Page 29 of Dangerous Silence
A heavy weight settled in my stomach, thinking of that young boy who had been told that there was no saving him. Because that was wrong. He might not have had a soul or a drive to make humanity better, but there was something inside of Axe that cared about others. Why else would he actually style his hair for his brother’s wedding? Why else would he promise to keep me alive? And why would he keep me alive, when we both knew it would be easier for his entire family if I was gone?
He could have left me in that cage. But he hadn’t.
And yet he truly believed that he had no heart.
“I shouldn’t have said that stuff the other day. About therapy. Your past,” I said. I bit my bottom lip. “It was wrong of me to assume I know better than you.”
His lips twitched. I swear it was a half-smile.
“I’m not going to apologize for who I am,” he said, locking eyes with me. “Your father helped to make me this way.”
I ignored the reference to my dad. I didn’t want to know what that meant yet.
“Did you start talking again?” I asked.
“Communicated, somewhat, yes. But other than that, what’s the point?” he shrugged. “You’re the only person who has talked to me this much.”
I sucked in a breath. How was I supposed to take that? Did anyone in his lifewanthim around?
“I’m a killer,” he said. “Nothing, not therapy, not prison, not love—” My lips pressed tight at that word; why had he included love? “Nothingis going to change that.”
“That doesn’t give you an excuse,” I said, bunching my brows. “Just because you had a bad childhood, doesn’t make up for what you’ve done.”
Suddenly, he slammed my body into a tree, pressing me against it. The bark dug into my back, scraping against my bare shoulders. He breathed down on me, sneering. But we were close. So close I could feel every pulse of his body as if it was sewn into mine. His lips, that bottom curve jagged with a scar. For some reason, I wanted that scar on me. I wanted his mouth, his tongue, his teeth pressed into me. To see what happened when he stopped holding himself back from me.
Because there was something inside of him. It might not have been good, or pure, but it was enough. And that’s what kept me alive.
I licked my lips, and his eyes flickered, looking away. He let me go. I stumbled back to the path.
“I’m not trying to argue that,” he said. Then he looked at me, waiting for me to speak.
“Then what are you trying to say?”
He stared at me for a moment. “I don’t know.”
We stood between the tall trees. The faint ticks of insects. The splash of the water on the shore. It was hard to remember that we had both grown up in Sage City, nurtured by the same man, and yet between our fifteen years, we had different lives. We were opposites in so many ways.
But this time, there was no blood on his clothes. No person dying between us. There was no tension to tie him down. It was just Axe.
“Why are you telling me this?” I whispered.
He thought about it, seeming to choose his words carefully.
“You’re sure of what you know,” he said, “but you don’t know the whole story. Your dad wasn’t a butcher.”
I furrowed my brows. Yes, he was. “What do you mean?” I asked.
He sucked in a breath. “I want to show you what I mean. If you’ll let me.”
I bit the inside of my lip. It was raw, chewed to a pulp out of nerves and boredom. Did I want to know who my dad really was?
What would the truth do to me? Could I live without knowing?
No. I couldn’t. I had to know.
“Okay,” I said quietly. “Show me.”
He took my hand; the touch warmed me. The man had shoved a rubber cock down my throat, had tackled me, almost cut off my tongue, but holding his hand made my cheeks flush.
