Page 32 of Shattered Silence

Oh my god, they’re here!

They spoke in their language, and she couldn’t understand the words, but she understood the shock in their voices perfectly well as they entered the chamber, as they undoubtedly took in the scene before them.

She recognized their voices; Captain Pradon and the others.

The shock in their voices turned to anger. Boots stomped on the floor as they spread out, searching for her.

Any minute now, they were going to uncover her hiding place, and then what? There were many of them, and only one of her. What the hell was she supposed to do now?

As Layla tensed, preparing to uncoil like a spring at any moment, Pradon’s voice cut through the silence. This time, he sounded imperious, outraged, indignant, barking a question in that strange, lyrical tongue they all spoke.

Weird, how such a beautiful sounding language could be spoken by such brutal people.

Suddenly, Pradon’s tirade was cut short.

Layla heard shuffling and rustling and the hiss of metal against scabbard as blades were drawn. More shouting, this time from Pradon’s men.

Shik. Thud. Thud.

Gasps. Pleas.

Fear. The Kordolians who had treated her so brutally were now fucking terrified.

And then, silence.

Everything stopped. Voices, footsteps, and seemingly, her heartbeat.

What the hell just happened?

Layla was dying to peek outside, but she didn’t dare. Instead, she waited, trying not to breathe too loudly, trying to listen.

A strange tingle ran down the back of her neck and over her scalp, a feeling she imagined she might get if a spirit were to pass through her.

Layla believed in ghosts. There were things in the Universe that science just couldn’t explain.

Like how a group of armed Kordolians could enter the room, find their dead comrade, then… nothing.

Layla rose to her feet, surprised to find that she wasn’t trembling anymore. She couldn’t crouch here in the darkness any longer. She had to sneak a look outside.

“Layla.”

She gasped in pure shock as the voice came out of nowhere, echoing inside the tiny chamber. Was it to her right, or left, or in front of her? She couldn’t tell. Out of pure instinct, she thrust forward with her small knife, stabbing blindly into the darkness.

“It’s me.” Something warm and firm slid around her wrist and gave it a gentle squeeze. Her grip became weak as pressure was applied to a specific point—a nerve?—and the knife was easily taken from her hand.

“Me?” Her voice came out as a high-pitched almost-shriek as she flailed around, fear overriding her capacity to think straight. “Who are you?”

“Enki,” he answered simply, taking hold of her other wrist.

Suddenly, Layla couldn’t move her arms. His grip was firm yet gentle; she didn’t know how he was doing it without hurting her, but somehow, she couldn’t pull away.

And all she could see was pitch black.

Layla started to hyperventilate.

“Be calm. Don’t fight. I am here now.” His emotionless tone was strangely comforting. Something clicked in Layla’s brain, and she remembered the odd exchange they’d had when she was stuck in the escape-pod.

She remembered the sound of his voice and confirmed in her mind that it really was him.

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