Page 578 of Rage

Shattered Silence

By: L.B. Martin

Chapter One

Raine

The rain hammers against the grimy windows of Double Edged Bar & Grill, the dimly lit dive bar where I work. Each drop is a reminder of the darkness I can’t escape. The place reeks of spilled beer and lost dreams, a fitting backdrop for my life. I wipe down the counter, my movements mechanical, my mind elsewhere, as Jason’s words echo in my head—words that leave deeper scars than his fists.

The bell above the door jingles, and I look up to see a figure stepping in from the storm. He’s tall and impossibly handsome, with chiseled features and a rugged, dangerous allure.Huxley Rhodes. The bouncer and man everyone fears.His presence is commanding, his broad shoulders and muscular frame effortlessly cutting through the haze of smoke and cheap alcohol. He brushes off the rain from his jacket and surveys the room with a predatory gaze. His dark hair falls in messy waves around his face, and his stormy gray eyes are filled with an intensity that’s both captivating and terrifying.

There’s a darkness that shrouds him, a sense of controlled violence that makes it clear he’s not someone to be trifled with. But there’s also something else—a protectiveness, a fiercedetermination that makes me wonder if maybe, just maybe, he’s not the monster I thought he was.

His eyes lock onto mine for a moment, but I quickly look away, fearing he might see the marks Jason left on my arm. Huxley has only been here for about a month, and he never says more than a few words. But something about him—the way he carries himself, the intensity in his gaze—makes me believe that seeing these bruises would bring out a side of him I’ve never seen. It’s irrational, really; I know next to nothing about him. Still, an instinctive need to hide away from him surfaces. I definitely don’t need more trouble than I’m already in.

Huxley moves through the room with the grace of a panther, every step purposeful and controlled. He has an aura of danger that makes the usual drunks and lowlifes steer clear. I watch him out of the corner of my eye as he takes his spot at the end of the bar, scanning the patrons with a practiced vigilance.

“Another rough night, huh?” comes a voice beside me. I turn to see Bree, a fellow bartender and the closest thing I have to a confidante in this hellhole. Bree’s gaze drops to the fresh bruises peeking out from under my sleeve, and her expression darkens.

“I’m fine,” I lie, forcing a smile that doesn’t reach my eyes. I pull my sleeve down, trying to hide the evidence of Jason’s rage, but she isn’t fooled. Bree opens her mouth to say something, but before she can a commotion erupts near the back of the bar.

The bar is alive with the sound of laughter and clinking glasses, but that all comes to a grinding halt the moment Jason's gruff voice pierces through the ambiance.

"Raine!" he bellows, staggering forward with that familiar swaying gait of his, eyes wild with anger. It feels like time slows as I realize Jason is drunk–again.

Fear clenches my stomach, my body freezes on the spot as the tiniest piece of glass shatters somewhere behind him, a sharpnote of danger hanging in the air. My heart skips a beat, its rhythm erratic.

But before I can run, Huxley is already in motion, a silent guardian stepping between Jason and me. His broad shoulders effectively block the view of my boss.

"Leave her alone," Huxley growls, his voice low and menacing, each word a simple command.

Jason doesn't pay heed; his sneer drips with contempt as he tries to push past Huxley, his drunken bravado seeming to make him think he has the upper hand.

"This is my bar, Rhodes. You don’t tell me what to do. Know your fucking place and move aside!"

The crowd holds its breath, their gazes darting between the two men like spectators at a boxing match. Huxley’s grip tightens, catching Jason's wrist in a vice-like hold.

"I said, leave her alone," he repeats, his tone so calm it’s almost chilling.

Jason struggles against the hold, rage visibly bubbling within him.

"I’ll call the cops! You think they will believe a bouncer over the owner? I’ll ruin you!" His threats only thicken the tension, but Huxley’s demeanor remains fearlessly composed.

"Go ahead, Jason. Call them. I’m sure they’d love to hear that you’re threatening your employees. And while you’re at it, maybe you can explain those fresh bruises on Raine’s arms." Huxley's words pierce through Jason’s drunken haze, eliciting shock from the crowd.

Jason’s narrowed eyes dart between Huxley and me, and I can feel the accusation lurking beneath his words.

"So that’s it, huh? You’re screwing him now? You little slut. Of course you’d spread those fat thighs for this punk ass. Just wait until your father hears."

Every word feels like a knife, but the cold grip of fear drowns out any possibility of striking back. My heart races as Huxley’s hand tightens around Jason’s wrist.

"Watch your fucking mouth," he warns, each syllable dripping with barely contained fury.

Jason snarls, wild with rage and embarrassment. He swings his free hand, a chaotic punch directed at Huxley.That’s definitely a wrong move.With an almost effortless twist of his body, Huxley disarms Jason, his other arm moving like lightning to bring Jason's arm behind his back, forcing him to his knees.

The bar erupts in whispers and gasps, patrons mesmerized by the escalating confrontation. Leaning down, Huxley brings his face close to Jason's, the words that follow make the air crackle with tension.

"If you lay a hand on her again, I’ll make sure you regret it."

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