CHAPTER 5: THE WEIGHT OF THE SILENT

The rag in my hand was grey, damp, and smelled faintly of sour yeast and industrial bleach. I pushed it across the scarred wood of the table, my movements mechanical. Every time I closed my eyes, I could see my mother’s face not the face of a mother who loved, but the face of a woman who was saving me by selling me to a man of God.

Marry him, Ella. He will wash away the rebellion in your heart.

The rebellion they talked about was just me wanting to breathe. But in my father’s house, breathing was a luxury.

You missed a spot.

The voice was like a jagged piece of glass. I didn't have to look up to know it was Elias. He was the kind of man who enjoyed the power of a small room. Since my parents had basically given me to him to work off some of their own perceived spiritual debts, he treated me like property.

I’m sorry, sir, I whispered. My voice felt thin, like paper.

Sorry doesn't get the grime off my tables. Elias stepped closer, the floorboards groaning under his weight. He didn't just stand there,he loomed. He reached out, his thick calloused thumb catching the underside of my jaw and forcing my head up. I hated his touch. It felt oily. You are lucky you are pretty, Ella. If you weren't, I would have thrown you out into the street weeks ago. Though I suppose the Pastor wouldn't like his prize being handled by the street, would he?

He laughed, a wet, rattling sound. You are sitting here with that needy look in your eyes again. Thinking about running? You won't. You are too scared of the fire.

I pulled away, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird. He was right. I was terrified. Not of the fire he talked about, but of the life that was being mapped out for me. A life of silence. A life with, the Pastor who looked at me with eyes that were anything but holy or his son that pulls away my dress with his eyes.

The sound started as a low vibration in the floor a deep, guttural thrum that made the half empty bottles on the bar shelves clink against one another. It grew louder, a mechanical scream that tore through the quiet morning.

Then, silence. A heavy silence.

The front door of the bar didn't just open,it groaned as it was shoved back on its hinges.

The light from outside caught the dust in the air, framing the man in the doorway like a dark omen. Kane. The President of the MC. To some, he was a criminal. To Elias, he was a nightmare in leather. To me… he was the Witcher. A man who lived in the shadows and spoke in threats.

He walked in, his boots striking the floor with a heavy thud He was loud. Not because he was shouting, but because his presence was so violent it felt like a shout.

Elias turned white. He dropped the crate of beer he was holding, and a bottle shattered, the smell of hops filling the room. Kane! It’s… it’s not Tuesday.

Kane didn't answer immediately. He walked to the bar, dragging a stool out with a screech that made me flinch. He sat down, his large hands covered in grease and scarred knuckles resting on the counter. He looked at Elias, and then he did it.

He flapped his teeth.

It was a jagged, terrifying smile that didn't reach his eyes. It was the look a wolf gives a rabbit before the kill.

I know it’s not Tuesday, Elias, Kane growled. His voice was deep, vibrating in my chest. I’m a man of my word. I said I would collect on Tuesday, and I will.

Elias was sweating now, wiping his palms on his stained apron. Then why… why are you here? I don't have it yet, Kane. I swear, the shipments

Shut up, Kane said softly. The room went cold. I’m thirsty. Give me a drink.

Elias blinked, confused. A drink? You rode all the way out here for a drink?

Is there an echo in here? Kane leaned forward, his leather vest creaking. Give me a whiskey. Neat.

As Elias scrambled to pour the drink, Kane’s gaze didn't stay on the bar. It drifted. It searched.

And then it found me. I held my breath but my pants was already damp

I was still tucked in my corner, the grey rag clutched in my hand. I felt exposed, like a deer caught in a spotlight. The tension comprised the very air between us. It wasn't the bullying tension of Elias,this was something magnetic. Something dangerous but honest.

He was looking at me.

You, he said, his voice dropping an octave.

I couldn't speak. I just looked at him, my needy heart suddenly racing for a completely different reason. He had come back early. He had used the money as an excuse, a lie to tell himself and Elias, just so he could stand in the same room as the girl who was being sold to a Pastor.

Are you still cleaning that same table, Angel? he asked, a hint of something. not quite a joke, but something softer in his rough voice.

Yes, I managed to whisper.

Good, Kane said, taking the whiskey glass Elias offered without looking at it. His eyes stayed locked on mine. Don't go anywhere. I haven't finished my drink.

Elias looked between us, his eyes narrowing. He saw the shift. He saw the way the most dangerous man in the state was looking at the innocent girl he liked to bully.

T for the first time in my life, the shadows felt like they might actually be safer than the light.