Page 90 of Scarred in Silence
I pick at a loose thread in the blanket draped over my chair.
“I’m breathing.”
“Low bar.” She forces a laugh.
“But I’ll take it.”
We lapse back into quiet. The grandfather clock on the wall ticks like a bomb. Evelyn squeezes the tote strap until it chokes the canvas. Finally, she exhales, unzips the bag, and slides a dog-eared paperback onto the coffee table.
Jane Eyre.
Our copy. Margin notes in neon gel ink and coffee stains from finals week. The sight of it knocks the air from my lungs.
“I found it in a storage box,” she murmurs. “Figured you deserved something that’s still yours.”
I trace the ragged spine, swallow the boulder wedged in my throat.
“Thank you.”
She nods—but her eyes flick to the door, then back to me. Whatever she’s here for, the book was just the crystal ball. The fortune isn’t spoken for yet.
I break first. “Say it.”
Her shoulders hitch. “Dante told me something. Last night.” She licks dry lips.
“He said Lucien… orchestrated your kidnapping.”
The sentence slides across the desk and thuds into my chest. I blink stupidly.
“He—what?”
Her breath trembles. “He planned it, Astra. Bought guards, timed the auction. All so he could be the hero who ‘saved’ you.”
“No.” My voice is a rasp. “He wouldn’t.”
“He did,” she insists, eyes shining. “Dante’s furious. He said Lucien admitted it like it was just a slight risk—something calculated. A contingency plan.”
“I… no.” Heat floods my face, then drains. But my brain is already splicing memories: Lucien’s flawless timing, the fact that Varek was my new captor, the way Lucien came as soon as I called him. A fissure splinters down my spine.
Evelyn leans forward. “Harmony tried to warn me. Before she went MIA a couple of weeks ago, after Lucien refused to let us see you.”
My heart aches.
“Harmony? She tried to see me?”
“Yeah. The last text I got from her was ‘He’s not who you think.’ Then silence. Dante claims she’s off-grid for her own reasons, but I see how he stiffens when I mention her name—like he knows more.”
A memory forced me to remember; Harmony walking with me months ago, looking over her shoulder. We all knew she was being followed, blackmailed. But by who? Uneasiness settles low in my stomach. A pit is forming.
“Why tell me now?” I croak.
“Because you can’t fight an enemy you’re still fucking,” she says. Tears brim. “He loves you, God help him, but love doesn’t excuse the bomb he dropped on you. It just makes the explosion worse.”
I stare at the book in my lap. My pulse is a snare drum. “I need proof.”
“I have Dante’s audio.” She taps her tote. “He ranted for an hour. I recorded it. Oh, and Damien is still alive…”
My breath hitches. Proof. Tangible treason. The thought galvanizes something primal and mean inside me. And what did she just say? Damien… Alive???
