Silenced by Natasha Larry

grasps her at the elbow and turns toward me.
    “Sadie will be okay. I can’t get you in to see her until tomorrow. Just…go back to the house.” She sounds tired. I’m with her.
    After killing enough men to define a massacre and enslaving a psycho, I’m drained. Soon, I’ll need someone else. But for now, Sadie is safe. I force myself to focus on that. I try not to think of what punishment I’ll endure for enslaving Juliet. Not that I did it on purpose, she was just in the line of fire. I wonder if they even knew I could do it. It’s a gift, if you want to call it that, rare among sirens.
    I shake my head.
    At least she’s alive, which means we’ll be able to continue our mission, then maybe I can kill her. Slowly.
    Shaking myself out of a stupor, I notice that I’m alone. A fact that shouldn’t surprise me because I saw Juliet and Kiwi leave.
    I need rest.
    I trudge to the door and lean against it for a while. Then, when I work up the energy, I leave the main grounds and head back for the house.

Hours later, I catch a second wind and can’t sleep. I almost go find Tripp for more monster dro, but that would disrupt whatever mental gear I’ve shifted to.
    I seem to have reached some level of not giving a crap that feels important. It feels like survival, a concept that is becoming less and less likely by the minute.
    So, I don’t get high and trip balls. Instead, I go down to the basement of the Fox house and hit the gym.
    When most dudes get locked up, they come out more ripped than a mofo. My prison was a little different. I feel weak as hell. And I know I have to get my strength back.
    My mind shelves all of the crap: the fact that I got Sadie’s arm hacked off, and the general fucked-up-edness that is my life. I shelve it at the back of my head.
    Focusing on the burn in my muscles as I do bicep curls helps. Sweat drips down my face, stings my eyes. My pulse gallops. I set the weights down on either side of the bench. Then I lift up and settle face down onto the floor.
    I start my first set of push-ups. After the first thirty, I go on autopilot. I have no idea what number I’m on when I feel the urge. I really need to kill someone.
    Not only do I need it, I want it. Another thing I want is to feel some level of guilt about that. I suck in a loud breath and lower myself down to the mat, then turn my head.
    I listen to my heart sputter, let my eyes slide shut. Rolling over, I prepare for a few sets of crunches when a rush of movement passes through my vision. Hands behind my head, I turn left, toward the movement.
    I freeze, blinking up at an unfamiliar female. She waggles her fingers at me. I raise an eyebrow.
    “Pike Richards?” she asks.
    I push myself up straight and nod. “Who are you?” I ask as I stand up and head to the weight bench. Grabbing the towel, I wipe sweat from my face as I turn back to her.
    “My name is Valene. Your roommates said you’d be down here.” Her summery, hazel eyes take me in. “Juliet sent me.”
    Draping the towel over my shoulder, I lift my gaze to the ceiling. I wonder if Juliet sensed my mood through our new bond, or if she just has good timing.
    “What’s your last name?” I ask, sweeping my gaze back down to her face. Don’t want to make the same mistake twice.
    Confusion flickers across her face. She plants her hand on her hip and purses her lips.
    “Does it matter?”
    I chuckle. “Are you being intentionally glib?”
    She shrugs. I bend over to pick up a water bottle and take a swig as I lift back up. Her silence is a cue for me to explain myself.
    “If you’re here for the reason I think you are, then yes.” I fold my arms.
    She nods, bouncing her wavy, dull red hair over her shoulders. “Spencer.”
    “How old are you?”
    She huffs, then taps her foot. “What is this, a job interview?”
    We stare at each other. She’s the first to break rank with a smile. Her cheeks redden, which is nice. Makes me hungry for strawberries.
    But Valene will