Deadly Silence ||Black Noir x Reader||

Chapter 37

"I'm sorry," Y/N began, but the word barely left her lips before Noir's hand shot out, roughly grabbing her neck.

The force of his grip slammed her back against the wall, his fingers digging into her skin as he squeezed hard, cutting off her air. She struggled, clawing at his hands, trying to pry his fingers away, but it was no use. His strength was overwhelming, his grip like a vice around her throat.

Her vision blurred as she fought to breathe, gasping, choking, her hands growing weaker by the second. She could feel the life draining out of her, the edges of her consciousness fading to black. This was it. This was how it would end.

He was a cold-blooded killer after all.

Noir's mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, none of them making sense. This was the right thing to do. She was a traitor, a fucking mole who'd been working against them all along. He should end this, end her. But if this was right, why did it feel so wrong? Why did he feel so goddamn guilty?

Y/N's struggles weakened, her eyes fluttering shut as she teetered on the edge of unconsciousness. And then, just as suddenly as he'd grabbed her, Noir let go.

She crumpled to the floor, coughing and gasping for breath, clutching at her throat. Her vision swam as she tried to steady herself, tried to understand why she was still alive.

Noir stepped back, his chest heaving as he fought to control the turmoil inside him. He turned away from her, his gaze locking onto the whiteboard across the room. He marched over to it, grabbed a marker, and furiously scrawled out a single question in bold, jagged letters:

WHO ARE YOU?

Y/N stared at the words, still gasping for breath, the room spinning around her. She didn't answer, didn't dare to. But then, Noir slammed his fist against the board, the sound reverberating through the room, making her flinch.

He turned to her, his eyes burning with a demand for the truth.

"Who are you?" his body screamed at her without words.

She swallowed, her throat raw, her voice barely more than a whisper as she finally spoke. "I'm an undercover agent."

Noir didn't move, but the slight shift in his posture told her he was listening. His hand twitched, gripping the marker so tightly his knuckles turned white. He was waiting for more.

She didn't tell him who she worked for. She couldn't. But she saw the disappointment in his eyes, the way his shoulders sagged as he realized she was still holding back.

He wiped the board clean with his sleeve, then wrote another question:

WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS?

Y/N hesitated, searching for the right words, knowing that nothing she said would make this any better. But she owed him the truth. At least some of it.

"To take down Vought," she said, her voice firmer now, though it trembled at the edges. "Specifically Homelander."

Noir stood there, staring at the words she'd spoken. Homelander. Of course.

He'd heard enough.

Noir walked toward her, his steps slow, deliberate, as if each one was a struggle. He reached out and pulled out a dagger. He pressed it to her throat, the cold metal buried into her skin.

Y/N didn't flinch. Instead, she laughed—a bitter, humorless sound that cut through the tension like a knife.

"When Homelander finds out, he'll torture the answers out of me," she said, her voice steady even as the blade pressed harder against her neck. "But I won't speak. Not to him. Not to anyone. Everything I have to say, I'm saying to you right now. So fucking kill me. Make my death painless."

Noir's hand shook, just for a moment, the blade trembling against her skin. Normally, he'd do it. He'd slit her throat without a second thought, or he'd turn her over to Vought and let them deal with her. But he didn't do either of those things.

He just stood there, staring down at her, the anger and confusion boiling inside him. She was the enemy. She'd betrayed him, betrayed them all. But somehow... he couldn't hate her. Not completely.

Y/N's eyes met his.

"Kill me, Noir," she said, her voice was a challenge now. "Do it."

He didn't move.

"Slit my fucking throat!" she screamed at him, the words echoing in the small room.

Noir's resolve faltered. He lowered the dagger. He took a step back, then another, and before he knew what he was doing, he buried his face in her neck.

She froze, confused and scared, as he pressed his forehead against her shoulder, his breath warm against her skin. He hated her for what she was doing to him. She was making him weak, tearing down the walls he'd built up for years, and he hated her for it.

But he couldn't stop.

And that was the worst part.

A/N~ UM GUYS IT'S GETTING PRETTY MESSY..........................................also I lowkey wanna chnage my username but, I will definitely keep the foxx part (I will have to update all my freaking book covers)