The Crimson Silence

The Cost of Vengeance

Tears fell from Cynthia's eyes, her body frozen, held captive by the horror of what she had just witnessed. Her lips moved, but her voice was barely a whisper, shaking as she tried to speak. Jake stood motionless, eyes on her, while hers were fixed on the blood-pooling beneath her father’s lifeless body.

“Jake… what… what did you do?” Cynthia’s voice cracked, trembling and strained.

Jake straightened slowly, taking a hesitant step toward her. She recoiled instinctively, her body taut with tension.

“Cynth…” Jake’s voice was low, edged with something sharp and desperate.

“You killed him… you… you killed…” Cynthia’s words stumbled out, her voice shivering as she clutched the wall, backing away.

“Cynthia,” Jake said gently, moving toward her with deliberate caution. “Just… sit down for a moment. Please.”

But Cynthia shook her head, her voice nearly lost as she muttered, “Don’t come near me…”

Jake stopped, casting a long glance at David’s body before turning his gaze back to Cynthia. His tone hardened.

“Your father was a monster, Cynthia. He’s hurt people for years.”

Cynthia’s blank stare gradually sharpened, hardening as his words sank in, disbelief etched across her face.

“He’s the reason Anna’s gone, Cynth,” Jake added, a weary sadness coloring his voice.

The reality seemed to crush Cynthia. She slid down the wall, her face pale and tear-streaked, unable to look at Jake, unable to comprehend any of it. She fumbled for her phone, clutching it like a lifeline as she started to dial.

Jake moved quickly, snatching the phone from her hand and tossing it aside. He took out his own phone and, with a flick of his finger, began showing her images. One by one, they appeared on the screen: faces of people whose lives David had destroyed.

“Your father did this,” Jake said, his voice barely concealing his fury. “Each of these people, Cynthia. They suffered because of him.”

She sobbed harder, her gaze darting between the images on Jake’s phone and her father’s body. Shaking, she leaned into Jake, her cries muffled against his shoulder.

“I’m sorry, Cynth,” Jake murmured. “But this… it had to be done.”

Cynthia’s face lifted, her expression distant, her eyes glazed with tears. “Are… are you hurt?”

Jake was taken aback, momentarily silent. He swallowed, a look of something close to guilt in his eyes, and he shook his head. “No… I’m okay.”

At that exact moment, a phone rang—David’s burner, lying on the table. Jake crossed the room, picked it up, and pressed the speaker button. A rough voice came through.

“Nebula, this is Corvus. I have the French bitch. Taking her to our warehouse downtown.”

Cynthia stared at Jake in confused horror as he disconnected the call, his face tight with realization. Alexandra had been taken by Angela’s people.

“Jake… what’s happening?” Cynthia asked, her voice breaking.

Jake exhaled, gripping Cynthia’s shoulders. “I’ll explain, but I need to go right now.” Grabbing a pen and paper, he scrawled down a note and handed it to her.

“This is my password. Log into my laptop. Everything you need to know is there. And when the time comes… do what needs to be done.”

Jake steadied himself, pausing just a moment, and took a deep, strained breath. He looked at Cynthia, his face hardened with the weight of everything and said,