Page 115 of Scarred in Silence
This isn’t gentle.
This isn’t safe.
This is punishment and penance and power, all tangled together in heat and sweat and the sounds we make when we forget how to lie.
His hand curls around my throat—enough to cut off breath, just enough to remind me who he is. To remind me who I am when I’m with him.
His thrusts are deep. Relentless. Like he’s trying to fuck the guilt out of himself or brand his name into my bones. My walls clench around his length.
“You gave me a gun,” I pant, nails digging into his back. “And you knew it wasn’t loaded.”
“I needed to know if you still wanted to live.”
“And if I didn’t?”
“Then I’d die with you.”
I slap him, hard. Not because I’m angry—but because I need the sting.
His jaw tightens. Then he fucks me harder.
I come undone under him, my scream swallowed by his mouth, our bodies shaking as we spiral out of control together. He pulls up, spitting into the back of my mouth. I swallow it. He knows how depraved I can be. I welcome it.
He groans, spilling into me, forehead pressed to mine, his breathshaky and wild.
We stay there, tangled in sweat and heat and something too sharp to be love. His hand finds mine on the pillow.
“I’m not your savior,” he whispers.
“No,” I say softly.
“You’re my sentence.”
We don’t move for a long time. Not until the silence stretches too wide.
Then I sit up, pulling the sheet around me, staring at the gun on the nightstand.
“I know where the others are,” I say quietly.
He lifts his head, pinching his brows together.
“In Utah,” I continue. “I’ll take you there. We can help them.”
Lucien’s eyes go sharp. Focused.
But mine? Mine are calm.
Because if I’m going to burn in this world, I’ll make damn sure it’s for something worth watching.
42
Astra
We shouldn’t be here.
Lucien hasn’t said it, but I can feel the tension pouring off him like gasoline, waiting for a match.
The blacked-out SUV we rented is parked two blocks away—hidden beneath the cloak of night and our own shared obsession. He’s at my side, dressed down in dark jeans and a charcoal hoodie. I wear a cropped jacket zipped to my neck and aviators even though the sun set hours ago.
