s fine. I’ll stay quiet. Because that must be Zayden. Who else would be here now?
Dean opens the door with total confidence.
It’s not my husband. It’s two men, and as they enter, their suit jackets shift with movement. Both are armed.
While Dean talks to them about Zayden’s location in the hotel, I slowly slip off my heels.
“Don’t wait for the hit,” my mom shouts. “Hit him first!”
But white spots are already bursting in my vision, and blood is filling my mouth. My dad stands over me. “Get up, or I’ll hurt you.”
My breathing picks up as a thousand lessons assault my mind. Early mornings. Late nights. Broken ribs. Blood loss and pain.
Maybe they knew I’d never truly escape this life, so they were preparing me.
Or maybe they cursed me.
“Ryker Blake,” Dean says as he approaches me again. “That’s who I am. If your husband doesn’t show up soon, Silence, I’m leaving with you.”
No. I won’t let him take me.
Don’t wait for the hit.
Hit him first.
Hard. Fast. Accurate.
Then run.
I throw my fist out. My knuckles connect with Ryker’s throat this time, and his eyes widen as he stumbles back, giving me enough of an opportunity to run.
The first suited man barrels toward me. Bald, large, but slow. I duck, shoving him as hard as I can, but he’s pure muscle and only loses his footing when I kick the back of his leg.
I’m out of practice, and I fall, too. My knees meet the carpet, and I slip on my silk dress as I try to crawl to a standing position.
The other man seizes my hair and pulls me to my feet. My scalp burns, my eyes water, and a scream tears from my throat as he slams me into the door. The air is knocked from my lungs, and I throw my elbow out. It hits something, but I’m unsure what, still desperately trying to breathe.
My vision blurs from pain and confusion, but my attention narrows on the small red box by the door.
I slam my palm against it, glass cracking.
The fire alarm blares.
“Bitch.” The man wraps his arms around my waist and lifts me.
I press my feet against the door and shove, and the world tips.
He’s not as big as the other guy so he falls, releasing me once we slam into the floor.
I roll onto my knees, but Ryker is already coming for me.
I crouch, stand, then throw my knee forward in an attempt to hit him between the legs, but he angles his body and seizes my neck, walking me backward across the room until my back meets the wall.
My body is exhausted. Muscles burning. Lungs desperate for a deep breath.
But my parents put me through worse than this fucker ever could.
I turn my body, lift my arm, and throw my elbow into Ryker’s face. Once. Twice. Three times. He releases me.
I grab the doorhandle.
Falling into the hallway, I scream at the top of my lungs, not that there’s much air in them to do so. The bigger guy is back, and I crawl, trying to get to my feet, but this fucking dress—
He grabs my hair. Lips near my ear. “You think you can run, little girl? You can’t. We’re gonna take you.” Terror sluices through me, and he shoves my face into the carpet. “We’re gonna take you and—”
He’s gone. The pain, the heat from his breath, it’s all gone.
I roll onto my back and watch, wide-eyed, as he’s dragged away and thrown.
Literally thrown down the hallway.
The sound when his body meets the ground is a heavy, rolling thump.
“You good, Q?” Blinking, I gape up at Xavier. He’s hardly even breathless after literally yeeting a man ten feet. “Q. Use your words, sweetheart.”
I swallow, hating myself for preening a little at the first kind nickname he’s ever given me. “I’m okay.”
“Good. How many?”
“Three.”
His brows raise. “Oh. Easy.” The other bodyguard appears, and Xavier glances at him quickly before returning his attention to me. “Stay.”
He wastes no time striding toward his opponents.
The big guy is still fumbling to get up, so Xavier focuses entirely on man number two.
He throws a punch and blood spits across the wall.
Another punch. Another. He grips the man’s head and slams it into the pretty wallpaper, and he almost comically drops to the ground.
“What is it you were saying to our girl?” Xavier asks the attacker, who has finally gotten to his feet.
Our girl.
Xavier doesn’t even like me.
“You fucking Silver kids have no idea what you’re up against,” the man says, sneering.
“An amateur.” Xavier ducks and weaves as the man throws punch after punch, but his muscles do nothing for him compared to Xavier’s speed. He’s toying with him, a smirk on his handsome face as he avoids every hit. “You can’t just buy a gun and call yourself a killer, y’know.”
The man roars in frustration. “I’m gonna fucking kill—”
Xavier snaps his neck.
I gasp, my hand flying to my mouth, as he slumps to the ground in a final, ground-shaking thud. My skin chills, and nausea burns the back of my throat as my brain tries to make sense of what I’ve just witnessed—but there’s no time.
Ryker appears.
“Xavier!” I scream, but he doesn’t turn in time.
All I see is the flash of a blade before it’s buried in Xavier’s back. He turns, and Ryker yanks out the knife and pushes it into Xavier’s stomach.
I’m moving before I can stop myself. My pain forgotten, my heart in my throat, rage and fear racing through me as I grab Ryker’s wrist, using the last of my strength to push my thumb into the pressure point by his pulse. Instinctively, his hand flexes, and he drops the knife.
A sharp, piercing pain collides with my face.
My back meets the wall, blood pouring out of my nose and into my mouth.
He headbutted me.
The fucker headbutted me.
I’ve had my nose broken six times. Four of those occasions were before my fifteenth birthday. But I had a good streak going, and this fucker has ruined it.
I roar, snatching the knife off the floor and rushing at him. I flip the weapon so the pommel is at the base of my fist, pressing my thumb to the base and sweeping it out. I strike, the blade slipping through his shirt like butter, and given the resistance, I definitely cut him.
It must be muscle memory that drives me, because I fall into steps and movements that I haven’t used in a decade. My body isn’t as nimble, and I’m slower and out of breath faster, but I sweep, dodge, stumbling only once or twice, but never letting Ryker land another hit.
My heart thumps as I spin and throw my strength into jabbing the knife in quick, sharp movements. Death by a thousand cuts, my dad used to call it, but he’d use a piece of wood shaped like a dagger that caused more bruises than torn skin. My school would ask too many questions, otherwise.
Sweat has my dress clinging to my skin, and I’m desperate to heave in fresh air, but I keep my breathing low. Ryker, on the other hand, is panting, staring at me like I’m not human.
A ping of metal sparks beside me and I scream, throwing my forearms up to cover my face. Another bullet hits the wall, and I step back.
“Don’t fucking shoot her!” Ryker screams.
My first mistake is closing my eyes. Strong arms circle my waist and I’m pulled, in what direction I’m not sure. The strong smell of blood makes me think it’s Xavier, but I can hardly gather a thought before more bullets fly.
“Down, X!” Someone bellows—I think it’s Zayden—and the world tips. Air is knocked from my lungs for a second time, and a firm body holds me close, darkening the light beyond my closed eyelids.
“We need to move,” Xavier says in my ear, and I’m unsure if I nod or if he doesn’t bother waiting for a response. I’m on my knees, slipping once again on my dress, Xavier helping me the best he can as bullets fly between Zayden and Ryker.
When we reach the end of the hall, Xavier pulls me around the corner, sitting against the wall. He’s shaking, his clothes sodden with blood, and Zayden has stopped firing to crouch beside us.
“We need to go. Now.” He looks at his brother. “Can you walk?” Xavier nods, and Zayden cups my cheek, rage flashing through his expression. I no doubt have blood all over my face and the beginnings of some nasty bruises. “Let’s get out of here before the cops show up.”