Page 43 of Ruthless Silence
Ana stirs on the couch, the movement making her wince even in sleep. Luca's gaze sharpens, focusing on her bandaged arm with disturbing intensity.
"May I see the wound?"
The question hangs in the air like a threat. I don't bother signing, just position myself more firmly between them. The message is clear: Over my dead body.
Luca laughs, soft and wrong. The sound makes my shoulders tense. "You never did share your toys, brother. Even as children."
"Not. A. Toy." Each sign is violent enough to cut.
"No," he agrees, tilting his head. "She's something else entirely. Something that kills as beautifully as she fucks, I imagine."
The temperature drops. He knows about the desk. How? Cameras? Or just that uncanny ability to see too much? Doesn't matter. What matters is the way he's looking at her, like she's a project he wants to take apart to understand.
Ana's eyes open suddenly, fully alert despite the medication. Her body tenses, recognizing danger before her mind catches up. Smart girl. She looks between us, reading the tension, and her good hand moves subtly toward where she keeps her knife.
"You must be Luca," she says, voice rough from sleep but steady.
"The psycho brother." He says it cheerfully, like it's a title he's earned. "Yes."
She looks to me, and I see her cataloging everything. My position, my tension, the way I'm using my body as a shield. Her eyes ask a question I can't answer: Is he dangerous to me?
Yes. Always. Especially now that he's interested.
"Did you enjoy it?" Luca asks suddenly, stepping closer.
I shift to block him, but he just smiles and continues.
"Killing them. The blood. The way the light leaves their eyes. Did it make you wet?"
Ana's hand moves again toward the knife, and I catch the slight tremor in her fingers. Not fear. Recognition. She sees what he is, what he could do.
"That's an inappropriate question," she says carefully.
"Is it?" Luca's head tilts the other way. "You killed for my brother. That's intimate. More intimate than fucking, really. Sex is just bodies. But killing for someone? That's souls touching."
He takes another step toward her, and I grab his wrist. Warning. First and final.
The brothers' standoff lasts three heartbeats. His pale blue eyes meet mine, and for a moment, I see the thing that lives under his skin. The reason even hardened killers cross the street to avoid him. Then he smiles, wrong and bright, and pulls back.
"Touchy," he observes. "Just like that night."
"What night?" Ana asks from the couch, good hand rubbing her injured arm.
"The night everything changed." Luca's watching her now with disturbing focus. "Ten years ago. You have his eyes."
"Whose eyes?"
"The dead man's." His smile widens. "All dead men have the same eyes eventually. That surprised recognition when they realize it's over."
My hands move sharply: "Leave. Now."
"Did I upset you?" He asks it innocently, but we both know better. Everything Luca does is calculated for maximum damage.
He moves toward the door, then pauses, studying Ana one more time. "I could teach you things," he offers conversationally. "Perfect your form. That knife work could use refinement."
My hand slams against the wall, the sound echoing through the room. Both Ana and Luca freeze. The message is clear without words or signs. That's never happening. The thought of Luca getting his hands on Ana, teaching her his particular brand of violence…
"Interesting," Luca murmurs. "Such a violent response to protect her."
