Page 45 of Vows of Silence

“You don’t get to do this to me!” I screamed, shoving hard against his chest.

The movement instantly sent pain shooting through my ribs, but adrenaline drowned most of it out.

Silas barely moved.

I shoved him again, harder this time, my hands fisting in the expensive material of his suit jacket.

“You don’t get to just take people!”

Nothing.

No retaliation. Not even a flicker of anger. He didn’t even seem like he was restraining himself. He simply absorbed my outburst.

The lack of reaction only made me more furious.

I hit him then—a proper slap across the side of the mask, the sound cracking loudly through the room. My palm stung instantly, and I had to fight the urge to shake it off.

Silas’s head turned slightly with the impact before slowly returning to face me. My breathing became ragged beneath the weight of that silver stare.

“Fight back!” I shouted desperately. “Yell at me! Threaten me! Do something!”

The mask cocked to the side once more.

Thinking.

Observing.

Learning me whilst I stood there falling apart in front of him.

Tears burned painfully behind my eyes again, humiliating me further.

“I hate you,” I whispered shakily. “Do you understand that? I will never stop hating you.”

For the briefest moment, his gloved hand tightened slightly at his side.

There it was. That tiny movement again. The sign of his displeasure. I saw it clearly this time and recognised it for what it was.

It was a weakness. A chink in his armour. A sign that he wasn’t the statue he portrayed.

A smug sense of satisfaction ran through me, and I filed away that piece of information for later use.

But just as I had been observing him, he had been watching me watch him. And somehow I had the horrible feeling he knew exactly what I'd noticed. He stepped forward suddenly.

It wasn’t quick, nor was it aggressive. But it was movement. Intentional movement and that alone had me instinctively shuffling backwards until the backs of my knees hit the bed.

My pulse stumbled violently.

The silver mask lowered slightly as he looked down at me, close enough now that I could see my own terrified reflection staring back at me from the polished metal.

I stopped breathing.

The room felt impossibly small with him standing this close.

Then, without warning, his gloved hand lifted slowly towards my face, and I flinched hard enough to nearly lose my footing. Something unreadable shifted in the dark hollows behind the mask before his hand lowered again.

He turned towards the table instead, picking up the painkillers from beside the tray before placing them down closer to me.

Another silent instruction.