Page 48 of Silent as Sin
“Yeah,” I said, my jaw tight. “We walked out breathing, but next time it could be different. And if they get to you before we find them…”
The words dried in my throat. I couldn’t say it.
She was shaking now, small tremors under the blanket. Her lips parted once, no sound coming, then closed again.
“Wren.” I leaned in, forcing her to see me, to hear me. “I’m not asking for every detail. I’m asking for anything. A name. A face. A voice. Something I can use to put these bastards in the ground before they get to you.”
For a long moment, all I heard was her breathing, ragged and uneven.
Then her lips moved again.
One word. Barely a whisper.
“Bones.”
The sound of it carved through me. Not just because it was the first time she’d given me a name, but because I knew that name.
A Fire Dragon.
I held her gaze, my chest burning. “You did good,” I said, rough, fierce. “Real fucking good.”
She flinched, eyes darting down like she regretted it the second it left her mouth.
I reached out slow, my hand brushing hers where it clutched the blanket. “No one touches you, Wren. Not while I’m breathing. You trust me on that.”
Her eyes lifted, uncertain, shining.
And even with the war pressing in, even with my blood boiling at what she’d just handed me, one thing anchored me to the ground: She trusted me enough to speak.
And I’d burn the world down before I let her pay for it.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
THE DEAD BIRDSwouldn’t leave me alone. Theysat heavy in my head, eyes sharp like they knew me, like they blamed me. Beaks clenched tight, like they’d tried to sing and got choked quiet. Once alive. Now nothing but stillness, and it dug at me until the ache answered back.
I sat on Ashen’s bed, the dip of the mattress still holding him, clutching the glass bird he’d given me. It fit in my palm like a promise I didn’t trust, one wrong move and it’d shatter. The lamp caught on its edges and threw a shaky feather of light across the ceiling. I told myself it was warm. It wasn’t.
When Ashen said he’d almost been killed, it broke something in me. I thought my silence kept me safe, kept the worst lockedout. I was wrong. The danger wasn’t just mine. It followed him too, step for step.
Bones. Just saying his name in my head felt like dragging barbed wire through my throat. Venom’s right hand. The man who’d looked at me like I was nothing more than a secret to bleed out of me. My chest tightened, air stuck in my lungs. He won’t stop until I’m gone. And the dead birds seemed to nod.
There was a time I begged for it to end. I’d whispered to Venom in the dark, begged him to just finish me, let the pain stop. Back then, death had sounded like peace. Now it sounded like theft. Because for the first time in years, I wanted something.
If I died tomorrow, I’d regret one thing.
Not letting myself absorb everything Ashen made me feel.
The thought was clean, raw. Not revenge. Not freedom. Not even safety. Just him. The way his jaw locked when he stood close, the grip of his hands—on the bars of his bike, on anyone dumb enough to cross him. The way he said my name like it meant something.
I turned the glass bird in my hand until it pressed cool into my skin, then held it to my chest like it might keep me steady. My voice was small, but it came anyway, shaky in the dark.
“I want to be with you,” I whispered, like the shadows could carry it to him. “All of you. To feel it. To want you. To not be scared of asking.”
My hands shook, and I let them. Saying it was like stepping off a curb not knowing if the road was there. If he turned away, I’d live with the shame, carry it like a stone in my pocket. But if he didn’t? If he took me, wanted me the same way? Then maybe I could breathe without fear. Maybe I could sleep without waiting for walls to close in.
I pushed up off the bed, the mattress sighing behind me. The glass bird had warmed against my palm; I slid it into my pocket like it was sacred and crossed to the door.
The hallway light cut across my face as I opened it. Voices carried from the common room, rough and alive. I thought of Bones having someone inside this clubhouse, the way time suddenly felt thin, running out.
