Page 62 of Whispers of the Dead

“You know what we need? To celebrate with a song. I’ll start.” Benji clears his throat and starts singing a tune.

“You’re ridiculous,” I laugh.

Benji stops singing in favor of joining in on the conversation with Cole and Damon. The three of them keep talking about all the what-ifs and the possibilities of what it could mean if Avery does have a soft spot for me. Damon reminds them to think about the drawbacks, and whether it could be a trap to let my guard down.

I tune them out until Benji directs his next question to me. “So, Zoey, what are you going to do now that your cell has been upgraded to a five-star suite?”

A slow grin crosses my face when I look around at the soft blankets and plush pillows that look almost too good to be true. It’s more comfort than I’ve had since the dead rose.

After depositing the vial into the small cooler provided in the box with food, I answer him by running the few short feet and jumping onto the freshly made bed with a squeal. My body relaxes against something other than cold stone.

I’ll figure out Avery later. For now, I’m going to enjoy the hell out of this bed.

The plush beddingengulfs me and surrounds me with the softest warmth. It’s a stark contrast to the cold, oppressive silence. The softness beneath me should bring comfort, should be a reprieve from stone and suffering, but all I can do is lie here, staring at the cracked ceiling while my thoughts spin in endless loops.

A full day has passed since the dregs delivered the supplies from Avery, and Damon still hasn’t said a word. After the guys finished discussing their thoughts on the matter, Damon clammed up and went silent.

The silence weighs heavier than the bars in this damn prison.

I turn my head and peer in Damon’s direction, where I can make out the faint outline of his form. He’s slumped against the back wall with one broad shoulder pressed against the bars between us. His head tilts back, his presence barely visible in the shadows that swallow him whole. I imagine his eyes are probably closed to block out the dark world we’re trapped in. I don’t like this silence between us.

“Damon.”

No response.

I sit up and swing my legs over the side of the mattress. “Damon, come on. You’ve been quiet all day. What’s going on in that head of yours?”

He shifts, but I don’t think he turns his head. “Nothing you need to worry about.”

I frown. My fingers tighten in the blanket draped over my lap. “That’s not true, and you know it. Talk to me.”

There’s a long pause before he finally speaks. His voice comes out low and gravel-rough, like he’s been swallowing nails instead of words. “You deserve so much more than this, Zoey. More than me. More than any of us.”

“Well, I know that’s true, but I still don’t like the sound of that,” Benji comments.

The ache in his voice sends a sharp pang through my chest, and I recognize the feeling I had before I was taken. That same feeling of wondering if I would ever be worthy enough, or if I was destined to be alone.

I let my feet fall to the floor. “Why would you say that?”

The sound of Damon’s harsh exhale sounds like a blade scraping against metal. “Because I’m the reason we’re here.” His shoulder tenses against the bars. “I made the call that got us captured, and I destroyed the lives of the people I care about most. Now, if I let myself feel anything for you, I’ll destroy you, too.”

His words are soaked in guilt, in a burden he’s carried alone for too long, and it hurts me on a visceral level. A knot tightens in my throat and I shake my head. “Damon, that’s not true. You didn’t?—”

Benji’s voice cuts through the dark. “That’s bullshit, and you know it, Damon. If anyone’s to blame, it’s me. You were only trying to keep us safe.”

Damon doesn’t answer. His silence screams louder than any argument could.

I push off the bed and move closer to the bars between us. My fingers wrap around the cold steel, and I try again, my voice softer now. “Damon.”

He doesn’t move.

“Move closer,” I beg.

His shoulders tighten. “Zoey…” My name comes out like a warning.

“Please.” My fingers tighten around the bars.

He blows out a breath of defeat and then stands. His broad frame fills the narrow space between us. He’s so close now, his hands curl around the bars above mine and tilts his head forward. Heat radiates off his skin into the chilled air.

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