🔍 Silver Tongue (Slow Updates) 🔎

When the Bullets Stop Flying...That's When the Shit Hits the Fan

It was suddenly so eerily quiet in the hacienda that I wished the bullets were still going. It had become background noise, almost normal, but without it, I was lost.

Ivan could be lying dead or dying on the kitchen floor. And I might be next.

There's nothing like death staring you in the face to make you question your life choices. Like, if I'd forgiven Brad for all the lying, cheating and bullshit, I would have been around when he and Ivan hatched this stupid idea of becoming semi-spies...and I could have talked them out of it.

It didn't matter now. The way the doctor's eyes flitted from Patience to Charity and me, he was calculating his chances and coming up with the same crappy odds.

Charity's gun clicked near my head. "Last chance."

The doctor gritted his teeth, then flicked the safety on his gun and handed it to Patience. His shoulders deflated and folded into himself so tightly, he seemed half the man he had been seconds ago. Patience tucked it into his waistband, then slid his own into its holster. Then he reached back and decked the doctor in the face, sending him to the ground in a heap.

"Go on, little Bachelorette," Charity said, pushing me forward with her hand. "Let's get you back to headquarters. Looks like bachelor number three didn't pan out, did he? You should be more careful with those roses."

"I hate you," I said. "And you, Patience..."

Patience looked away, unwilling to meet my eyes.

I took one step, then another, my legs leaden. That was it. The end of Emily-.

A gunshot snapped me out of my reverie.

I flinched, wondering if Charity had finally pulled the trigger. I mean I didn't feel like I'd been shot, but I'd never been shot before. It did seem like one of those things you noticed, though.

When Patience stumbled to the car, I gasped. He clutched his shoulder and dropped to the ground, his breath ragged.

"The next one I put in Temperance," Ivan said.

It sounded so badass that in that moment, I stopped being Ivan's sister and was a Silver Tongue fangirl for the next few seconds. It suddenly clicked as to how Silver Tongue had amassed such a cult of followers. I'd always thought of him as my brother and know he was totally capable of everything he said he'd done. But I'd only thought of him as Ivan, the guy who had wet the bed until he was thirteen and played too much Battle toads on the Nintendo. But now, I got it.

I wanted to turn around, but Charity's gun felt so close, I wasn't sure if any sudden movements would trigger it.

"We both know you're not going to shoot Emily," Ivan said.

I wasn't as confident, but I wasn't going to correct him.

"You can't possibly know that," Charity said.

"Of course, I do," Ivan said. "You're a grifter, Charity. You're not a killer. Temperance, Patience? Sure, I wouldn't put it past them. But you? You wouldn't."

"How much are they paying you, Silver Tongue?" Charity asked. "I can't believe you shot Patience. He's your friend!"

"You kidnap my sister, put her in the crosshairs of some of the worst criminals we've ever seen and dare to call us friends?" Ivan said. He sighed. "It's over, Charity. Virtue is done."

Charity sniffled. "You can't do this, Silver Tongue."

"It's already done," Ivan said. "Emily, get Humility into the backseat."