The Prisoner of Silk: 10. The Choice and Crown of Silk

The car rolled to a stop in the private garage beneath the tower. Silence pressed in, heavier than the gunfire had been.

He didn’t touch her. He didn’t drag her out, didn’t bark orders. He just sat there with his hands on the wheel, jaw tight, eyes fixed on some distant point she couldn’t see.

She stared at him, her body trembling from adrenaline and cold. Outside, the city had looked endless, but now she felt as if she were floating above it, untethered. She had been so sure she wanted to escape. She had imagined herself running barefoot through the streets, slipping into anonymity.

But the moment she’d stepped outside, she had felt it—the eyes. The hands. The danger.

He finally spoke, voice low and rough. “You think I’m the worst thing that’s ever happened to you.”

She swallowed. “Aren’t you?”

“No.” His knuckles whitened on the wheel. “I might be the only thing keeping you alive.”

Her throat burned. “You can’t keep saying that. You can’t j