Page 49 of Scarred in Silence (The Twisted Trilogy #2)

Astra

The ring’s cold on my finger. His warmth is everywhere else.

Lucien’s breath is uneven against my neck as we sit pressed against each other on the rocky edge. The sun is dipping low, bleeding into the sky like it knows what we just promised. The mountain air is crisp, but his hands are fire—sprawled across my waist, branding me through my thin shirt.

I tilt my head and catch his gaze.

It’s never just a look with him.

It’s a possession. A plea. A question.

And tonight, an answer.

I kiss him first—slow and certain. I want to remember this exact moment, the way his lips tremble before they crash into mine, how his hand fists my hair like he’s trying to anchor himself. The way he groans into my mouth like he’s starved and I’m the only thing left on earth.

The wind howls through the trees, but he’s louder.

His shirt is the first to go. Then mine. We collapse into each other on the blanket he packed, our bodies tangled between pine needles and promises. I can feel the tension in his sh oulders, the restraint in every careful touch.

“I won’t break,” I whisper into his throat.

He swears under his breath. “You’re the only thing I’ve never been able to break.”

His hands are everywhere—rough from violence, trembling from something deeper. He pushes into me, lustful and reckless. I arch beneath him, not because I want to—because I need to.

Because this is the first time I’m not surviving him.

I’m choosing him.

His name tumbles from my lips like ritual and threat all in one. He groans against my collarbone, and I feel him shudder as he pushes deeper into the moment—into me.

Every movement is a vow. Every gasp, a confession.

The mountain doesn’t care that we’re ruining each other in front of it. The world doesn’t either. But up here, we’re untouchable. Filthy and free.

I feel him release inside of me, and I shudder beneath him. It feels right. He feels right.

When it’s over, I’m wrapped in his arms, breathing him in like the air might thin without him.

“I don’t want to go down,” I say.

“Then we won’t.”

The sky keeps bleeding. The trees keep whispering.

And for the first time in forever, I’m not haunted.

I’m home.

* * *

The front door clicks shut behind me, and it feels like a full-circle moment—the kind that tightens your chest and softens your b ones all at once. I’m still wearing the same hoodie from after the hike, my fingers ghosting over the new weight on my hand.

The diamond catches the light.

It’s not obsidian like I once imagined he’d give me. Not jagged. Not cursed. Just… clear. Honest.

Pure.

The irony tastes like sugar on my tongue.

Lucien’s upstairs, showering off the mountain dust and adrenaline. I should join him—but there’s one person I need to see first.

I grab my phone, flop down onto the couch, and hit FaceTime – Evelyn ????.

It only rings twice.

Her face appears, freshly moisturized and already annoyed.

“What? You finally resurfaced. Did you kill a bear or—wait.” Her eyes narrow. “Why do you look like that?”

I bite my lip, holding my hand off-screen for just another beat longer.

“Look like what?”

“Like you’re about to drop a bomb. Spill it.”

I grin. Then I lift my hand into frame.

Evelyn screams.

Like, actually screams—sharp, high-pitched, and so loud I yank the phone away from my face. I burst out laughing as her blurry form readjusts.

“Shut the fuck up,” she gasps. “Astra. ASTRA!”

“I’m guessing you approve?”

“Bitch, that is not a ring. That’s a declaration of war. What the Hell, is that a full carat? Two?”

I glance at it again. The way it glints—icy but warm. Brutal but soft.

“It’s clean,” I say quietly. “No blood. Just… us.”

She stares at me, blinking hard. Her usual snark fades for a second, replaced by something almost tender.

“You look happy,” she says. “Like actual, terrifying, might-bury-a-body-with-him happy.”

I shrug, tucking my legs up under me. “I am. I think I’m finally… not running.”

“Not even from yourself?”

I pause.

“No. Not even from me.”

Evelyn smiles, and it feels like old times—like dance parties in her room with cheap wine and bad decisions waiting at the door.

“Lucien did good,” she says, then lifts a mug into view. “To redemption arcs, real love, and the hottest diamond I’ve ever seen. Cheers.”

“Cheers,” I echo, clinking my water bottle to the screen.

A pause stretches between us, soft and unspoken.

“I’m proud of you, Astra.”

My chest tightens.

“I know,” I whisper. “I’m finally proud of myself, too.”

* * *

The morning sunlight is too soft for how loud my thoughts are.

Lucien’s already gone, said he had something to “handle,” and kissed my shoulder before slipping out. I didn’t ask where. Maybe I should’ve. But it’s easier to pretend everything’s normal when you don’t chase the shadows around the edges.

I sit on the c ouch, legs tucked under me, phone in my lap. My finger hovers over the name I haven’t called in months.

Harmony.

It’s not as if we ever spoke daily. She’s not that kind of friend. But even when she disappeared for stretches of time, she always came back with a text, a meme, a song lyric that only made sense to us.

But this time… It’s been silent.

I press call anyway.

The phone rings once.

Twice.

Three times.

“Come on,” I whisper.

Four.

Five.

Straight to voicemail.

“Hey, it’s Harmony. Don’t be weird—leave a message or don’t.”

Her voice punches me in the ribs. It sounds older now. Like someone I used to know instead of someone I still do.

The beep echoes, and I stare at the screen, not ready to speak.

Then I end the call.

No message.

I don’t know what I’d say anyway.

I scroll up through our old texts. The last one was a thumbs-up she sent after I told her I’d be off-grid for a bit. That was months ago. Before the overdose. Before Lucien. Before everything.

She never responded to the follow-up. Not to anything after I said I was okay.

What if she wa sn’t?

I chew on my nail, heart tightening with every unsent message I stare at.

I think of the note she left me once— You’re not crazy. Just haunted.

At the time, I laughed it off.

Now I wonder if it was a breadcrumb.

She knew something.

She warned me in her own cryptic, offhand Harmony way. And I didn’t listen.

What if someone got to her?

What if they used her the way they tried to use me?

A chill runs up my spine. I glance toward the hallway where Lucien keeps his files locked up.

No.

I can’t go down that rabbit hole again. Not yet. Not without proof.

I try calling again, straight to voicemail.

My thumb hovers for a beat, then taps text .

ASTRA: I miss you. I’m okay now. I really need to know you are too. Just one word. Please.

I stare at the screen for minutes after it sends.

Nothing.

I throw the phone onto the cushion beside me and bury my head in my hands.

Maybe she’s just off the grid. Maybe she needed to disappear.

But something in my gut doesn’t believe that.

Not anymore.

Not with the w ay everything else has been unraveling.

Not with the way Lucien looked when I asked about her last week.

Guilt.

Brief, but sharp.

He knows something.

He’s just not ready to tell me.

I curl tighter into myself, blinking back the sudden sting behind my eyes.

I wanted this new life to feel like peace.

But there’s still blood beneath the surface.

Still names without closure.

And Harmony’s might be the next one on the list.