Silent Words With K Novels & Stories

If it wasn't for how much he loved her, he would have already thrown her out of the window. "What do you mean by this? Why are you just looking at me and not speaking?" Kevin was a considerate man most of the time but occasionally, Karen could not fathom the source of his tantrums. Did she really not understand what he meant? Kevin was so frustrated that he didn't say a word. Looking at Kevin, who was so cold and silent, Karen shook her head helplessly and said, "Kevin, you refused to speak now. So, are you're giving me the silent treatment?"

His foot tapped silently to music that only he could hear. They all noticed me. I could feel it in the shift of the air. But no one said anything. We were good at silence. We understood each other without having to speak. The room was quiet, but not in a lonely way. It was a heavy, familiar quiet, like the calm just before a storm. “I need to talk to you all,” I said. Kaid’s response came instantly—sharp and cold, like a blade unsheathed. “If it’s about another clue to where Aria is—or anything else about her—don’t.” His voice didn’t waver, but the weight behind it was unmistakable. “Don’t say it.”

Silence. Complete silence, of course drama queen. I blinked slowly.“…What?” Kael didn’t even react. Just leaned back slightly like this was normal. Because apparently… it was. And I closed my eyes for a second.“…I’m not ready for this,” I muttered.

On the red room screen, Mira had fallen asleep sitting up for three seconds, chin on the blue socks, before jerking awake with panic in her face. "Still here," Silas told her. "I know." "You were sleeping." "I blinked long." "Bad lie." "Shut up." He did. Awkwardly. Like silence was a tool he had forgotten how to hold. I turned my wrist toward the debt key. "Kael." "Here." His voice was so thin. The word came with static and a wet edge he tried to hide. I could picture him somewhere beyond the nursery feed, strapped into whatever remained of Battery K-01, jaw locked, throat raw from the scream he had cut short. I did not let the picture soften me too far.

I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. “Yes, just like that,” Keziah pressed, seeing my silence as an admission of guilt. He stood up slowly, his movements fluid and predatory. “Don't speak again. That's how you should be. Don't talk when you're not asked to. We're living under the same roof doesn't mean you're on our level.”

My hand was still on my abdomen. The baby was still. Thirty minutes. The quality of the silence had shifted again — become something denser, more charged, the way the air changed before weather arrived, and I understood without looking that Kai was on the edge of saying something. I had learned the particular quality of his silences when they were preparatory, when they were the silence before a thing rather than the silence that was a thing in itself. I waited. Twenty-five minutes outside the pack lands, on a dark road through trees that were becoming more themselves the farther we went, he said: