Page 116 of Broken By Silence
The officiant begins to speak. I don’t hear the words. They melt into a dull drone, like white noise.
“Do you, Lorenzo Valen, take Scarlett Reyes to be your lawfully wedded wife?”
“I do.” His voice is happy like he’s been waiting to say it all his life.
The officiant turns toward me. “And do you, Scarlett?—”
Tracey digs the gun into my side, hard enough to bruise. The cold press through the lace reminds me of what happens if I don’t play along. My lips part, but no sound comes out. My throat is dry, the words caught somewhere between terror and defiance. The officiant hesitates, glancing between us. The silence stretches for too long. Lorenzo squeezes my fingers, the gesture meant to look tender, but the pressure behind it is a warning.
“I do,” I whisper. The words taste like ash.
Lorenzo’s grin blooms—sharp and victorious.
The officiant nods, smiling as though love is what fills the air, not fear. “Before we continue, as tradition dictates…” He looks out at the crowd, spreading his arms with a serene smile. “If anyone here has reason why these two should not be joined in holy matrimony, speak now, or forever hold your peace.”
The garden goes silent. The wind stills. Even the music fades into nothing. My heart pounds so hard it hurts. No one moves. No one speaks.
And then a voice cuts through the quiet. Rough, steady, and unmistakably familiar. “I object…”
Chapter 39
Elijah
We’re spread around the table in the hotel room, paper cups of coffee now gone cold. Blueprints of Lorenzo’s estate stare up at us—rooms, gates, patrol routes marked in red.
Crew paces the length of the room, jaw working, the vein at his temple thudding. Oscar’s leaning against the wall, arms folded, eyes cold and far away. Archer’s reassembling his gun methodically. Roman is talking through where each gate is, and even an entrance he’s sure Lorenzo doesn’t know exists.
Me? I’m watching the clock like it’s a live wire.
What is she going through in there?
He hasmy wife, and I’m going to kill him for touching her, just like I did my dad.
Will and Claire stand together at the edge of the table. Will’s in his suit but his tie’s loose, shoes scuffed… he’s put together but he’s just as much of a mess as the rest of us. Claire is the opposite, braid down her back, shoulders pulled back as she forces us to keep it together… for her.
Then there’s Peter.
We had to tell him what happened, and he demanded to come with us back to their home state, where Lorenzo brought her. He looks smaller than I’ve ever seen him, his hands trembling as he clutches at a photo of Lottie when she was a child. He’s raw in a way we’re not supposed to be on a job like this. Grief makes you vulnerable and dangerous.
It’s a lethal combo that always ends with someone dead.
Crew drove out theretwo hours ago to do recon and get us information.
“It’s definitely a wedding.” Crew says, finally, breaking the silence. His voice is gravel, scraped raw. “He’s got guards posted at every exit and along the perimeter. Tracey’s with her.”
At that name, Peter’s face twists. “Tracey?” His voice breaks. “She’s hurting heragainfor her own good.” His fist slams the map so hard it buckles the paper, and we all watch as he breaks it into pieces.
I step forward, trying to steady my voice even though my own blood’s boiling. “We’ll get her out. I swear it.”
He shakes his head violently. “I’m going with you.”
“You can’t come,” Roman says before I even have time to. He’s not being cruel, but he’s right.
“You think I’m going to sit here while my daughter?—”
“You’ll slow us down,” Roman tells him honestly. “We can’t protect you and her at the same time.”
Peter’s breathing hard, like he’s seconds away from shattering. “She’s my little girl,” he whispers. “I should’ve protected her the first time. I won’t fail her again.”
