Page 43 of Glass

“No,” Silas says coldly. “I understand exactly why she said that.”

But my anger is rising, encompassing everyone in this fucking room. Including myself. “Are you happy now, Silas?”

He jerks. “What?”

“I told you,” I force out through the grip tightening around my throat. “I said that this would break her. And I was right.”

Because she’sbroken. Something inside of her has gone out. Like a candle’s been blown out, the flame stuttering before it extinguishes completely.

“We need to fix this,” I breathe, my eyes on his. “Silas. You need to fix this. Fix her.”

His head jerks back. “How exactly am I supposed to do that?”

I snap. They’re so fucking obtuse. “If you can’t work that out, then she can’t be here.”

Both of them freeze.

“She can’t go back there,” Rafe says quickly. “Don’t be stupid, Kit.”

Back to a prison cell. Back to where some fucker calledParrishcan get his hands on her.

“At this point,” I say quietly, “I’m not convinced that being here is better for her. I wonder if it’s worse, if all we’re going to do is fuck with her head.”

I look at Silas. “Youknowit doesn’t have to be like this. Let her serve out her damn sentence without taking every opportunity to twist the knife a little more. You’re torturing her for your own purposes.”

And I won’t stand for it anymore. Should never have let them treat her like that to begin with.

Then I turn to Rafe. To my twin. “And you… you’re being an asshole, Rafe. Stop throwing crap all over the floor every damn night.”

Silas crosses his arms as Rafe’s jaw tightens. But my twin nods.

I glare at Silas. “Fix her.”

It has to be him. Because despite Rafe’s absolute stupidity, it’s my eldest brother who’s responsible. Who’s the reason she’s not eating properly, the reason she’s sleeping on a hard floor every night.

And if he keeps up this relentless punishment, we might not get Stasi back at all.

That’s not something I can live with. And despite their fucking idiocy… I don’t think they could live with it either.

18 – Silas

Fix this.

Fixher.

As I descend the steps to the kitchen, my feet are unusually hesitant.

Uncertain.

I’m sure she’s fine.

I brace myself for what I might find, but only Ellen turns my way, her mouth opening in surprise.

Pausing, I swivel my head like an idiot. Looking for her. But the rest of the room is empty.

“Where is she?” I demand.

Our housekeeper’s mouth firms in a way I’ve rarely seen. “I’m not going to let you berate her, Silas. She’s not… she’s not well tonight.”