Page 34 of Silent as Sin
Her laugh came louder, exaggerated, but it rang hollow. Not with Throttle watching.
Her hatred still burned, hot as the desert sun, but I pulled the blanket tighter around my shoulders, hating that I couldn’t seem to get warm enough since leaving that crawlspace, and dared a glance at him. He sat calm as ever, like he was ready to stand between me and anything that came too close.
It didn’t silence the venom simmering in Roxy’s eyes, but it eased the edge of fear in my chest. I had witnessed some cruelwomen over the last few years, I knew what they were capable of. Men weren’t the only sadistic monsters out there.
Throttle nodded toward the table where a few of my paper birds rested, wings folded sharp and precise. “You make a lot of those.” His tone was quiet, almost thoughtful.
My breath caught. I didn’t answer.
He didn’t look at me, only at the birds. “They’re freedom, right? Something that can fly when you can’t.”
Heat pricked behind my eyes, intense and sudden. My fingers twisted in the blanket, wishing I could tell him he was right.
He leaned back, folding his arms. “Don’t let anyone laugh at that, they don’t need to get it, but I do.”
The anxiety inside me eased with his words. He didn’t press, didn’t expect me to say anything back. Just sipped his coffee and kept watch like nothing more needed to be said.
I found myself giving him a smile.
Throttle was more than he appeared, and I liked him.
He noticed, of course. His gaze flicked from his coffee to me, and the corner of his mouth curved, not wide, not cocky, just enough to tell me he understood.
He didn’t say anything, and he didn’t need to. The quiet stretched between us, even and calm, like the simple fact of him being there was enough.
Across the room, Roxy’s laughter spiked again, brittle around the edges. When I glanced her way, her eyes were already on me, pointed and cutting.
But this time, it didn’t sting as deep.
Because Throttle was watching too, calm as stone, and I knew she wouldn’t dare move closer.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
TOWN ALWAYS FELTdifferent when you rode in wearing your cut.
Eyes followed. Always. Some narrowed, like knives cutting across the distance. Some lingered too long before sliding away, pretending they hadn’t been staring. Didn’t matter. I’d been getting those looks half my life. They didn’t bother me anymore.
What bothered me was what we were here for.
Warden and I had split, he’d gone into the courthouse to dig through deeds, trying to figure out who owned that stretch of ranch where we’d found Wren. I’d hit the department store ablock down to pick her up some clothes, something that wasn’t borrowed from Elara or stretched thin with wear. Something that was hers.
We’d keep it short. Grab what we needed. Head back. Nothing out of the ordinary.
Or so I thought.
When I stepped back into the sun, heat rising off the asphalt in shimmering waves, my eyes went straight to my bike parked at the curb.
And froze.
Something white stood out against the black leather of the seat.
A note.
Not a flyer, not some scrap blown by the wind. Deliberate. A torn piece of lined paper, taped down, black ink scrawled heavy enough to nearly rip through the sheet.
My chest tightened as I yanked it free, fingers already curling hard before my eyes even hit the words.
Get rid of the girl. Or die with her.
