Page 9 of Ugly Truths (The Veiled Truths Trilogy #2)

Elena

M y eyes are fixed on the raw marks forming around my wrists, on my jeans stained from my shift at Bluebird’s, on the cement directly in front of me. Anywhere but him.

Even with all our careful planning, he still found me.

Why did I expect anything less?

Footsteps echo, each one a fraying thread in a rope of a guillotine. My body refuses to move, even when the tips of his polished shoes enter my line of sight.

The rage rolls off of him in waves, pummeling me.

“Don’t be a coward, Elena .”

A hand clamps around my jaw, thumb and middle fingers pressing into the hinge, an ache already settling deep in the muscle and forcing my mouth open. With a quick jerk, my gaze is forced upward. His eyes—hell’s own inferno—burn into mine.

“Look at me when I’m speaking to you.”

For a split second, I hoped my many nightmares would dull this pain, but Silas’s hatred cuts through me as sharp and effective as any torture.

Just as I part my mouth further to speak, his grip digs into my skin to keep me still. Pain laces through the joint and I gasp.

“Don’t say a fucking word until I tell you to,” he seethes, face only inches from mine .

Tears well behind my eyes, and I blink them away furiously. There has to be something so deeply wrong with me because, despite everything, feeling his calloused fingers against my skin—to have him standing directly in front of me—feels like taking my first real breath in months.

And almost instantly, it’s replaced with a weight so heavy that I could swear I’m drowning.

“Already starting with the theatrics?” He bares his teeth, lips curling into something that’s almost a smile.

Cillian . Cillian was the one who grabbed me.

“How did you find me?” I whisper, forcing my mouth to move against his hold.

His laugh is low and mirthless, twisting the sharp pain already embedded deep in my chest. “Your bank account in Arizona.” My stomach plummets. How could I be so stupid? “You held out longer than I expected.” His eyes narrow, poison lacing his words. “Did your little boyfriend run out of money?”

Holy fuck. Luis.

Whatever they drugged me with must melt brain cells because it hadn’t even crossed my mind that they’d take him, too.

“Where’s Luis?” My voice somehow remains even, despite my hammering pulse.

Silas's grip intensifies before he shoves me back, releasing my face like a filthy rodent. He recovers quickly as he turns, shifting to lean against the wall a few feet away, composed once more.

“Is that his name?” His voice is almost bored. “He’s been… uncooperative.”

I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to push past the roaring static in my mind. God only knows how long I’ve been out and how long they’ve been trying to get answers out of Luis. Of course, he’s still holding out to protect me.

Damnit, Luis. You stupid, stubborn asshole.

“Silas,” my voice teeters on desperate despite my best efforts, “all he did was help me leave Chicago. This is all on me. ”

“How noble of him,” Silas sneers, tilting his head. “If he involved himself in your mess, Elena , then he’s as guilty as you are.”

He says my name like a curse, and I wince. The slight reaction fuels him; his lips curling until a diabolical smile settles onto his perfect face.

“You hate it, don’t you?” His voice dips. “That I figured out who you really are. I know more about you than you ever thought possible, Ms. Cross.”

A bitter laugh bubbles up before I can stop it.

I can practically see Davey at his computer, Cillian hovering nearby, the others not far behind.

Each of them pulling apart the pieces of my life like they’re solving some puzzle.

Every police report from a neighbor calling about my parents screaming through the walls.

Every address tied to a building that should’ve been condemned.

The few ER visits that only happened because the school nurse threatened to call someone if they didn’t. The media coverage of Drew’s death.

My eyes burn as I drop my gaze, my head hanging under the crushing weight of shame.

“You’re the most capable person I’ve ever known,” I murmur barely above a whisper. “I have no doubt you figured it all out.”

Silence settles while I stare at my lap, and I start to wonder what he’s thinking about before he breaks it.

“Why?”

I turn my head toward him, my voice worn and heavy. “Why what?”

“Don’t play dumb with me,” he snaps, pushing off the wall and stepping in front of me again. “You owe me more than that.”

I swallow hard, the words sticking to the back of my throat. I want to explain—to give him something, anything—but I can’t. Not when Luis’s life hangs in the balance.

I force myself to meet his stare. “I had a contract I needed to fulfill.”

He closes the remaining distance between us with predatory precision. “And what did this contract entail?” he presses, towering over me. “Who do you work for? ”

Typical Silas—bulldozing his way through a negotiation. Why wouldn’t he? He holds almost all the cards, but not the few I have left. If he’s asking, that means there are still missing pieces. Whether he likes it or not, he needs me to fill in those gaps.

The only questions are how much they know and what I can do to leverage it to get Luis out of here.

“Why am I still alive?” I ask. “Why not just kill me when you found me?”

His jaw tightens, the muscle twitching as if he's holding back the full brunt of his rage. Then, his hand shoots out, gripping my chin with bruising force. His face is so close that I can feel the heat of his breath and smell the faint scent of his aftershave beneath the bitterness clinging to him.

“I don’t think you’re exactly in the position to be asking questions,” he growls.

He wants to hurt me. I can see it in his eyes, feel it in the way his fingers dig into my jaw like he’s trying to keep himself from doing something worse.

The fear is instant, but there’s something else clawing its way to the surface.

Maybe it’s stupidity or survival. Or it’s just the last shred of my dignity refusing to let him see me cower.

Whatever it is, it wins.

“When has that ever stopped me before?” I whisper.

My answer catches him off guard, forcefully reminding that I never backed down from his challenges before. Then, he leans back, running his tongue across his teeth.

“I wouldn’t have gone through the trouble of keeping you alive if I didn’t have a use for you,” he replies finally, shrugging. “Now quit wasting my time.”

“I don’t work for anyone anymore.”

His grip tightens. “Who gave you the fucking contract?” he demands through gritted teeth .

Silas will never relent on this; I know that much. His determination for and loyalty to his family—two things I once loved most about him—won’t allow him to let this go.

“I have people to protect.” My answer is quiet. “The same way you do.”

For a split second, frustration gives way to confusion, but it’s quickly lost under another wave of violence. “So, you’re protecting the person who gave you the job?”

“That’s not what I said.”

“Then what are you saying?” he snaps.

“I won’t tell you anything unless we make a deal," I say, my heart threatening to explode out of my chest.

Silas’s hand drops. For a long moment, he watches me. Searching for an answer or a weakness, but he won’t find one. It doesn’t take long for his expression to shift, a bitter smile creeping onto his lips.

“I think you will.”

Finality laces every syllable. I don’t have to guess what he’s thinking.

I can practically see the twisted, methodical ways he’s already planning to break me.

He’ll drag it out for as long as he can, savoring every second, inflicting as much pain as it takes until something gives—my body or my mind, whichever goes first.

It’s the pleasure he takes in the thought, barely masked beneath the fury, that undoes me.

I don’t know this man.

The quiet, careful one I watched movies with in his attic. The one I challenged without fear. The one I chipped away at, piece by piece. He’s buried alive beneath whatever this is. The force of all of it is a bullet that ricochets through me.

The tears I’ve been holding back spill over, quick but silent, streaking down my face as I meet his gaze head-on. “Then I guess we’re done here.”

His eyes blaze with something I can’t quite place, but I know he understands me.

If he doesn’t want to meet me halfway, we won’t be meeting anywhere at all.

I’ll take it to the grave, or the bottom of Lake Michigan, or on the floor of this room.

It doesn't matter where it happens. I'll leave this earth with every secret he wants to pry out of me.

Whatever emotion flickered in his expression vanishes as quickly as it came before his mouth curls into something cruel. “I’ll decide when we’re done. And when I do, I'll make sure it’s finished properly this time.”

Something inside me fractures. The pain wraps around my ribs, seizes my organs, and squeezes so tight I swear they’ll spill out of my pores. Still, I refuse to look away from him.

“Did you find what was on the servers?” My voice cracks on the last word.

Silas’s frustration flares like a match struck too close. “I know everything on those servers. What I’m still trying to figure out is what you were looking for.”

If it’s possible for the vice already squeezing the life out of me to tighten, it does.

That can’t be true.

“You’ve seen what your father is burying?”

His face darkens, a shadow falling over his features. “I’m about to run this company, Elena. I know everything.”

My vision blurs as the words slam into me, but they don’t make sense.

They can’t.

The Silas I knew would never be capable of standing by and letting it happen. He was fighting for his employees. For his sister. Hell, for a woman he barely knew because she was in trouble. He cared about people.

But maybe I never knew the real Silas.

Maybe the person in front of me, coiled with hatred and something darker, is who he always was, but I just never experienced it. Maybe I misread him all along, and I risked my life just to give another terrible man the chance to bury his sins.

Even as my thoughts spiral, my mouth betrays me. “I don’t believe you.” I think it’s more for myself than for him .

White-hot pressure flares in my neck as Silas grabs me, cutting off my air. Pain radiates down into my chest. I instinctively yank against the restraints to grab his wrist, only for the coarse rope to dig deeper into my skin, slicing into flesh already rubbed raw. The chair jerks and creaks.

“Don’t you dare speak like you know me.”

My lungs burn as black blotches bloom at the edges of my vision. Pressure builds behind my eyes.

“I do know you, Silas,” I rasp, even though I’m not sure that’s true anymore.

His armor cracks, and the agony crawls its way to the surface, carving itself on every feature. And for a second, I see him—my Silas. He’s right there, just within reach.

The fingers around my throat loosen just enough to make the dark edges of my vision sharpen once again. “I thought I knew you ,” he breathes out like he’s trying to exhale the pain before it consumes him. “Why did you do this?”

Fresh tears slide down my cheeks and onto his hand. The warmth of them seeps into the creases of his skin. I feel it. So does he.

“I didn’t have a choice,” I whimper.

“You did,” he hisses. “Me. You could have chosen me .”

The venom of his words wraps around me like a noose. It tightens with every second, pulling me deeper into the infinite depths of his hatred.

This is what happens with everything I touch.

My voice wobbles through quiet sobs. “I wanted to. So badly.”

He hesitates. Like there’s something lingering on the tip of his tongue, right before icing over.

“Bullshit.”

The assertion severs any traces of doubt I thought I might have just seen, but I can't let it go.

Even if it changes nothing. Especially if it changes nothing.

I barely recognize the man standing in front of me, but the one I knew deserves to hear the truth, regardless of whether he wants to or not.

My throat bobs against his palm as I swallow, the edges of his face watery from unshed tears. “I gain nothing by lying to you,” I whisper.

His jaw tightens. In that silence, I feel the inevitability of the end drawing closer and it clicks into place. It’s etched into every hard line of his face, the sharp set of his mouth, the cold finality in his dark brown eyes. This has consumed him, and there’s no space left in him for doubt.

Or mercy.

He steps back. “I’ll be back in a few hours.” His frigid eyes cast a final glance over me. “Hopefully, you’ll have smartened up by then and have a name to give me. We won’t be making any deals.”

The certainty in his voice shatters the final images I’ve held onto for months, and I have no one but myself to blame.

As he reaches the door, something desperate rises within me, clawing its way up my throat. “When the time comes to…” My words trail off, unable to say them, “let someone else do it. You shouldn’t have to.”

He freezes.

Time stretches, suspending us both in the weight of my words. It presses on him, trailing down his spine and outward, like a heat I could almost reach out and touch.

Then, he opens the door and slams it shut behind him, leaving me with nothing.

Just like I deserve.