Page 40 of Silenced

I smile.

There.

With Marku dead, Troy’s father will either have to spawn another child from some poor female—a feat he hasn’t managed since Troy’s birth—or name someone else as his heir.

The Albanians are about to have a power struggle—that’s why Troy says she’ll owe me a token.

And does she but know it, Cassiopeia triggered it.

Somehow, that makes my cock pound harder than ever.

There’s no way I’ll be able to sleep like this.

10

CASSIE

Often - The Weeknd

* * *

The bedroom is so pitchblack that I don’t know why I wake up. There are no sounds in here either, and I don’t need to use the bathroom even though…

A few memories drift into my mind.

Hewoke me, lifting me by the shoulders until I was sitting, pouring water into my mouth, and offering me pills from bottles of acetaminophen and ibuprofen every now and then.

The sting of rubbing alcohol on my ankles and hands disturbed me from my slumber—he must have changed the bandages.

I remember him guiding me to the bathroom on the various occasions he tended to me.

Discomfited by the memories of his care while I was at my most vulnerable, I hike myself higher in the bed, aware that the pounding in my temples is so much better than the last time I was conscious.

Still there, but not entirely.

Mostly, it’s my hands that hurt. The skin is raw and sore. My fingers ache, the splinted one throbs dully, and my thumb still feels weak.

For a few minutes, I stare into the darkness, but the longer I stare, the more my heart begins to slam against my ribcage and the harder my panic stirs to life, forming wings that has me scrabbling out of bed, seeking the light switch.

As my fingers discover the cool plastic, I flick the switch and jolt when a different light flows around the ceiling, flooding a recess I didn’t spot before.

Dragging the comforter off the bed, I cuddle into it as I shuffle over to what I decideisa vanity and plunk my butt on the seat and glance at the bedroom from this angle.

Last night, I’d mostly been trying to find an escape route. Now, I just take in the barren space.

It’s bizarre.

Oddly ornate yet modern too.

As I stare at the bed, I break the cloistering silence by muttering to myself, “It’s like the queen’schambrein Versailles.”

A canopy of curtains falls dramatically from the high ceiling which is then secured to the wall with fancy fastenings above small nightstands on either side of the bed. The canopy is old-fashioned in premise, but the lines are modern and the drapes are a rich cyan velvet—not exactly antique.

It gives a grandeur to the space that speaks of wealth.

Extreme wealth.

Especially as the bed itself is the size of a California king and a half, and there are over a dozen pillows that act as an unofficial headboard.

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