Xavier
The panic room isn’t my favorite place to be, but it isn’t terrible.
It’s big enough to fit five people comfortably.
Two single beds face each other, pushed up against opposite walls.
The far wall is almost filled with computer screens hooked up to CCTV that covers every inch of the grounds, and the rest of the space is busy with supplies.
Dried food, medical equipment, spare clothes, bottled water, and I’m fairly sure there’s a Rubik’s cube in there somewhere.
Bullet sits by my feet as I scan the CCTV screens. Zayden is getting into the SUV, but Yale remains in the foyer, talking with Silence. There’s sound, but I don’t bother turning it on, because it’s clear they’re talking about the discussion we had earlier.
Yale takes Silence’s chin in his hand, and I watch with equal parts fascination and trepidation.
They’ve always been relaxed in each other’s presence.
I’d say I’ve seen Silence more hands-on with Yale than with her own husband, but that might be down to Zayden’s preference to observe her more than hold her to him.
But Yale and Silence? They hug. They lean into each other.
He wraps his arms around her without hesitation.
It’s as if they live to feel each other.
But where do I fit in?
I’ve never exactly been a cuddly boyfriend. I’ve never even been a boyfriend. I fuck, and if it’s important to them, I kiss them goodbye. Other than that, no one really touches me, and I don’t touch them. Holding Silence in the car is the closest I’ve come to actual affection in fucking years.
If I cross this line with her, will she want me to be like Yale? To hold her, lie with her, wrap myself around her?
Or is this purely sex?
Can I handle either of those things, or will it break me, knowing these are the only pieces I’ll get of her? I told Zayden I could do this, but was I driven by the need to finally have Silence the way I’ve always wanted? Or can I really remain detached from this?
“I really don’t want to lock us in. Can’t we just say that we did?” Silence asks as she enters the room. I keep my eyes on the CCTV.
“You gonna lie to your bestie?”
She grunts and types in the code on the left of the door—a combination of our birthdays—and the metal door slides shut.
I face her, slip my hands into my pockets, and grin. “Wanna do a jigsaw?”
“This is boring!” Silence whines for the third time. I’m lying on one of the beds, forearm over my eyes, and she’s on the bed opposite.
“I could smother you with a pillow,” I suggest. “That’d take up a few minutes.”
“Your hilarity knows no bounds.”
I smile into my arm. “God, imagine the quiet. Also a good way to get a kill out of my system.”
“You shouldn’t joke about that.”
“Death?”
“Murder.”
I sigh. “Why did I have to get locked in a room with goody two shoes? Oh. Wait.” I drop my head to the side to look at her. “Goody two shoes is pretty handy with a knife. Maybe she’s not so good, after all.”
She tenses her jaw but says nothing. A few minutes of quiet pass, broken once only by Bullet yipping in his sleep. Silence’s frustration is like a heat washing over me, and I watch her.
“You never ask about what we do.”
She crosses her legs on the bed and plays with the cover. “I don’t want to know.”
“Liar. You just don’t want to ask Zayden because you’re worried his answers will ruin your perfect image of him.” I tuck my hand behind my head and close my eyes. “Well, you already don’t like me, so just ask.”
Minutes pass. Bullet sneezes. I’m about to fall asleep when Silence finally speaks.
“Why do you do it?”
The question everyone wants to know. Have I always had the urge to kill, or is it just a job? Money or need—it helps people decipher if I’m dangerous or greedy, as if that matters.
I sit up, ignoring the pulling sensation in my abdomen, and face her with my back against the wall.
“Because some people don’t deserve to live.”
Her brows furrow gently, and she waits a few beats before speaking again.
“That doesn’t explain how you can do it without it bothering you. A normal person would feel guilt, even if their victim deserved to die.”
I search her face. “Then I guess I’m not normal.
” She looks at her fingers, twisting them together until her skin whitens.
“While we’re on the subject of normal, most people would agree that no one deserves to die.
You condemned someone and called them a victim in the same sentence.
Your mind must be a fucking carnival at times. ”
She flushes. “I know there are bad people in the world, X.”
“But most wouldn’t agree to have them slaughtered.”
“Who used the word slaughtered?”
“I did, because you know for a fact I don’t do it quietly.”
Now the frustration appears. “How would I ever know that?”
I shift to the edge of the bed, interest and pleasure licking at my spine. There’s something deliciously addictive about annoying Silence, like I’m pulling free a long-caged part of her, and it never, ever gets old.
“Because you see different people every day in your line of work, and you love people-watching. Analyzing. Figuring them out. You knew from the get-go that I was the one without a moral code. It’s probably why you’re so close to Yale—he’s the safe one, isn’t he?
The one with a cleaner soul. Not exactly squeaky clean, but closer than Zayden or me.
” My words are striking true, and Silence clenches her jaw.
“But you know what I think? I don’t think you’re pally with Yale because he comforts you.
I think you’re hoping he rubs off on you. ”
Her eyes widen and she moves closer, dangling her legs over the edge of the bed. “What are you saying? That I’ve killed people?”
“Have you?”
“No!”
“But you’ve done something.”
She glares at me, jaw set. “Shut up, Xavier.”
“No one cuts off their family and hides in Vegas unless they’re running from something.
And your maiden name? Smith? Come on. You couldn’t have gone for something a little more believable?
” Her expression remains the same, as if she’s warring between killing me or beating me until she’s close to doing so.
“I’m guessing”—I get up and stalk to her bed, pushing her knees apart and standing between them.
She tips her head back to look up at me, fire in her eyes—“that there’s a reason you can take care of yourself, and there’s a reason you hid it from us.
And I think that same reason is also why you’re so eager to hate me. ”
“I hate you because you’re a prick.”
“Or is it because we’re the same?” I lean down and run my fingers through her hair, gripping it at the base of her scalp until she hisses in pain.
“I think the dirty pieces of you call out to the dirty pieces of me, Silence. I’m open about my darkness, and you want to be the same.
” I tighten my hold and she parts her lips, a tear slipping from her eye and into her hair.
My gaze drops to her mouth. “And I think that same darkness is making you want to give in and kiss me.”
Her expression changes, a softening of sorts, but she’s fighting it.
“I don’t want you to kiss me, Xavier,” she whispers. “I want you to fuck me.”
“I’d make you beg first.”
“Not a fucking chance.”
She cries out as I tug her hair. I press one knee to the bed and one hand against the wall as I crowd her.
“You can use that bratty fucking mouth with my brother all you like, but if you want me, you beg.”
“Go. Fuck. Yourself.” She sounds resigned, but when I glance down, she’s pressed her core against my thigh.
Fuck. Is this actually happening? I’ve taunted Silence for years, and maybe there were times afterwards when I’d allow my imagination to wander—to hope that this frustration between us would descend into lust. I’d never betray my brother, not in a thousand fucking years, so I kept to my fantasies and never allowed myself to think I’d ever have more. But I have permission now.
“Greedy little slut thinks you can get off like that?” She grinds against me, never once breaking eye contact, even when it’s clear she wants to sink into the pleasure and thrust harder.
I allow it, just for a second, a ferocity bursting free in my blood as I watch a woman I’ve craved for years grinding against me like I’m her last hope for an orgasm.
“Zayden said you thought moving from hating me to fucking me would be easy, and that was right, wasn’t it?
Look how desperate you are.” Her lips quiver, and she whimpers.
“Do you like that, Q? Being told how needy you are?” Her answer is to grind harder, her heat pressing through my jeans.
I release her hair, only to grip her chin. “Open your mouth.”
“Fuck you,” she says, her determination doused in breathless desire.
“Open your fucking mouth.”
A rhythmic beep interrupts us, and I glance over my shoulder at the door. Before it slides open, I release Silence and step back, sitting on the bed and ignoring the sting in my stomach and my throbbing cock.
“Done,” Yale says as he steps inside. He pauses, taking in Silence’s flushed cheeks and disheveled hair. Her legs are clamped together, and I smirk. “Everything okay?”
“Yep.” She gets up and darts past him. “I’m going for a swim.”
I lace my fingers behind my head and rest against the bed, grinning at the ceiling.
“What did you do?”
“Opened Pandora’s fucking box, little brother.”