Page 101 of Scarred in Silence

“Not outmatched.”

We move like wraiths. I slit the first man’s throat before he can raise his weapon. Blood spraying onto the drywall. Dante takes out two with controlled shots to the chest. The last starts running. I chase.

I run down a spiral staircase into a locked room. A lab—vials, ledgers, cash, and a steel chair bolted to the floor.

He turns, pistol raised. “Lucien.”

“Miles.”

He looks older than he did a month ago. Weak. Eyes wild.

“I was trying to protect her.”

Wrong move.

I cross the room and slam him against the wall before he can fire. I disarm him. Slamming his face again into the cracked concrete. He spits out a tooth.

“She came to me,” he wheezed.

“She was eighteen.”

“She wanted it.”

I see red.

I punch. Again. Again. Again. The wall is red. My fists are wet. His nose is folded inward. Teeth are scattered like dice across the tile.

“You put your hands on her,” I say, keeping my voice low.

“You drugged her. Lied to her. Bragged about fucking her in front of your friends like she was a joke.”

He tries to laugh through broken lips. “She’ll never be clean. You’re wasting your time.”

I grab his throat, lifting him from the ground. “You think this is about clean?”

He struggles. Kicking his pathetic legs. I drop him, and he gasps for air.

“This is about her not flinching when she hears your name. This is about her feeling safe to sleep at night without seeing your face. This is about her knowing you’re dead.”

“You’re not going to kill me,” he coughed.

Fuck. Astra does want to be the one to do it.

I look back.

Dante stands in the doorway, gun loose in his hand. Watching.

“Alive,” I repeat, tasting the word like a bitter pill. “That’s negotiable.”

Dante walks forward. “He needs to see her. She deserves to decide how this ends.”

I grab Miles by the shirt and yank him up. “You’re coming with us.”

* **

We bound him, gagged him, and stuffed him in the trunk.

The ride back is silent.