Page 83 of Silent Oaths
Notonly did she cook for herself, but she made enough to feed all four of us.
Itwasn’t just a meal; it was an offering.
Asilent peace offering, oneIdidn’t miss.
Itfeels like a subtle dance, this back-and-forth we’ve found ourselves in.Shekeeps her distance, but she no longer complains that she’s still here, caged like a bird with clipped wings.
Everyday, a little more of her breaks through her walls, andIcan’t help but wonder if she even notices it.
Rightnow, she’s lying on the couch, stretched out on her stomach, her elbows propped up as she sifts through more files.
I’msitting across from her, going through some old tomesJulianbrought back from the archives, my mind half on the words in front of me, half on her.Shedoesn’t know it, butI’mwatching her again, the way she flips through the papers with such focus.She’sso beautiful when she’s absorbed in something.Herhair falls in waves, dark and messy, spilling across her back as she bends over the files.Thecurves of her body shift with every movement as her shirt pulls tight over her skin.Ican’t help but admire everything about her.It’slike she carved herself a place in my mind, somethingIcan’t shake even ifIwanted to.
Isthis love?
Thethought drifts in like a whisper on the wind, soft yet impossible to ignore.I’venever known love before—never dared to reach for something so vast and consuming—but if this isn’t love, then what else could make her feel like a melody woven into my very being?
Sixmonths.
That’show long she’s been here, and in that time, she has seeped into our lives like ink staining paper.
Permanent, inescapable.
Isabelis no longer just our captive.She’spart of us now, entwined in waysIdon’t think any of us expected.
Juliandoes everything to make her comfortable, even though he doesn’t have to.Heremembers the little things: her favorite foods, the snacks she likes, the way she takes her coffee.He’salways drawing her, filling page after page with sketches of her face.
Maxwelllooks atIsabellike she’s some impossible illusion he’s afraid will vanish if he glances away for even a second.She’shis greatest act, his most dangerous gamble, and he takes any excuse to slip into her room at night.
Ifwe were ever meant to let her go, that time has long since passed.
Itake a deep breath, leaning back in my chair and allowing myself a moment to just look at her.Mychest tightens, andIfeel that familiar burn of wanting her, of needing to possess the space she occupies.Butfor now,Isettle for this—admiring her from a distance, savoring the way she has become such a fixture in my life.
Shehas always been a puzzle, but lately,Ifeel like she’s slowly revealing herself to me, bit by bit.
Iglance over at her, tilting my head asIstudy her. “Foundanything interesting?”Iask.
Shedoesn’t immediately respond.Instead, she flips another page, her eyes scanning the documents.Shedoesn’t look up at me, butIsee the way her lips tighten slightly.
“It’sall connected,” she says after a beat. “Vanguard, theSotelofamily…It’sall tangled up in a wayIcan’t quite piece together yet, butIwill.”
Ican’t stop the smirk that pulls at my lips. “Good.You’regetting closer.”
Isabelsuddenly shoots up from the couch.Hereyes are wide, her pulse practically visible in her neck. “OhmyGod,” she breathes, the excitement in her voice unmistakable. “Thisis it.Thisis it!”
Sherushes to the dining room table, her hands flying through the scattered books and papers.Thesound of pages turning frantically fills the silence.
Julian’sheavy footsteps thud down the stairs, and within seconds, he’s standing in the doorway. “What’sgoing on?”
Isabelholds up a finger, silencing him as she digs through the mess with newfound determination.
Aftera moment, she pulls something from the pile and looks at me, her gaze locked on mine as she holds the paper between us. “Yousaid theWhitmoresand theAddingtonswere the main founders ofEbonridge, right?”
Inod. “Yeah.Theirlegacy is tied to everything here.”
Julianwatches the exchange closely, but he stays quiet, lettingIsabelcontinue her line of questioning.
Isabelpulls another sheet of paper from the pile, her fingers trembling slightly as she holds it up.Hereyes lock onto mine with an intensity that matches the surge of unease creeping up my spine.
