Page 122 of Vows of Silence

Silas stood at the altar exactly as I had known he would, dressed in an immaculate black suit with his silver mask gleaming beneath the lights. He wasn’t moving. He simply stood there watching me with the same unnerving stillness that had haunted every encounter I’d ever had with him.

It was ridiculous that somebody could be so motionless and yet somehow dominate an entire space, but Silas had always possessed that ability. He drew attention without demanding it. He inspired fear without raising his voice. Even now he looked less like a groom waiting for his bride and more like a predator patiently waiting for prey to stop running.

Unfortunately for him, I had every intention of continuing.

The second his masked face turned fully towards mine, instinct took over.

I spun around and ran.

I didn’t have a plan. I didn’t know where I was going. I only knew that every survival instinct in my body was screaming at me to get as far away from Silas Falcone as physically possible.

I barely made it three steps.

A hand closed around my upper arm and yanked me backward so hard that pain shot through my shoulder.

I gasped, stumbling as the guard caught me and held me firmly in place.

“Let me go!” I shouted, struggling against him. “Please, just let me go!”

I looked desperately towards Silas, hating him with every fibre of my being, and was met with complete calm. There was no anger in his posture. No frustration. No sign that my attempted escape had inconvenienced him in the slightest.

Instead, he reached into his pocket.

Confusion flickered through me as he withdrew a small remote control.

Then he pressed a button.

A large screen behind the altar flickered to life.

For a second, I didn’t understand what I was looking at. The image was dark and grainy. I could hear muffled panting, but nothing more.

And then the camera adjusted, and my heart stopped beating.

This was the reason my dad wasn’t coming. This was the ace card Silas had up his sleeve. The answer to everything.

“Marco,” I whispered.

His head hung forward, blood stained the front of his shirt, and one side of his face was swollen beyond recognition, bruises darkening his skin beneath cuts and dried streaks of blood. His lip had split and one eye was almost completely closed. Fresh injuries blended into older ones until I couldn’t tell where one ended and the next began.

My dad had chosen my brother over me. He wanted to guarantee Marco’s safety whilst sacrificing my own.

A figure dressed entirely in black stepped into the frame. A hood concealed every identifiable feature, leaving only darkness where a face should have been. The man lifted a hooked blade and rested it carefully against Marco’s throat, the sharpened edge pressing lightly against his skin.

Not enough to cut, but enough to promise that it could. Enough to show me exactly what would happen if I made the wrong decision.

My legs felt weak. The fight drained out of me so suddenly that it was almost physical.

The guard no longer needed to hold me upright.

I wasn’t going anywhere. I wouldn’t do this to Marco. I wouldn’t—couldn’t—sentence him to death.

My family might have abandoned me, but I wouldn’t do the same. If sacrificing myself meant my brother could live, then I knew that was the only choice I had.

I marched down the aisle, a fury unlike anything I had ever known simmering beneath the surface.

My fucking brother!

The person I loved most in the world.