Novelas y relatos de Thesilentcompanions

His eyes weren't blue like Roman's; they were a dark, molten amber that seemed to track the very rhythm of my failing heart. "You're late, Elara," Silas said, his voice a low vibration that didn't spark the "Voice" in my head. He wasn't part of my pack. To him, I was psychically silent. It was the most beautiful thing I’d ever experienced. "I had to wait for the house to go quiet," I rasped, clutching the folder of bridge schematics to my chest. "The Crescent Pack doesn't like it when their 'property' wanders." Silas stepped closer, into the sliver of moonlight. He didn't growl. He didn't loom. He just watched the way my chest laboured for air. "You're dying."

They carried silenced, compressed-air kinetic rifles. The Ledger-Men. "Contact," the lead Enforcer whispered into his comms, his rifle snapping up to his shoulder with terrifying speed. "Move!" Tristan roared. The need for absolute silence vanished. Pffft-pffft-pffft. The silenced rifles spat high-velocity slugs. Sparks flew as bullets ricocheted off the steel grating at Tristan’s feet.

The sound was a scream. Shhh-tack. Shhh-tack. Shhh-tack. Shhh-tack. I looked at the platform. The hall was full of Elders. They looked at the sundial. I looked at the Alpha's empty seat. I looked at the empty space for Sophie. I looked at the empty spot for Cassian. The silence was loud. I saw Silas and Martha. They stood by their station. Their faces were pale. They looked at the gate every ten seconds. They wanted a miracle.

“The rest of you came as a surprise package.” We stop at a light. The light turns green and we move again. “Are you free later?” I ask Silas. “Why?” “I may need entertainment. Watching you panic is becoming a reliable hobby.” “I am blocking your number.” “You will not.” He does not answer, which means I am right. We reach the company and take the elevator together. People in the hallway nod as we pass. Someone from marketing salutes Silas with a coffee cup. He ignores it. In Vorian’s office, Silas drops into a chair and rubs his face with both hands. “I need a quieter girlfriend. Or a quieter job. Or a quieter country.”

A quiet filled the village square, sharp and deadly. From the tree line, figures emerged. They moved with a unison that was deeply unnerving, their footsteps making no sound on the hard earth. They wore robes of grey and undyed wool, and their faces were placid, devoid of emotion. They carried no visible weapons, and their leader was a woman with hair the colour of frost and eyes that were the flat grey of a winter sky. The Silent Sisters. Alistair’s archivists. Ronan’s healers.

she whispered. “I don’t either,” Henry replied, voice cracking. They stood facing each other, two broken hearts bound by the same ghost. Outside, the last ray of sunlight faded, leaving the room in twilight. And in that twilight, a new silence settled between them, one heavier, deeper, and more intimate than ever before. The silence between two hearts. Elena suddenly remember how she dead!

Wind blew through the trees, rustling the leaves in a way that felt almost sinister. And underneath the sound of the wind, she could hear footsteps. Disjointed and uneven, those footsteps kept following behind her. She glanced around, and it was darkness everywhere. The shadows stretched long across the ground, as if something were lurking. Nissa felt a chill crawl up her spine. She quickened her pace. But just as she turned a corner, a gang of thugs closed in on her from behind. She froze, heart pounding, and stumbled backward a few steps. The leader, a man with dyed blond hair, rubbed his hands together with a greasy grin. "Hey, pretty girl. How about keeping us company tonight?"

Is this the end of everything she held onto? A heavy silence hangs over her as she stares at him, as he laughs with the woman by his side, as he smiles and moves without a single glance in her direction. Her heart breaks, over and over, the pieces falling apart with each passing second, each breath, each stolen glance she risks. Suddenly, the hum of conversation fades, replaced by the echo of footsteps. A man steps onto the stage, gripping a microphone, his voice slicing through the stillness like a blade. “Welcome to today’s auction.”

Cassian snapped, though his voice dropped slightly. Selene walked back to her desk and glanced down at her cell phone, which was sitting face-down right next to her laptop. Reaching out, she turned it over and tapped the screen. The screen lit up with a long list of missed calls from Cassian and his marketing staff. At the very top, the small icon of a slashed bell showed that the phone was still set to total silence. She had turned the volume off two hours ago, wanting to drown out every single thought of him with work.

The creature slowly leaned down to grab the tube, and in a moment, it was slung over its shoulder. "Come on, let's go," it said to its companion, who had been peering up the stairs where Raia and the others had come down to the basement. "Do you think we can go upstairs? Even if we only get one of the new students, that would be okay with me, as long as I could eat fresh meat," the companion said, licking their lips as if savoring a delicious meal. "Are you crazy? Do you want Mr. A to have you killed? Perhaps you're forgetting the rules in Rayven's territory," the companion reminded him.