Page 46 of Vows of Silence

Eat.

Take the painkillers.

Recover.

“What do you actually want from me?” I whispered.

Silence answered me again.

Silas turned and walked towards the door without another glance back.

And for some reason, that made me even angrier than if he had threatened me at gunpoint.

Chapter 15

The Flame

The next time the door opened, I was ready for him.

At least, I thought I was.

I had no idea how much time had passed since he had left me with another tray of food and those neatly folded clothes I still refused to touch. It felt like a day, maybe less, maybe more. Time had become impossible down here. I slept when my body forced me to, woke when the ache in my ribs became too uncomfortable, and stared at the same four walls until I thought I might start screaming again just to hear something other than my own breathing.

I knew Silas would be angry with me for not following his silent command and changing into the clothes. But I couldn’t do it knowing he was watching me. It was bad enough using the bathroom connected to this room. But I was able to cover myself decently enough with my engagement dress. There was no way I could get changed. Not knowing he was watching. That he would see everything.

I was already exposed and vulnerable down here. I didn’t want to make things any worse. My dignity was something I was willing to risk his wrath for.

But I’d also made a decision. I wasn’t going to stay here and simply accept things silently. I wasn’t going to go down without a fight.

Which is why I was standing beside the door with one of the bowls from the tray gripped tightly in my hand, my heart hammering so hard I could feel it in my throat.

I knew he would see me on the cameras, and so I spent a silly amount of time pretending to clean the bowl with a scrap of fabric I had found. If I wasn’t “cleaning” it, I was pretending to organise the dishes—anything, really. Anything I could think of to keep me close to the heaviest object I could realistically pick up.

My palms were damp. My ribs throbbed. My ankle protested every time I shifted my weight, but none of that mattered.

I was waiting. And it wasn’t long until the moment came.

The lock clicked, and my fingers tightened around the bowl.

The heavy metal door opened slowly, and the second his black-gloved hand appeared around the edge, I moved.

I swung with everything I had, not caring where I hit, so long as I hit something.

The bowl smashed against his shoulder rather than his head, the impact jarring painfully up my arm as ceramic shattered across the floor. I didn’t give myself time to think. I lunged for the gap between him and the door, trying to shove past him, trying to run, trying to do anything other than stay in this room waiting for him to decide what came next.

I made it half a step.

Maybe not even that.

His arm locked around my waist before I could get any further, hard and unyielding, lifting me off balance as though Iweighed nothing. I vaguely noticed that his hands held me in place, but they were carefully positioned, avoiding the worst of the bruises on my ribs. For some reason, that made me angrier. What right did he have to touch me so delicately when he was responsible for those bruises?

I kicked out wildly, my heel connecting with his shin, my elbow driving back into his ribs. Pain tore through my own body from the movement, but I didn’t stop. I couldn’t.

“Let go of me!” I screamed, thrashing against him. “Get your fucking hands off me!”

He didn’t make a sound. He simply gathered me up into his arms tighter, pinning my own arms to my sides. He turned me with terrifying ease, forcing me back into the room. The second he released my arms I clawed at him, my nails scraping uselessly over his jacket and gloves. I tried to twist away from him, tried to sink my teeth into any part of him I could reach, but he predicted my every move, batting my attacks away like a cat with a ball. His head cocked to the side, as though my pathetic attempt to defeat him was somehow entertaining. I roared my frustration.

Why didn’t he fight me? Why did he simply contain me? Why was he always in fucking control, even when taken by surprise?