Page 57 of Vows of Silence

The Flame

Days slipped by without Silas visiting.

At least, I assumed it was days. Time was slippery down here and hard to measure, but I’d been here long enough to recognise routine—and unfortunately, my routine relied on Silas’s presence.

However, even without him visiting, he still made sure I was cared for. Twice a day, a guard brought me food. I was assuming since Rafael knew about me now, so did the rest of Falcone House.

Sometimes I’d feel bitter about this, thinking Silas must love not having to babysit me. It must have freed up so much of his time knowing he was now able to palm me off on whatever guard happened to be available.

Other times I felt sorry for him. I was the only thing that belonged solely to him—even if it wasn’t by choice—and now he had to share me.

I wasn’t sure what made me think that way, but my instinct where he was concerned hadn’t failed me yet.

As far as Silas was concerned, I belonged to him. And if I was forced to answer, I would simply say to look at the evidence—he had cameras on me all the time. He spent his free time with me. He kept me locked away where no one could so much as look at me without his permission. He cared for me, clothed me, made sure I was fed and watered. I was like his own little pet.

Men like Silas didn’t go to these lengths for someone they weren’t possessive over. Even Luca had never gone to these lengths. He’d wanted to own me, but still allowed me my freedom.

Whenever the guards brought my meals, they were careful not to look at me. They were almost robotic in their system.

Door open, door locked. Cross the room, put food and clothes on the table. Leave the room. Don’t look at the prisoner and certainly don’t talk to her.

I didn’t mind. I had no interest in talking to them either.

The first day, the guard was on his own. I was wary of him. I didn’t trust anyone associated with the Falcones. The second day, a maid accompanied him.

I assumed Silas had seen my discomfort on the cameras and made adjustments.

Which was weird, because why should he care about my safety? And yet everything he had done since I’d arrived had been about my comfort.

Pillows appeared where before it had been a cold, sterile bed. Fluffy blankets, slippers, dressing gowns, skincare, and even bath products.

There were flowers arriving with the maids, more books than I knew what to do with. I had makeup, hair products, a whole wardrobe of clothes.

For life locked away in a basement, it was quite luxurious.

I even had vitamins with every meal. He might have removed the sun from my life, but a girl’s gotta have her vitamin D.

So, it wasn’t a crazy assumption to think that Silas prioritised my comfort and happiness. But it did beg the question why.

It also made me wonder why he had disappeared.

For the first couple of days, it hadn’t bothered me that much. I’d been mildly curious, but only fleetingly. I had enough distractions down here now that I could leisurely pass the day away.

Day three was when I started to grow concerned. Both for me and him.

Was he hurt? Had something gone wrong? Had Adrien found out what he’d done? Had Rafael double-crossed him and informed my father?

And then the more concerning thought… had he grown tired of me?

Why that would be the thing I was most concerned about wasn’t a thought I’d decided to dissect. I just was.

Silas still terrified me. But it had shifted more to being terrified of how he would end this, and not terrified of simply his presence. His presence had actually grown into something familiar. Something I could rely on. And whilst the logical part of me told me that every hour without him should feel like freedom, the emotional, hormonal part of me missed him.

Or maybe it was just the routine I missed.

Either way, something was broken, and it was making my skin itch.

Humans could adapt scarily quickly. And just as I had adapted to Luca in my life, I was adapting just as easily to Silas. And deep down, I realised that was fucked up. I realised I shouldn’twantthe company of my captor. But I also shouldn’t have been having phone sex with a man whose face I had neverseen and who had contacted me anonymously the night my uncle was murdered.