Page 60 of The Dead Don't Talk
It feels like it takes forever for him to listen, though I know that he heard me. I can feel it in the way his arm softens just the tiniest bit.
Finally, he relents and releases the man with a shove deeper into the cushions beneath him.
The resulting gasp of air feels like it steals all the rest of it from the room only a moment before the elder’s croaking demands. None of them make sense, but all of them make me sweat as Wilson backs us up, his arms banded around a seething Moros.
The pressure of being gawked at registers next, and I swivel around to see sets of eyes aimed right at us.
Oh, shit.
Kyrt steps up first, sight dropping to Moros’s pumping chest that’s wrapped back up on Wilson’s arms, then to the crumpled elder yelling from the cushions.
“He always did make the orgies awkward,” Kyrt whispers to us as he crowds in close, putting himself between us and them. Relief barely has a chance to flood me before those stupid eyes and blinding grin swing back up to my Moros. “Take him to detention, please.”
No.
Nonononono!
Chapter 30
Can’t hold me back
Moros
Igo willingly. Woefully.With a pain in my chest that I can no longer ignore.
The dots inked across my skin itch in Wilson’s clammy grasp, his palm shaking against me.
Heavy. It all feels heavy.
“I should have done that ten years ago.”
“Don’t say anything else,” he mutters low enough to try and mask the irritation but it’s failing.
“Why?” I jerk my arm from his grip and spin on him. “Why not tell the world?”
“Because the world stopped listening a long time ago.”
I scoff. “Maybe it should start again. Because that motherfucker deserves to die for what he did.”
“You hurt him, Moros. We had a deal.”
“A deal he regularlybroke,” I snap. “By keeping me contained, and youexiled.”
I shake my head and continue on the path down the long corridor that leads to the basement. I’ve been here before. I know what happens when I get to the cell filled with those too infected to deal with quietly.
It’s the same one I was put in last time I attacked the man that claims to be my father, who has abandoned me at every chance he got from the time I was twelve.
Anything to dispose of the infected one. The one named for Death.
But Wilson seems to be clinging onto expectations. Hope. A dream, maybe.
But I assaulted an elder—one that deserved it the most—and that’s punishable by death.
How ironic.
Chapter 31
It’s like rain
