Page 113 of Scarred in Silence

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“Astra?”

No answer.

I move through the house slowly, every corner a landmine. The hallway smells like honey and fear.

Please. Just fucking be breathing.

I reach the bedroom.

The door’s cracked.

I nudge it open with my foot and step inside.

She’s there.

Curled up in the middle of the bed, eyes closed, arms wrapped around one of my old shirts like it’s a lifeline. The gun is on the nightstand, and she put it down. It’s untouched. Unfired.

She’s alive.

I drop to my knees beside the bed.

My whole body caves in.

She stirs, eyes fluttering open. Her gaze is slow to focus, and when it does, it lands right on me.

“Lucien?” Her voice is groggy. Raw.

I look like a wreck. I know I do. Rain-soaked, blood-splattered, pale. Haunted.

But I manage to speak.

“You didn’t use it,” I whisper.

Her eyes don’t leave mine. “No.”

The weight that drops off my chest is enough to make me sway. I bury my face in her blanket for a moment. My hands are shaking again.

“I thought—” My voice cracks. “I thought maybe…”

She sits up slowly, looking at me like I’m not the man who chained her to this world, but the man still begging her to stay.

“I waited,” she says simply. “I just… waited for you.”

I nod. Swallow. My throat feels like broken glass.

I press my forehead to her knee. Let her warmth remind me she’s still here.

Still mine. For now.

But I know the clock’s ticking.

Next week, I have to show her off like she’s a broken-down car I fixed.

Tonight, I’m just grateful I didn’t come home to silence.

I don’t want her silence anymore. I like her fire burning bright.

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