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He tuts. “Why?”

I twist out of Dean’s grip and step around him, but he catches my hand gently. He looks confused, even a little hurt, and I wonder whether I imagined it.

He called me Q.

Fear is your body’s way of warning you. Something is wrong, someone is here, you have to run, fight, scream. For years, I was afraid. Of my family. Of my life. My dad insisted that the only way to truly conquer terror was to immerse yourself in it, scream until your throat is hoarse, cry until your eyes are swollen shut.

“I’ll carve the fear into you, Silence. It’s the only way you’ll survive.”

And he did. Over and over and over again.

I hated him for it. I hoped that fear would kill him, or that maybe I’d grow up and be strong enough to do it.

Until one day, his lessons saved me.

And now they’ll save me again.

I’m in danger. Alone, in a room, with a man who knows something he shouldn’t. My fear should kill me.

Instead, it fuels me.

I throw my fist into Dean’s face, pain smashing into my knuckles. I’m out of practice, so I doubt it hurts much, but it’s the surprise that has him stumbling back. I dart for the door, but before I can take more than a step, Dean clasps his hand around my bicep and throws me. My chest hits the wall, and then he’s on me, my hands pinned behind my back, his lips against my ear.

“We’ll wait for your husband then, shall we?”

Chapter 7

Silence

Dean yanks me back, and I almost stumble in my heels as he sits me on one of the sofas. My hand is throbbing, and I’m surprised I didn’t break something with how hard he threw me into the wall.

He touches his nose, wriggling it. “Why did you do that?”

“You were trying to scare me,” I say through gritted teeth. “You think I don’t know a power play when I hear it? How do you know me? Who are you?”

“A friend,” he insists, his tone patronizing, as if that was at all clear. I look toward the door, but there’s no chance I’d get to it. He could easily trip me. Still, I stare at the exit. On the few occasions we had a conversation about his work, Zayden warned me about this. If Dean is after Zayden by going through me, there’s a chance he’ll take me. If he was going to kill me, he’d have done it already. The window to escape is shortening with every second. “Look at me.”

I don’t. I can’t.

Run, Silence.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you.” His voice climbs across my skin, digging free a memory buried beneath years of being Silence Silver. A little girl crying on a basement floor, hands wrapped, blood across her face.

“Look at me, Silence.”

“Look at your father!”

I raise my eyes, my body close to vibrating with adrenaline. Dean smiles softly, and I wonder if it’s my survival instinct or muscle memory that has me wanting to cling to my attacker. When my father would apologize, I’d accept it. It was easier to do that than waste my energy with anger.

“I’m just trying to make you strong, Silence.”

I believed him, because despite the pain, I loved him. He was my dad. And it wasn’t all bad, so …

Maybe that’s my approach here. Maybe I can mold myself into someone who won’t fight back, and then I can run.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I’m sorry I hit you.”

Dean approaches and crouches before me, tucking my hair behind my ear. “I’m sorry I scared you. It was a slip of the tongue … I should have been honest with you, but …” His gaze flicks across my face, a strange, unsettling sense of longing in his expression. “I’ve waited so long for this.” Someone knocks, and I pull in a sharp breath as my eyes dart to the door. “Scream, and I’ll snap your neck.”