Page 32 of Silent as Sin
She thrashed, arms locked tight around her chest, lips tearing open on a strangled cry. The sound gutted me.
I pulled her against me, arms wrapping around her small frame, holding her tight but careful. “I’ve got you,” I whispered, keeping my voice calming. “It’s just me. You’re safe. He’s gone. He can’t touch you.”
Her body fought mine at first, wild and desperate, but I didn’t let go. Bit by bit, her sobs broke down, her shaking eased, and she curled closer. Her breath hitched against my chest, damp with sweat, but she didn’t pull away.
I pressed my chin to her hair, the scent of her—soap and something softer underneath—cutting through my senses. My chest ached with it, heavy and deep.
Venom was dead, but his shadow was still here. Still choking her in the dark. And I swore again, like I had the night I found her in that closet—I’d kill him twice over if I could.
I lay there in the silence, holding her while her breathing smoothed out again. My eyes drifted to the window, to the stretch of desert night outside.
Movement caught my eye.
Just a flicker. A shadow against the darker dark. Could’ve been nothing—an animal, the wind in the brush. But my gut tightened.
I eased one arm free without letting her go and thumbed my phone from my pocket. A quick text to the prospect on watch:
Something moved outside. Check the perimeter and report back. Now.
I slipped the phone away and tightened my hold around Wren’s trembling frame. Because if someone was out there watching, they weren’t getting anywhere near her. Not while I breathed.
My thumb hovered over the phone longer than it needed to, waiting.
The seconds dragged, each one slower than the last. I kept my arm locked around Wren, her breathing unsteady against my chest, but my eyes stayed fixed on that stretch of dark desert beyond the window.
Finally, the screen lit up.
Prospect: Walked the perimeter. Didn’t see anything. Probably a coyote.
Probably.
I ground my teeth, shoving the phone back into my pocket. Maybe it was an animal. Maybe the night was playing tricks on me. But my gut wouldn’t let it go.
I glanced down at Wren, her face tucked into my chest, lashes damp, lips parted on soft, uneven breaths. Fragile, but still here. Still fighting, even in her sleep.
Her whisperedyesstill echoed in my chest, stronger than the shadow outside, stronger than Roxy’s perfume, stronger than every ghost clawing at us both.
Didn’t matter if it was a coyote or the devil himself.
If something was out there, it would have to get through me first.
And that wasn’t going to happen.
***
MORNING LIGHT CUTsoft through the blinds, laying pale stripes across the floorboards. My back ached from the awkward angle I’d held most of the night, but I didn’t give a damn. Not when the weight in my arms was Wren.
At some point in the dark, her thrashing had eased, her sobs had broken down, and she’d gone quiet. I’d expected her to pull away once she slipped deeper into sleep. But she hadn’t.
She was still here.
Still curled tight against me, her back pressed to my chest, my arm hooked firm around her waist. Every shift of her breathing brushed warm across my skin.
And when she stirred, her body didn’t jolt away. She sank deeper.
That one small movement damn near split me open.
Women came and went. Bodies, nights, nothing more. I never asked for more, never gave it either. Plenty of nights, plenty of faces. Forgettable. But her trust? That’s the kind of shit that brands a man.
