Deadly Silence ||Black Noir x Reader||

Chapter 45

The room was deathly quiet, the tension thick enough to choke on. Noir's every movement felt heavy, deliberate, as if he were trying to control the inevitable. He slowly stood up, his gaze locked on Homelander's cold, expectant eyes. Y/N's heart raced in her chest, her mind screaming at her to do something, but she was frozen in place, waiting for the blow she knew was coming.

"Choke her to death," Homelander repeated, his voice dripping with malicious authority. "With your bare hands. Literally. Take your gloves off."

Y/N's blood ran cold. She had always known Noir was capable of violence, but this—this was something else. As he began to remove his gloves, the reality of her situation slammed into her. He was going to kill her. He was actually going to kill her.

A-Train exchanged a nervous glance with Maeve, both of them clearly unsettled by the scene unfolding before them. Noir turned his back to Homelander, and for a brief moment, Y/N saw him put a finger over his mouth, as if trying to communicate something. But what? Was he warning her? Telling her to stay quiet? She wasn't sure what to think. Her mind was spinning.

Homelander's voice broke through her thoughts, louder and more threatening. "Do this, and you prove that you're loyal to Vought. That you choose us over her. Unless, of course, you're a traitor too, just like Starlight."

The words seemed to hit Noir like a trigger. His hand shot out, grasping Y/N's neck with a strength that took her breath away—literally. He squeezed, hard, and Y/N's hands instinctively flew to his, trying to pry him off, but his grip was unyielding. He shoved her against the wall, his expression unreadable, but she could tell that he was holding back, carefully calculating the pressure.

Y/N's vision began to blur as the lack of oxygen took its toll. She realized with a strange clarity that Noir wasn't trying to kill her—at least, not really. He was putting on a show, making it believable enough for Homelander, but not enough to actually end her life. It was a gamble, a dangerous one, but she had no choice but to play along.

As her body went limp, Y/N let herself collapse to the floor, pretending to be dead. Noir kept his hands around her neck, his grip loosening just enough to let her breathe, but still holding on for the performance. She could feel her pulse pounding in her ears, but she forced herself to remain still, to stay in character.

Homelander waited a beat, then turned to Maeve. "Check her. Make sure she's dead."

Maeve's face was calm as she stood and walked over to Y/N, kneeling beside her. She looked at Noir for a split second, a silent exchange passing between them. Then, she placed two fingers on Y/N's neck, feeling for a pulse. Relief washed over her when she found it, but she kept her expression neutral as she looked back up at Homelander.

"She's dead," Maeve lied, her voice steady and convincing.

Homelander stared at Maeve for a long moment, as if weighing her words. Then, he smiled—a cruel, satisfied smile—and nodded. "Good. Clean up this mess. Noir, you did well."

Noir slowly stepped back, releasing Y/N's neck as he stood up. His hands were shaking slightly, the adrenaline still coursing through him. Y/N lay still on the floor, barely daring to breathe.