Page 68 of When Death Whispers

“I think maybe you should care about the right thing,” I snap. “We were pulled into some kind of… other realm, in a dream, except it was real. I don’t even understand how any of this is possible and you’re jumping straight to murder like this is some medieval duel for my honor.”

“He fucking hurt you,” he growls, standing abruptly.

“He didn’t—” I stop myself. Too late.

Hudson’s jaw flexes. “He didn’t?”

“Not like that,” I say quickly. Too quickly.

He runs a hand through his hair, pacing now, anger pulsing off him in waves. “You’re covered in bruises, Parker. You’re shaking. You look like you’ve been—” His voice breaks, like the words are too much.

I rise to my feet too, still wrapped in the blanket. “Stop. You don’t get to decide what happened to me.”

His gaze snaps to mine. “Then tell me.”

“I…” I can’t seem to come up with the right words to explain. Nothing feels adequate. Hell, I’m not sure I understand enough to voice any of it out loud.

Hudson snarls, mistaking my silence for something else. “Goddammit, he can’t justtakewhat he wants like that,” he responds, voice like steel. “I’ll make him pay for it, Silver. I will. Fordefilingyou?—”

Something inside me snaps.

Oh, hell no.

I already knew the moment he met Rad might change things. That seeing the monsters up close—the truth of my life—might finally be too much. I even braced for him to run again, like he did in the beginning.

I could’ve forgiven that.

What I wasn’t prepared for was this.

Not him standing there, casting judgment the second things stopped going his way. Not the anger. Not the wounded pride. Not him looking at me like I’m something dirty just because I didn’t play the part he wanted me to.

“For defiling me?” The laugh that rips from my throat is ugly. Bitter. “Oh, fuck off, Hudson.”

He jerks back like I slapped him. “What?”

“You’re acting like I didn’t have a say in any of it.” I snap, each word sharper than the last. “Like I was just some helpless little doll getting dragged into the shadows and chased by the big bad wolf. Like I didn’t want it.”

His face goes still, unreadable—but his jaw clenches. “Did you?” he asks, barely above a whisper. “Want it?”

The shame is instant. Thick. Suffocating. I look away. My throat closes up.

“That’s not the point,” I say quietly, but it sounds like a lie even to me.

“Thehellit isn’t,” he insists. “You’re standing there covered in his—” He cuts himself off, chest heaving. “And you’re acting like this is normal.”

I laugh. “Oh, I’m sorry. Are you under the impression thatanyof this is fucking normal?”

Hudson doesn’t move. His face is stone, but I see it—the cracks. The hurt. The anger. The disbelief. And I feel guilt, and shame, and I hate that he once again is witness to my moments of vulnerability.

“Just answer me, Parker. Please.”

“Fine,” I snap, loud enough to make him flinch. Because anger is easier than showing him how confused I really am. “You want to know so bad? I wanted it. I let him touch me. Chase me. Fuck me. I begged him to.”

The silence that follows is louder than any scream.

Hudson stares at me like I just ripped out his heart with my bare hands.

And maybe I did. And maybe it’s for the best.

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