Page 69 of White Noise

He just takes another step.

“You run from me.” I hold my ground. “You fight me.” Another. “You fucking cut me.” His fingers brush over the scar across his eye. “And somehow you still haven’t figured out the part that should scare you.”

I swallow.

Silas closes the space between us until I have to tilt my head back to keep looking at him, and the low hum of his frequency crawls over my skin before he even touches me.

His smile doesn’t just sharpen; it becomes a jagged, predatory thing, a blade slicing through the remaining fragments of my composure.

“The part you should be scared of, little echo,” he purrs, the sound vibrating not just in the air, but deep inside my marrow, rattling my teeth, “is that despite all that bullshit you spit, you don’t want me gone. You’re terrified of me, yes, but you’re more terrified of the silence that would follow if I left.”

The words hit me with the force of a physical blow, stripping away the thin veil of my defiance. He sees the flicker of truth in my eyes, the way my breath hitches, and he feeds on it like a parasite.

He steps in closer, erasing the distance until I can feel the oppressive, freezing heat of his presence. He crowds me, his shadow swallowing me whole, his voice dropping to a low, lethal rumble that feels like a cold finger tracing the line of my spine.

Behind him, the CRT monitor doesn't just crackle, it screams, the glass spider-webbing as a surge of violent, distorted static erupts from the screen, casting strobing, sickly light across his features.

“I’m done waiting for you to stop lying to yourself, Saga. I’m done playing the game where you pretend you’re still the one in control of your own fucking skin.”

The static in the room thickens, becoming a physical weight, a suffocating shroud of grey noise that drowns out everything but the sound of my own panicked breathing.

The vibration under my skin deepens, turning into a cruel, electric itch that makes my muscles twitch involuntarily, as if he’s already reaching inside me, gripping my nerves like wires, pulling the strings of my nervous system.

Silas watches me. He doesn't blink.

He just watches with those cold, void-like eyes as I take one trembling step back.

Then another.

My heels hit the wall, and the sudden impact jars my spine. I'm trapped, pinned between the cold plaster and the monster who owns every electronic pulse in the room.

His mouth curves into a smirk that is entirely devoid of mercy. He doesn't move toward me; he doesn't have to.

He knows the walls are just extensions of his will.

“Go on then, run,” he taunts, his voice dripping with a sadistic, mocking amusement. “Run through the halls. Bolt the doors. Hide under the sheets. It won't matter. Every wire in this wall, every signal in the air, every beat of your pathetic, terrified heart belongs to me. I am the air you breathe and the nightmare you can't wake up from.”

He leans in, his breath a cold ghost against my ear, his voice a lethal whisper that makes my pussy clench in a traitorous surge of arousal.

“Run, little echo. I want to see how loud you scream when you realize there is nowhere in this fucking world where I am not already waiting for you.”

My pulse jumps.

He looks almost amused now, but there’s nothing playful in it. It’s the look of something that already knows how this ends.

“And run fast,” he says quietly. “Because this time, when I catch you, I’m done letting you fucking hide behind fear and that pretty mouth.”

The static surges harder but Silas’s eyes stay locked on mine.

“Tonight, I make sure every fucking nerve in your body knows exactly who it belongs to.”

My breath catches and his smile widens.

“Run.”

I do.

I don't think; I just bolt.