Page 20 of The Silent War
There it was. Finally. The accusation I’d been starving for.
But fuck, it hurt.
Her words cut cleaner than any blade I’d taken in Villain alleys. She thought we hadforgotten.Not dead. Not buried. Just… gone from her life because we chose to leave her there.
And maybe she was right. Maybe silence was worse than a coffin.
I deserved it. We both did.
Still, it carved.
Three years of systems, contracts, blood spilled to keep her untouchable, and all she remembered was the absence. Not the empire we built around her name. Not the nights we kept heirs from breathing in her direction. Not the war we fought in the dark so she wouldn’t bleed in the light.
She remembered the silence.
And she was right to.
I felt the spiral crack in my chest, ice spreading under my ribs. I wanted to argue. To tell her she had no idea what we’d done, what it cost. To break the world in half just to prove it.
But I didn’t. I couldn’t.
Because I saw the pain in her eyes. The way she flicked her gaze away from me, fast, like she couldn’t hold the weight of it and still breathe.
So I stepped closer.
Not to intimidate. Just to feel her air in my lungs. Close enough that she couldn’t pretend I was a ghost anymore.
Her head turned slightly, attention sliding down the street like she was searching for an out.
I moved with her. Controlled. Close enough that the city noise faded between us.
“Forgotten? Angel, I don’t forget. Not you. Not ever.”
Forgotten.
The word burrowed under my skin like a nail dragged slow.
She thought I had put her down. Left her behind. As if my lungs had managed one breath in the last three years without her name in it. As if Bastion and I hadn’t carved Villain into a coffin big enough to bury every man who tried to take her place.
She didn’t know. Couldn’t. Because we’d built it all in silence. A fortress disguised as distance. And what did silence look like to her? Abandonment.
Fuck.
It was the one thing I couldn’t forgive myself for, even while I’d sworn it was the only way to keep her alive.
I should’ve written. Called. Bled at her feet until she understood. Instead I’d left her with nothing but quiet. And quiet had taught her the worst thing possible… that we’d forgotten.
I reached out before I thought better of it. Just to feel her wrist, her warmth, to remind myself she was real and mine and still standing in front of me.
“Don’t, Luca.”
She said it fast, stepping back just enough that my hand didn’t touch her.
Fuck that hurt. She didn’t want me to touch her.
She shook her head once, trying for lightness. “It’s fine. It’s in the past.”
“It’s not fine.” My voice came out low, tight. “And it sure as fuck isn’t past.”
