Page 36 of Ugly Truths
Alice nods, but I barely register it. I throw the car into gear and pull away from the curb, my mind already miles away.
The entire drive is a haze. Alice makes small talk, her voice light and melodic, but every ounce of my attention is consumed by the fire raging in my chest. I keep replaying the texts in my head, each wordstoking the flames.
Of course, Natalie would fall for it, but for Davey to give in and allow her tomoveElena into their home?
My grip tightens on the wheel, knuckles white as I navigate city streets. The pulse in my ears drowns Alice out. I offer the occasional robotic hum of acknowledgment.
Elena was supposed to be out of sight and out of mind. Tucked away in that basement, where she couldn’t keep poisoning everything. She’s only been back here a week, and she’s already undoing every carefully laid plan I’ve made.
I glance at Alice briefly at a red light. She’s looking out the window, oblivious to the storm brewing next to her.
She deserves better than this—better than me right now.
Eventually, the car rolls to a stop in front of the townhome, and I put it in park, glancing over at Alice. She’s been nothing but patient. I force myself to match her unbothered expression, leaning over to give her a soft kiss.
“I’ll just be a few minutes,” I murmur against her mouth. She nods before I step out of the car.
The iron gate groans faintly as I push it open and stride up the steps. I don’t hesitate to pound on the door. It swings open almost too quickly, and Davey’s standing there.
“Silas,” he says cautiously. I push past him without waiting for an invitation.
“You and I will talk later,” I bite out over my shoulder before turning toward their living room, where Natalie and Elena sit side by side on one of the light blue velvet couches. Natalie’s expression is a mix of surprise and irritation, but it’s Elena who holds my attention.
Her head jerks up the second I walk in, posture tightening like a coil. The mug in her hand stills. Those whiskey eyes that once used to meet mine with challenge now flit downward after barely holding my gaze for a heartbeat. It throws me for a second before the anger flares up again, drowning whatever the emotionwas out.
Of course, she’s afraid. She knows exactly what she’s doing.
“What the hell is this?” I snap, the words slicing through the silence as I turn to Natalie. “You brought her here? Are you out of your mind?”
“Silas—” Natalie starts, standing halfway from the couch, but I cut her off.
“No,” I growl, my gaze snapping back to the woman who keeps ruining everything.
Elena’s eyes dart to Natalie's profile for a fraction of a second before returning to her lap, and that small, silent plea only makes my blood boil hotter.
“You,” I seethe as I step toward her. She flinches. It tightens something in my chest, but the next words still come out. “How does it feel to still be manipulating everyone around you? Is it satisfying to be sitting here when you should still be tied to a goddamn chair?”
Her chest rises and falls with each quick breath. She doesn’t even lift her head.
“Scar–Elena,” I bark, stumbling over her name as I step closer. She stiffens and her lips part like she might finally say something, but nothing comes out.
The woman who used to throw my words back in my face with twice the force is nowhere to be found. Whoever this person is just sits there, small and still, bracing herself for a storm she can’t stop.
“What, you’ve got nothing to say? No excuses? No smart-ass remarks?” I demand, my words growing even sharper.
Her silence is a wall, and I can’t decide if she’s hiding behind it or if she’s just given up.
“Silas, stop.” Natalie's voice cuts through my thoughts. She’s standing fully now, moving between us to shield Elena.
I turn on her, the rage desperate for a new target. “She’s lying to you, just like before. You’re falling for it, Natalie—you know better!”
“No,” Natalie snaps back. “She didn’t ask for this. She told me it was a bad idea and you’d be livid. She hasn’t stopped saying it since we left.”
I look past her. Elena hasn't moved an inch.
“She didn’t want to come here,” Natalie continues, regaining my attention. “This was my decision. Mine. Not hers.”
“She’s playing you, Natalie.” My voice is lower, but no less hard.
