Page 29 of Silent as Sin
I pushed through the hallway, boots pounding heavy against the wood, the dim light throwing long shadows on the walls. My chest burned with one thought, finding her. Making sure she was all right.
“Ashen!”
Throttle’s voice carried loud behind me. I didn’t slow, but his stride was long enough that he caught up quick, falling into step at my shoulder.
“You looking for Wren?” he asked, glancing toward the far end of the hall.
“Yeah.” I replied, wondering what the hell he wanted.
Throttle scratched his jaw, his eyes narrowing as he studied me. “Then I gotta say something. Don’t know if you saw, but Roxy showed up.”
“I saw.”
He gave me a sideways look. “You two got history. And if you’re planning on fucking around with her again, then maybe you oughta let me handle Wren from here on out. Girl’s been through enough, she doesn’t need to watch you taking Roxy to bed in between looking out for her.”
I stopped dead, boots biting into the floorboards. I turned slow to face him, heat flaring hot in my chest. “You think I’d do that to her?”
Throttle lifted both hands, palms out, calm but not backing down. His tone stayed level, but his eyes didn’t waver. “I’m saying I don’t know what you’d do. But Idoknow Wren’s fragile as hell right now, and she trusts you. If you’re not serious about looking out for her, then step aside and let someone else make damn sure she’s safe.”
My fists curled tight. “I told Roxy to take a walk. You know I was never serious about her. I never made it a secret I was just fucking around. Wren is my priority.”
That made him blink. Surprise flickered, then his mouth curved into a slow smirk. “Just making sure. Thought maybe you’d forget once she batted her lashes and flashed her tits. You sure you won’t change your mind?”
“You’re starting to piss me off.” My voice dropped, rough, iron-hard. “I’m a man of my word. You question that, you’re questioning me.”
Throttle studied me for a beat, then nodded once, his smirk fading into something steadier. “Fair enough. Wasn’t trying to get under your skin. Just had to say it. If you hadn’t told me straight, I’d have put my own cut between Wren and whatever danger is coming. Girl deserves to feel safe. That’s all I’m after.”
The muscle in my jaw twitched, my anger shifting. Not gone—never gone—but tempered by the truth in his words.
“Wren’s mine to look after,” I said, final as a vow.
Throttle’s grin edged back in, but this time he didn’t push it. He just turned and walked the other way.
But the knot in my chest didn’t ease.
Because even with Roxy shut down, even with Throttle backing off, one truth burned through me, I was becoming one possessive fuck. I started walking down the hall again towards Wren’s room. I needed to talk to her, before she convinced herself she didn’t matter.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
THE ROOM WASquiet, the muffled thrum of voicesfrom the clubhouse fading to nothing behind the closed door. The quiet wasn’t peace, though, it pressed heavy against me, thick with the echoes of whispers I couldn’t shake.
I sat cross-legged on the bed, scraps of folded paper scattered in a wide arc around me. My fingers moved automatically. Crease, fold, press. Another bird took shape, its fragile wings stretching upward like it wanted to escape.
The flock lay across the blanket, dozens of them, pale and weightless, waiting for a freedom I could never give them.
I kept folding, even as my chest pulled tight and my throat ached. Every time I tried to push away the image of her—Roxy,bold and beautiful, red lips curving around Ashen’s name—it pressed sharper. Her perfume, her laugh, her confidence. All of it lingered like smoke, choking me.
He’s been with her. Barely leaves her side.
The whispers replayed over and over until they drowned out my own thoughts. My hand trembled, the fold biting uneven into the paper. I pressed harder, hard enough the crease nearly tore straight through.
The door opened.
My head jerked up, heart slamming against my ribs. For a breath, panic clawed through me—then I saw him.
Ashen.
He filled the doorway, broad shoulders shadowing the hall behind him. The harsh overhead light caught in the strands of his hair, the ink curling over his forearms, the hard set of his jaw.
