Page 106 of Scarred in Silence
I sit up too quickly. My pulse trips over itself as the memory hits—Lucien holding him down, blood slicking his gloves, my voice trembling as I gave the orders. The gun was still warm in his hand when I said the words:I want his eyes. He doesn’t get to see anymore.
I meant it.
That’s the worst part. I meant every fucking word.
And Lucien didn’t hesitate. Not once.
He followed my commands like scripture, and I watched him skin a man alive while I stood perfectly still. No tears. No panic. Just a hollow ache that never left.
“I didn’t want you to see all of it,” Lucien says quietly, like he’s afraid to break the silence between us. “But I knew if I left you out, you’d never believe he was really gone.”
I swallow hard. My voice is sandpaper. “He deserved it.”
Lucien doesn’t blink. “I know.”
But my stomach still twists because I’m not sure if I’m sick over what happened… or how easy it was.
Lucien rises, slow and fluid, his shadow stretching across the floor as he walks toward me. His shirt is wrinkled, and his knuckles are raw. He hasn’t showered yet, and I can still smell the metallic tang of blood on him.
“You hungry?” he asks, voice gentler now, but distant. Guarded. Like he’s afraid of what I’ll say.
“I’m not sure what I feel,” I answer honestly, dragging the blanket tighter around me. “It’s too quiet.”
Lucien pauses at the edge of the bed, hands flexing at his sides. “That quiet—it’s peace, Astra. You said you wanted closure.”
Closure.
The word tastes like rust.
I glance at his hands—those same hands that held me through withdrawals, that ripped Victor apart bone by bone, that covered my mouth the first time I tried to scream. They’re capable of destruction and devotion in the same breath.
And I’ve let them do both.
“I wanted him dead,” I say. “But I didn’t think I’d feel this…”
“Empty?”
I nod.
Lucien brushes a knuckle along my cheek, then tucks a strand of hair behind my ear like I’m made of glass. “That emptiness—” he whispers, “—that’s what’s left when hate finally leaves the room.”
I flinch. Not because he touched me. Because I think he’s wrong.
The hate didn’t leave.
It just shifted.
“You say you love me,” I whisper. “But sometimes I think you just love having something that can’t leave.”
He stills.
“I’ve tried,” I add. “I’ve tried to convince myself you’re the only one who’s ever stayed. But maybe you stayed because you’re the one who built the cage.”
His lips part, but no words come.
“I know what this is now, Lucien. You didn’t pull me from the fire. You just offered to burn with me.”
He swallows hard, the muscle in his jaw ticking.
