Page 25 of Silent as Sin
I eased the throttle, kept the ride smooth, steady, like I could will the road itself into something safe. For her. Always for her.
The Arizona sun burned hot above us, heat shimmering off the asphalt in restless waves. The land stretched wide and endless, dusty plains cut through with jagged rock, cacti standing like watchmen against the sky. Out here, the earth carried its scars in plain sight, and somehow that felt fitting. Wren wasn’t the only one marked by what she’d survived.
The wind whipped her laughter into my imagination. I didn’t hear it, but I could damn near feel it in the way her grip changed, less desperate now, more sure. Like maybe she was starting to believe the road could give her more than memories of chains.
My chest went tight.
Venom had stolen everything from her. But here, right now, she was learning how to live again after years in the dark.
And I knew with a bone-deep certainty, if anyone tried to take this from her again, I’d bury them ten feet under the desert clay.
I took the long road out of town, letting the curves eat up the miles until the engine’s constant rumble sank into my bones. Wren clung to me the whole way, her cheek pressed to my back, her breath warm through the leather, calm now instead of frantic.
When I spotted the turnout overlooking the ridge, I eased the bike onto the gravel shoulder. Dust kicked up in lazy swirls before settling again, and the sudden silence after I killed the engine hit hard, broken only by the tick of cooling metal and the wind whispering through dry brush.
She didn’t move at first, arms still wrapped tight around me like she wasn’t ready to let go.
Slow. Careful. I shifted, resting one hand over hers. “I stop here once in a while just to think.”
After a heartbeat, her arms loosened. She slid off the seat, legs shaky, hair tangled wild from the ride.
Fuck, she looked… free.
Her cheeks were flushed from the wind, her eyes brighter, giving me a flash of the woman she must’ve been before. She tipped her face toward the sun, let the heat and air play over her skin, and for a second I swore I caught the ghost of a smile tugging at her mouth.
Behind her, the desert rolled wide, ochre hills scattered with mesquite and cactus, distant ridges jagged against the endless sky. The light poured gold over everything, stark and beautiful, a reminder that even harsh places could hold life.
I swung off the bike and leaned against it, giving her space. She needed that more than anything, room to claim the air around her without anyone crowding in.
She stood there for a long moment, eyes sweeping over the landscape, shoulders rising and falling with slow, deliberate breaths.
Then her gaze flicked to me.
Just a glance, quick and sharp, but it pinned me harder than any stare I’d ever taken.
There was something in her eyes—trust, yes, but layered with something else. Something I wasn’t sure she even understood yet. Want.
Her lips parted like she was about to speak, and my heart kicked hard in my chest. But no sound came. She closed them again, frustration flashing across her face.
I didn’t push. Didn’t ask.
Instead, I gave her the only thing I could—patience.
“Wind feels good out here,” I said softly.
Her throat worked, and then she gave the smallest nod. But the way she looked at me lingered. Long enough that the silence between us felt thick, charged. And I knew right then this wasn’t just about getting her out into the sun.
It was about something breaking open.
Something we both weren’t ready to name.
Her gaze held mine a heartbeat too long, and the weight of it pressed down on my chest, made the air feel thicker.
The wind picked up, tugging strands of her hair across her face. She reached up to brush it back, but her hand faltered, trembling with the effort.
Before I could think better of it, I pushed off the bike and closed the small distance between us. I moved slow, careful, giving her every chance to pull away.
She didn’t.
