Page 42 of Shattered Silence

“Just try to make some noise when you walk.” Layla’s soft voice cut through Enki’s mental chaos, wrapping around him and pulling him into a state of calm. “I’ve got the hang of it now. All I have to do is trail my hand along the wall.”

“Ah. I will do that.”

“Being noisy ain’t your thing, is it?”

“My job requires a certain amount of stealth.”

Layla was silent for a moment. Enki couldn’t help it—he glanced over his shoulder and caught sight of her curious, penetrating gaze. Her lips were slightly parted, revealing her perfectly imperfect teeth. “And what job would that be?” she asked, going perfectly still.

Enki thought about it for a moment. Colonizer. Enforcer. Killer. Protector. Host. The last one filled him with anger and disgust.

“Mercenary,” he said at last, and for some reason, his answer made Layla breathe a soft sigh of relief. “Except this particular job, I’m doing for free. Now let’s go. From now on, if there’s a problem, you tell me.”

“Yes, Sir.” Her eyebrows rose in surprise, and it warmed his dark heart to hear the note of amusement in her voice.

It was a tiny flicker of life in a sea of death and destruction, and he found himself impossibly drawn to it—drawn to her.

How is this possible?

Because he’d been stuck inside his head with the cursed Tharian for far too long. Because he’d forgotten there was more to existence than missions and violence and killing.

Because he’d been slowly slipping into the realm of madness, and he’d forgotten what beauty looked like.

And now he was at risk of falling into another kind of insanity, the kind he never thought he would catch.

Not now. Enki steeled himself, shutting down his feverish thoughts before they could take root. Forward. Keep moving. Get her off this cursed ship.

He didn’t mention anything to Layla about the impenetrable silence, which extended down the corridor as far as he could hear. Silence was usually Enki’s best friend, but now the absence of activity on the middle decks made him wary.

His suspicions were confirmed when he heard the familiar sound of metal-on-metal.

Footsteps.

Coming from in front and behind. He extended his senses and counted at least a dozen men bearing down upon them from each side.

A trap.

Metal-on-metal footsteps meant only one thing. These soldiers were wearing full exo-armor. Daegan had sent his elites, an entire Division of them.

That meant they’d figured out what Enki was, because only a First Division warrior could inspire such extreme measures. Something he’d done in the medical bay must have triggered the surveillance systems.

He should be flattered, but Enki was frantic. Layla was terribly exposed.

“Stop,” he whispered, holding out his hand to steady her as she walked straight into him. Her bare hands pressed up against his chest as she tried to gather her bearings.

Layla froze. “What’s—”

“Shh.” He put a finger to her lips. A torrent of possibilities ran through his mind as he considered his options and tried to settle on the most logical course of action—the way he’d been trained.

But the most logical course wasn’t possible, because of Layla. Enki’s usual strategy—kill everything in sight—wasn’t going to work this time.

“We’re going down,” he said instead, and Layla’s features twisted into the perfect picture of confusion as he drew his long sword in the darkness.

Her hands were still pressed against his chest. It appeared she found some sort of security in his presence, and that made him feel like… like he wanted to live up to her expectations of him, even if they were just idealistic human notions.

Kaiin’s Hells. What was this unholy hold she’d gotten over him? It occurred to Enki that the one thing he’d sworn he would never succumb to—the divine madness that had struck the General first, then Kalan, Kail, Rykal, and now his friend Torin—might actually be happening to him. As much as he hated to admit it, maybe the Tharian was right.

But now was not the time to be dwelling on such things.

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