Silence
My heart is no longer in my chest. It’s somewhere lost, still beating, but just barely.
Hearing Zayden like that … in so much pain, telling us to leave him …
My body doesn’t feel like mine anymore. My skin is clammy, chilled, and whenever I replay my husband’s pained shouts, I cover my face with my hands. Fear for myself is commonplace, but this is torture.
Yale is beside me, holding my hand, and Xavier is pacing, running over different plans. Strategies, escape routes, firearms … words floating in the air that don’t land or take root.
“X,” Yale says quietly, but Xavier keeps tracking the room, listing off names I’ve never heard.
“X.” But his brother keeps moving, until Yale raises his voice.
“Xavier!” Xavier stops. “Ryker had the number to burner phones we bought nearly two years ago. He has been planning this a long fucking time, and we cannot make the mistake of going in guns blazing. We need to think about leaving.”
“No,” I sob. “No, we—we can’t.”
“Not forever. Just to regroup,” he adds. “We have days, if he’s being generous, to plan this. That isn’t enough.”
The clawing panic in my chest expands. “What do you even mean? Give him the Agency!”
“You know we can’t,” he says gently.
I stand, tossing the phone aside. “Because he’ll get too much power? He already has it!”
Xavier shakes his head. “We can’t give in so easily when so much is on the line.”
I look to Yale, hoping he’ll convince Xavier that we can’t leave Zayden behind. But even him, the guy with the biggest heart, the man who would do anything to save his family, seems resigned to the choice that Xavier has made.
Maybe they’re right. What do I know about this world? But something in my heart tells me we shouldn’t do this. Zayden’s life is more important than the risk of giving the Agency away.
But I have to follow their lead.
Wrapping my arms around myself, I keep my voice low, not even attempting to hide the defeat in my tone. “Then what’s the plan?”
Xavier locks his eyes on me, a determination in his gaze that I’ve never seen in him before.
He looks so much like Zayden right now, more than in just appearance.
Before, he was an echo of a leader that Zayden had to be, not that I blame him.
But now, he’s stepping into the light, and I’m grateful he is, because we can’t do this without a leader.
He lifts his chin, the picture of power and control. “We fight back.”
I’ve never felt more useless than I do right now. Yale and Xavier are busy making calls, so all I can do is obsess over the fact that my husband might be dead or dying.
There isn’t just an ache in my chest anymore. It’s a clawing. Like some wild, sharp-clawed creature has found its way into my rib cage and plans on leaving nothing behind.
It feels pointless and selfish to cry. I just sit and wait.
Within hours, strangers arrive. The first is Charlie Callahan.
I’ve never seen someone as large. He’s easily close to six foot eight, with a shaved head and an easy smile.
If I saw him from a distance, I’d be rightly terrified of the muscles and the determined glare that he had when I first opened the door to him.
But the moment his attention landed on me, he softened, grinned, and shook my tiny hand in his.
It also helped that he was sucking a lollipop.
He brings men with him. Some suited, some casual, all dressed in black and heavily armed. Some offer me warm smiles, others words of reassurance about Zayden, and it’s hard to believe these people are killers.
The once empty penthouse is now filled with people wanting to help. It offers some ease to the ache in my chest, because people clearly love and respect the brothers, and I can see why.
Xavier’s new role as leader seems to have taken root quickly. People are turning to him now, and he’s ready with answers, never once stopping to let his concern take over.
I’m seeing Yale in an entirely new light.
He was always quiet and playful, but now he’s a contract killer.
I even hear some of Charlie’s men mumbling about the X, Y and Z brothers—the legend that they are, apparently.
It makes me strangely proud given that I’ve tried my hardest to ignore their line of work for so long.
“You good, love?” Yale slides his arm around my waist, dragging my attention from a group of burly looking men fussing over Bullet.
I nod and lean into him. “Feel a little out of my depth.”
He kisses my temple. “It’ll be over soon, and we can all go home.”
Just when I thought the apartment couldn’t get any fuller, someone else knocks.
Xavier answers. On the other side is someone who I can only describe as one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen—and equally the most terrifying. Dark hair, black clothing, and a look that could cut through bone.
“That’s Envy,” Yale whispers.
It makes sense that she’s the one who runs the Agency. She’s all business the moment she arrives, mumbling something to Xavier and gesturing at the room as if he started something without her and she’s not happy about it. He responds with something likely sarcastic, because she glares at him.
The woman with Envy is in her mid-forties, with gray hair pulled back into a ponytail and an easy smile. She isn’t dressed anything like her boss—she’s in jeans and a thick sweater—and she gazes around the apartment like she’s never seen anything so grand.
“Silence,” Xavier calls out to me. “Come and meet Mercy and Envy.”
I approach, eager to meet the woman that Zayden wanted to be my personal protection. “Hi.” I look between the two women. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”
Envy doesn’t smile. Mercy, on the other hand, beams at me.
“Lovely to meet you, Silence,” she says.
Xavier says, “Envy, come with me and I’ll fill you in.
Mercy, can you stay with Silence?” She nods enthusiastically, and Xavier turns his attention to me.
I expect him to touch me, cup my cheek or gently grip my chin like he usually does, and like Yale has been doing all day.
He doesn’t. I wonder if it’s because Envy is here and maybe she wouldn’t understand this new dynamic.
Either way, it hurts. I hide it behind my intrigue, but I wonder whether he can see it anyway.
“Mercy is going to be with you one on one, Silence. She’ll look after you. ”
I want you to look after me.
That’s what I want to say to him. It’s what I want to say to Yale, too. But I know they have more important things to do than babysit me, so I nod, smile, and take Mercy into the kitchen.
“This is quite the place,” Mercy says. “I always wanted somewhere big for me and my daughter, but being a teacher doesn’t pay the best salary.”
I open the refrigerator. “You were a teacher?”
“I was. It was fun. Just not for my daughter.”
“You worked at her school?”
“Yep, and she was not a fan of it. Of course, there were always the benefits to having Mom close by. She was forever asking for money.”
Taking out two bottles of water from the refrigerator, I hand her one. For a few painful seconds, we drink and say nothing. The excuse I give myself is that I don’t know how to talk to a contract killer, but I married one and live with two other others, so I really should know what to say.
“Okay, I’m just gonna ask the obvious question.” I place the bottle of water on the kitchen counter. “How did you go from teaching to contract killing?”
Mercy chuckles, drinking more of her water before answering.
“It is a bit of a leap, isn’t it? Honestly, I’ve always had that small urge inside of me.
You know when someone cuts you off in traffic, or steals your parking space?
We get pissed, right? Well, I got more than angry.
Those moments would fill me with a kind of rage that wasn’t easy to hold back.
I guess it all came to head when I was at a luncheon with school moms, and one had the gall to criticize my gluten-free brownies.
I waited until she went to the bathroom, followed her, and dunked her head in the toilet. ”
I try to hold back a laugh but fail. “Really?”
“Yep. Not my finest moment, and definitely very childish. But I guess my reasoning was that no one would believe her that the head-of-the-PTA, top-of-the-phone-tree mom would ever shove the head of another grown woman into a public toilet.”
“And did it work? Did anybody suspect you?”
“Nope,” she sings. “But the thing I took away from that day was that maybe I need something to channel the rage. Honestly, if I hadn’t been watching the way everybody should be in the world, I might have gone much further than I did that day. Over brownies.”
“Gluten-free brownies,” I add.
She smiles. “I like you, Silence. You want to know another funny thing? They were store bought. I’ve never baked a day in my life.” A laugh falls out of me, the first one in what feels like forever.
She sighs. “After that, I spoke to a friend who I’d gone to anger management with. Told her that I was struggling, and she suggested the Agency. At first, I thought it was a ridiculous suggestion, but months went by and I couldn’t stop thinking about it … and now, here I am.”
I watch her. “Do you regret it?”
“I never let myself regret. It feels like I’m admitting that I’m unhappy, and I’m not. Well, not all day.” She grins, and I decide in that moment that I like Mercy, and as much as I’d prefer the Silver brothers to be the ones to take care of me, she’ll do just as good. Maybe even better.
I show her to one of the guest rooms that she’ll be sharing with Envy. After placing her suitcase on the bed, she starts unpacking, and I watch her from the vanity seat.
“Where is your daughter now?”
She sighs heavily. “Travelling the world. I know she’ll be having the best time and honestly part of me is probably more jealous than sad, but I miss her. She still texts me every day, but it’s more pictures of her at landmarks than ‘Mom, I miss you.’”
“I’m sure she does, though.”
She smiles. “I hope so.”
As she continues to unpack, I remain quiet.