Silent love

Chapter 50

On the previous chapter...

I stepped through the haze, gun raised, heart pounding in my ears.

Inside, smoke clung to the air, curling around the hanging light fixtures.

And then I saw them.

At the far end of the corridor, past the rows of cell doors, figures emerged from the haze, too many to count at first, but all armed.

Rifles. Blades.

Eyes locked on me.

And in the center of them—

Valerio.

Smiling.

He stood like a king in his rotting palace, calm, composed, and cruel.

And in front of him, clutched in his arm, was Yaqueline.

Her face was bloodied, but her eyes were wide, alive. A thin line of red ran down her temple, but she was standing. Breathing.

Valerio's knife was pressed against her throat, just enough to nick the skin. One move and—

"Drop your weapon". He said, voice smooth, almost amused. "Or I open her from chin to chest".

Every rifle in the room turned to me.

And just like that, I realized—

We'd walked straight into his trap.

ʚ YAQUELINE'S POV ɞ

I didn't know if I was awake or dreaming.

It all felt the same now the room, the cold, the endless white hum of the lights above. Time was slipping through my fingers. I couldn't hold onto any of it.

Everything buzzed.

My body had stopped hurting the way it did before. It wasn't sharp anymore. Just... distant. Like the pain had settled too deep for nerves to reach. Like my bones had given up telling me I was alive.

I was on the floor. I don't remember sitting down. My head leaned against the wall, my knees drawn in. At some point, I'd stopped fighting the cuffs. The skin was torn and raw beneath them, but it didn't bleed anymore.

It didn't matter. None of it mattered.

He wasn't coming.

But my brother would.

That was the thought that kept circling back.

If he was alive, he would've been here.
If he cared, he would've found me.

If I meant anything at all, I wouldn't be here, in this fucking room, with their machines and their voices and the shadows behind the door.

Maybe I broke already and didn't realize it.

Maybe this was what broken looked like,not screaming, not blood, but this slow quiet slide into nothing.

A soft decay.

I let my head fall back. The ceiling spun.

There was something beautiful about that.

I wanted to sleep.

But I was afraid of what I'd see there.

His face.

Their voices.

That night.

The trigger pulling.

Was that worse than this?