Page 43 of Silent Oaths
Mychest tightens, andItry to push the rising panic down, but it’s no use.Mybreathing quickens, and my hands shake asIclutch the bag.
Julian’sgaze sharpens. “What’swrong?”
“Getout!”Isnap.
Hedoesn’t move.Instead, he tilts his head slightly, studying me likeI’msome kind of puzzle he’s trying to solve. “Relax, corazón,” he says softly.
Thewords disarm me for a moment, butIshake it off.Idon’t want his concern, his softness, or his awkward attempts at kindness.
“Justgo,”Iseethe, not meeting his eyes.
Julianlingers for a moment, his lips pressing into a thin line.Then, he turns and leaves, closing the door quietly behind him.
* * *
Acouple of hours later,I’mfreshly showered, my skin still warm from the hot water.
Hungergnaws at my stomach, refusing to be ignored any longer.Ihate that my body betrays me like this, that it needs anything from them.Idon’t want to be caught eating afterI’vestubbornly declined almost every meal they’ve offered.
ButIcan’t sleep like this.Mystomach growls again, the sound loud, andIgive in.Quietly, like a mouse,Idecide to sneak down to the kitchen to find something to eat.
Obviously,I’vebeen eating when my body demands it—no one can live on pride alone—butI’vebeen careful not to let them see.
Barefoot,Itiptoe down the stairs.Thehouse is eerily silent, andIcling to the hope that none of the brothers are lurking around.Thelast thingIwant is for one of them to catch me scavenging for food.
Iglance toward the front door asIpass, my eyes automatically drifting to the lock.Stillbolted.ThewindowsI’dtried to pry open my first few days here remain firmly shut; their latches stubbornly unyielding.
Itwas naïve of me to think they’d just leave the house unsecured.Thesemen might be a lot of things, but stupid isn’t one of them.
Thekitchen is dark whenIstep inside.Mybare feet make no sound asImove toward the fridge.
Ihesitate, glancing over my shoulder.
Thefridge hums asIpull the doors open.Iscan the shelves quickly, my eyes landing on a leftover container of pasta.Igrab it, along with a fork from a drawer nearby.
Idon’t bother heating it up.Instead,Islide down to the cold tile floor, my back against the cabinets asIdig in.Thefirst bite is heaven, andIhave to stop myself from moaning.Ieat quickly, shoveling the food into my mouth like someone might snatch it away at any second.
Halfwaythrough,Ipause, fork hovering over the container.Myeyes dart to the shadows at the edge of the room, paranoia prickling at my skin.
Ifinish the meal in record time, barely savoring the last few bites asIscrape the container clean.
Quickly,Iget to my feet, rinsing off the fork and container in the sink.I’mcareful to dry them and place them back exactly where they belong.IfI’mlucky, they won’t even notice.
Iturn to leave, feeling accomplished in my stealth, when a voice cuts through the darkness.
“Iknow you’re there.”
Iscream, my heart leaping into my throat asIstumble back, nearly knocking into the counter.Myeyes dart to the living room, where the voice came from.
Squinting,IspotJulianin the far corner of the room, lounging in a chair under a lamp, his head bent over something in his lap.Apencil is in his hand, moving lightly against the page of what looks like a sketchpad.Hedoesn’t even glance up, like startling me out of my skin wasn’t worth the effort of lifting his head.
“Areyou trying to give me a fucking heart attack?”Isnap, pressing a hand to my chest, still catching my breath.
“You’rethe one sneaking around in the dark, mama,” he replies, unbothered. “I’mjust sitting here.”
Iglare at him, thoughIknow he probably can’t see it. “Whydidn’t you say anything when you saw me?”
Heshrugs, finally glancing up. “Didn’twant to interrupt your meal.Ifigured you’d scream at me or something.”Hesmirks faintly, and my cheeks burn.
