Page 58 of The Sound of Him

It’s an impressive glare. Between the hateful fury in his eyes and his crossed arms hiding any trembling in his hands, he’s nearly intimidating. Even the cuts and bruises on his face just add to the aesthetic. If he was approaching someone else, they’d likely buy it, but I see right past the mask. Interestingly enough, it’s too similar to the one Keaton likes to wear for me not to.

Maybe that’s why Keaton found himself attached to this one.

“Hey. Bryce, right? Do you need-”

“What were you doing with him?” he practically growls, cutting me off. If he was a cat, his hackles would be raised. Hell,myhackles might be raised at that tone. “Don’t deny it, either! Isawhim coming out of here. What did youdo?”

I put my hands up, already surrendering. “Nothing. We talked. I mean, I talked. He listened. That’s it. Nothing else.”

“Is he leaving here?”

“Not that I know of, no. If he is, that’s not what he was here for.”

His eyes narrow. “Then what did the two of you talk about?”

“That’s private,” I say carefully, fully aware this man has a stolen knife somewhere and definitely isn’t afraid to use it. “But I didn’t hurt him or anything, okay? He came in here all on his own. He stayed and left the same way.”

“No, he didn’t!” He steps toward me. I force myself to keep my feet planted. “Matt would never just - he doesn’t come by for fucking visits. What did you do to him? What did you say?”

“You’ll have to ask him that. It’s not my-”

He launches himself at me, managing a good hit to my jaw before I’ve got him held back with an arm pressed out against his chest. He can’t raise his fist this way, not his dominant one at least, but he can still swing it at my torso. I take each hit, trying to absorb some of his pain.

“He can’t answer!” he growls as he hammers at my side. “You bastard! You know he can’t tell me! You think just because - because he can’t talk, you’ll get away with this? You’ll get away with fucking with him? Huh? Becaue you fucking won’t!”

“Bryce-”

He steps away from me, my arm falling away as he moves back into the hall. The space between us is filled with his hurricane of emotions, just waiting to make landfall.

I try to stop it. He needs to calm the fuck down before the others hear. The last thing we need is a panic spreading through the house. Panic is the last thing any of them need to be dealing with, regardless.

I put my hands up again. “I didn’t do anything but talk, I swear. Okay? I didn’t lay a hand on him. And even if I did, I think we both know he’s plenty capable of communicating. Being voiceless doesn’t make him broken. It just makes him different.”

He falters. Every passing second has the anger draining out of him. There’s a whole lot of sadness beneath it. Anguish, almost.

“What do I have to do?” he eventually asks, his voice surprisingly steady.

“What do you mean?”

His nostrils flare, but the anger doesn’t seem to want to return to him. His hands are starting to tremble again.

He is so much like Keaton, it hurts.

“I know this game, alright? And I know that you’re in charge. I’ve been watching. Travis was all wrapped up in Carter when he was here, and now he’s out doing a mission, which the boss doesn’t do. Maison is a fucking hot mess. He’s not leading anything but his own way to rock bottom. Jake is busy, but the kind of busy that a little worker bee is. He has tasks, not control. The men outside aren’t allowed to come in, even if they’re invited by us. The doctors are both definitely doctors. That leavesyou.” He sneers with the last word. “You sneak around all the time. You barely leave this room - and now I see all of those computers? What are you doing, getting messages from operatives? Watching the video cameras I know you’ve got set up around the house? Deciding what to do with us now? Letting us just pretend we’re free?”

I try not to flinch at the half-truths that lie among the other accusations. His eyes narrow, so I might not have pulled it off.

“Yeah,” he says, more like he’s just confirming with himself, not even talking to me. “Yeah, you’re in charge. So what do I have to do? Tell me. Come on. Let’s get the next part of the game started.”

“This isn’t a game, Bryce.” I try for a smile, but I can tell it’s weak. “This is real. Jake and Travis-”

“Sure, yeah, undercover. Whatever. I haven’t decided if I believe that shit yet. Maison’s real - Carter said so, but he and Travis hate each other’s guts, so maybe you have something on him? Something on Carter? Maybe he’s playing the game and pretending because you said he could have Carter? Was that the deal? It doesn’t matter. I’m not talking about them right now. I’m talking about you.” He jabs a finger at me. “You’re something else. You’re in charge. What do I have to do to get them out of this? For you to let them go?”

“The others have left-”

“Or you killed them. You won’t show us any proof that they’re still alive. Wouldn’t tell us their new identities or where they were going. Told them they can’t contact us - not that you’ve given us phones to communicate even if we wanted to. Did you sell them, or kill them? Was them wanting to leave the way to lose the game?” He steps forward, tilting his chin. “How do Iwinit, then? What do you want?”

Fuck.