Page 122 of Broken By Silence
Lottie turns, looking at all of us through tears, and when Elijah pulls her into his arms and kisses her—really kisses her this time, not out of panic, protection, or fear—everything feels right.
We all move then, pulling her into our arms and kissing her like it might be the last time. Once we’re done, she pulls back, her lips puffy and red, but her eyes are happy—truly happy—and I can’t help myself as I pull her closer again. “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
Crew leans over to me and mutters, “You think it’s too soon to ask where we’re spending the honeymoon?”
Roman groans. “Shut up before I shoot you.”
And Lottie… Lottie just laughs.
It’s the kind of sound that chases the ghosts away. The kind that makes everything that came before worth surviving, and all of the guilt I felt for saving her and not Luke dissipates. Not entirely because I think I’ll always hold on to a little piece of it for not being able to save him in time. But just enough to know I was where I was meant to be that night.
Chapter 41
Elijah
My knuckles are white on the steering wheel, not from nerves, but from the violent restraint it takes not to pull over and take my wife right here in the passenger seat.
My wife.
And theirs. But mine, in the way that matters, in the way that leaves marks no ceremony can sanctify. I used to build her in fragments—delusional photographs, fantasies that dissolved at dawn, half-dreams I pretended were memories. None of them touch this.
She was a vision in white, baptized in blood, but she was mine. At last, entirely, irrevocably mine.
“Elijah?” Her voice is soft, laced with confusion. “The hotel is the other way. Where on earth are we going?”
I don’t answer immediately. I just reach over, my fingers finding the bare skin of her thigh. She shivers, a tiny tremor that screams directly to my cock.
She knows… she has to know this was coming.
“I have a wedding gift for you,” I finally say, my voice rough with need. “But it’s private, and the others already know what we’re doing.”
She seems happy with that, nodding and laying her head against the window. We drive for a while longer, in silence, until the city lights dissolve into the black of old woods. The car bounces along a forgotten dirt track, finally rolling to a stop in a small, secluded clearing. The headlight cut through the darkness, illuminating it.
A stone mausoleum stands tall in the middle, surrounded by trees. Doors locked that can only be opened by me. I kill the ignition, plunging us into a silence so deep I can hear the frantic beat of her heart… or maybe it’s mine. I turn to face Lottie, who’s staring at the building with curiosity.
“Is this?”
I don’t answer. I unbuckle my seatbelt and exit the vehicle, taking my keys with me. “I mourned you, Mouse. I told you this,” I say. I’m out of the car and at her door before she can respond. I open it, the interior light washing over her stunned face. I don’t offer her my hand; instead, I wrap my fingers around her wrist, feeling the faint trace of her heartbeat thudding against her skin, and pull her out. She stumbles slightly, but I catch her. I’ll always catch her.
My wife.
“I poured my grief into this cold, fucking stone while you were off starting your new life. This is where I thought you’d be forever. Some shoes and a backpack.”
“Elijah—”
I crush my mouth to hers, swallowing her words. It’s a claiming… a branding. My tongue plunges into the sweet warmth of her mouth, tangling with hers, reminding her… showing her who she truly belongs to.
When I finally break away,we’re both breathless, and then I lead her inside. I unlock the heavy doors, pushing them open, and turning on the light I had installed after I got sick of sitting in the dark every night while I grieved her.
There in the middle of the crypt is a raised grave. A grey marble stone with her name etched into a plaque.
Scarlett Reyes.
My wife.
She freezes, her breath catching in a sharp gasp. Her eyes flick to the headstone to me. “Why did you bring me here?” she asks me.
