Page 4 of The Silencer

Whiskey.

If this were any other time, I’d crack a joke about how he should stop trying to turn me on. But I can’t speak.

I can’t get anything out. My throat is sore, and it hurts to breathe.

“Don’t. Don’t try to speak,” Anthony’s voice is low and soft as I stare over at him. “You need to rest.”

But I can’t, not with how my body hurts.

A tear slips from my eye, and I swipe at it, wincing when my fingers graze over a cut on my cheek.

Another clink of the ice, a swallow from across the room, and then the patter of footsteps as they make their way over to me.

I peer up and see Anthony looming over me, his brow furrowed, his dark eyes narrowing.

“The doctor said you’d be okay with rest. Nothing’s broken, just bruises.”

I nod and feel another tear slip from my eye. A soft brush of his thumb steals it away, and I sigh. Everything hurts, but that. His touch. It feels good.

It feels right.

“Thank you.”

It’s all I can say, a low rasp of words and feelings, desperate and needy.

He doesn’t answer, and I can’t cope with the thought of him angry that I inconvenienced him. That perhaps he wishes he hadn’t gotten involved. I’m usually loud and confident, full of snark and purpose, but right now, I’m reduced to a crying, sniveling mess.

I don’t want him to see me like this, to see me at my weakest. So I shut him out, closing my eyes and letting my mind drift. I will come out of this stronger, fiercer—but right now, I’m going to just let myself be. I’m going to let myself hurt.

I’ll remember this.

And I’ll be stronger because of it.

2

ANTHONY

Itake the steps down to the basement without a backward glance. The door to the shed above ground closes with a bang, and I hear the click of the lock from the outside.

Good. Shut me in.

No one should come down here. Unless they’ve been invited.

And the only ones who are down here now have been summoned and escorted.

Against their will.

No one would come to hell for fun.

And no one ever comes out alive.

I hear their screams and pleas as soon as I enter the labyrinth of tunnels that I carved out under the back yard of my property over twenty years ago. I make my way to the right as lights flicker overhead, and I pick up the pace.

This is the land of the dead. I keep their bodies here, buried deep within the earth—entombed in the catacombs.

Another scream causes goosebumps to explode across my skin.

Yes. They should feel it.

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