Page 39 of Silent as Sin
The floor creaked.
My body locked, every muscle ready to shield, to fight. Then I saw who it was.
Elara slipped into the doorway like she belonged in silence. A mug in her hand, steam curling up soft and lazy.
“Hey.” Her voice was quiet, not command, not judgment. Still scraped raw against the moment. Wren had just handed me something sacred, and now someone else stood in the aftertaste of it.
I almost told her to leave. To give it back to us. But Wren didn’t flinch. Didn’t move. She turned her gaze on Elara—calm, open, steady in a way that shut my mouth.
Elara crossed slow, careful steps. Set the mug down with a clink too loud in the hush. “Chamomile,” she said, eyes on Wren. “Good for the mind.”
Wren’s grip eased around the bird. Shoulders dropped half an inch. Not much, but enough.
Elara didn’t crowd her. Didn’t press. Just set her hand on the table, close but not touching. “You don’t have to drink it,” she murmured. “Sometimes it’s enough just knowing someone thought to bring it.”
Wren looked at the cup. Looked back. No words, just a nod.
The air shifted. A calm I couldn’t give her. Because Elara had something I didn’t: soft hands, quiet certainty. No leather, no iron, no blood. She could offer Wren a kind of peace I’d never touch.
Didn’t mean I had to like it.
Elara’s eyes cut to me, measuring. I stared back until she turned away. “You can talk to me,” she told Wren. “Anytime.”
Wren didn’t answer her. She looked at me.
That look burned hotter than the hug. Like she needed to know I was still here. Still hers to count on.
I gave her a small nod. A promise. She blinked slow in reply, like accepting a challenge. The air steadied, sharp as a storm about to break.
Elara rose, smoothed her dress. Paused in the doorway. “Warden’s looking for you.”
My jaw ticked. Of course he was. Business never waited.
I looked back at Wren. She clutched the bird in both hands, eyes wide and trusting, cutting through the noise of the world until only she was left. “I’ll be back,” I said low. A vow.
Something flickered in her eyes. Not refusal. Not surrender. Just something that asked me to stay. She shifted her shoulders, close enough to a nod. Then she lifted a book, held it up in a small, awkward promise she’d be all right.
I let that carry me. Gave her one last look, burning hot in my chest. Then I turned for the hall.
The door clicked shut behind me. Sharp as a gunshot.
Noise slammed back in, laughter, glasses clinking, voices riding high. My boots hit the floor heavy, every step dragging me from what I’d left in that room and back toward the mess waiting for me.
Brothers glanced up. Curiosity, suspicion, the usual shit. I ignored it. Let them look. Let them talk.
In the main room, Wreck tipped his chin. Warden stood by the pool table, Rex talking fast, adrenaline still dripping from his voice. Warden’s eyes cut to me, sharp, and the weight of business snapped back into place.
I rolled my shoulders, shoved the memory of Wren down deep where no one could touch it. Contraband. For the first time in too long to remember, I had something to fight for that wasn’t territory or profit. Something small. Something raw. Something bigger than all of it.
I stepped into the ring of men, voice steady even when my chest burned.
“Warden.”
Time to be the wall. Time to be the teeth.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
THE DESERT HEATbaked the road, waves of glarerising off the asphalt as the four of us thundered down the highway. My cut clung to the sweat on my back, grit stinging at the edges of my vision, but I didn’t ease up. Warden rode point, steady as a damn rock. The twins ran side by side behind him, bikes growling like animals with a mind for blood.
