Page 12 of Silent as Sin
Ashen moved then, his broad shoulders stepping into the space between me and the room. His presence blocked half the light, half the stares, and the knot in my chest loosened by the smallest fraction.
“Let’s head into the kitchen,” he murmured.
I didn’t argue. Couldn’t. My feet carried me behind him, step for step.
The room parted as he walked, men shifting without him asking. Like they knew better. Like the weight he carried cleared the way. My shoulder brushed his arm once, a light touch, but enough to remind me he was real. Solid.
The kitchen was quieter. Smaller. The air warmer, filled with the scent of food. A pot steamed on the stove, the smell wrapping around me and pulling at something deep in my stomach.
Jewel stood at the counter, wiping her hands on a towel. She turned, eyes soft, a smile just for me. “There you are, baby. Sit. I’ve got something for you.”
Ashen pulled a chair out from the table, wood scraping the floor. The simple sound made my heart lurch. An invitation, not a command. Still, I froze in the doorway.
On the table sat a bowl, steam curling upward. Soup.
Real food. Hot. Waiting.
Not crusts tossed through a door. Not scraps left on a plate after someone else had eaten their fill. Not whatever Venom shoved at me when he remembered.
My lungs tightened. My hands curled. Eating meant noise. Eating meant vulnerability. Eating meant they saw you.
Ashen’s voice broke the storm in my head. “It’s just us.”
He said it like a promise. Like the words themselves were a shield.
I looked at him. At Jewel. Their eyes weren’t impatient. Just waiting.
But my silence had kept me alive. My silence had been my only weapon.
I stayed in the doorway, body trembling from the war inside me. Hunger screamed, loud and raw. Fear hissed quieter, but deeper.
Jewel’s smile softened. “You don’t have to eat if you’re not ready. The food will keep.” She set the towel aside, voice calm. “But you’re safe in this kitchen. I’ll make sure of it.”
The kept saying that, only I didn’t know what that meant anymore, but they didn’t understand. Still the word made something ache in my chest.
My gaze drifted back to the soup. The steam curled higher, carrying the scent of carrots and broth, herbs I couldn’t name. My throat ached with want. My belly twisted tight.
But still, I couldn’t move.
So I stood. Silent. Waiting.
And let them wait too.
Jewel’s eyes were warm. Ashen’s steady. Neither pushed. Neither demanded.
But they kept waiting.
Not just for me to eat. For me tospeak.
I felt it in the air. The way Jewel’s hand stilled on the towel. The way Ashen’s shoulders tightened as though he carried the weight of my silence himself.
Did they wonder if I couldn’t talk? If my voice was broken? Or if I just wouldn’t?
The truth was, I didn’t know either.
Once, a lifetime ago, words had lived in me. They’d filled my chest, spilled out in laughter, whispered secrets with friends. But then Venom’s hands closed around my throat. Then his lessons carved into my skin: silence was safer.
Silence was survival.
