But it was... quieter now, growing easier to push aside when absolutely necessary.
My fingers tightened lightly in the blanket as I considered how to respond. Then I lifted my shoulders in a small, uncertain shrug.
He nodded, like that told him everything he needed.
“Yeah,” he mumbled. “That tracks.”
His gaze flicked to Silas, still asleep beside me, then returned to my face. “My brother and I,” he continued, “we use touch to cause pain.”
I swallowed.
“Our hands have done what Marco did to you, to other people,” he said, voice calm but stripped of anything casual. “We’re trained to apply pressure with pain and break people until answers spill from lips that don’t want to open.”
The words sat heavy in the room.
“We were going to hurt you,” he said plainly.
Silas paused, watching me closely, gauging my reaction.
“But then something shifted,” he went on. “I’m not sure exactly when. Earlier for me than my brother. Maybe it was seeing the scars on your back. Maybe it was watching you flinch every time we got too close. But somewhere along theway, I realized I didn’t want my touch to break you.”
His jaw flexed.
“I want it to do the opposite.”
He exhaled slowly. “I’m sorry hurting you ever crossed my mind.”
Silence stretched between us.
“I won’t lie and say we know how to heal someone,” he said after a moment. “We don’t. But we want to learn. And we won’t harm you. Not like he did. Never.”
His eyes held mine, steady and honest. “Do you understand? My brother and I are brutal men, and we do brutal things to people. That’s the truth of it.”
He didn’t look away when he said it.
“But now,” he continued, “we do them for you. For justice and for revenge.”
His gaze drifted, unfocused for a moment, as if he were looking back through years instead of across the room. “Marco should have paid a long time ago. For our mother, for that omega girl, for you, and for all the others whose names we’ll never know.”
He drew in a deep breath and let it out. “And maybe once he’s gone, once we’ve wiped him from this world for good, something will finally loosen for you.”
His eyes came back to mine.
“Maybe then you won’t flinch when someone gets close,” he said. “Maybe you won’t feel like you have to run every time someone reaches for you.”
He paused, letting the words settle where they landed.
“Maybe then,” he finished, “you’ll feel safe. Maybe thenyou’ll be able to touchuswithout fear."
He leaned forward, eyes darkening.
“Would you like that, Lena? To feel our hands on you?” he asked quietly. “To feel pleasure from touch instead of fear?”
My breath hitched, fingers curling tighter into the blanket, and then, low in my body, the pulse returned.
“Nothing too fast,” he added, sensing my reservations. “Not all at once.” Knox's voice stayed calm. “Slow, careful, soft, touch that doesn’t take or demand anything from you. Touch that gives, that comforts and that… could offer more, if you want it to.”
My heartbeat picked up, loud in my ears. What did Knox mean bymore?
