Bound in Silence

Chapter Twenty-three

He looked hesitant, frozen for a moment.

And then—

"Don't stop."

The voice sliced through the room like a blade.

I snapped my head toward it.

Jasper.

He was standing in the corner, one shoulder against the wall, shadowed by the dim light. His eyes were locked on me, hard, cold, unreadable. That crooked smile wasn't there now. Just... something worse.

He started moving toward the bed—slow, deliberate.

"No—no, no, please, Jasper—" I tried to pull back, but the cuffs only let me move inches. Not enough. Never enough.

He didn't care.

His eyes flicked to Patrick. "Don't stop," he said again, sharper this time. Like a command. Like a threat.

Patrick's mouth opened, but he didn't speak. Just looked back down, ashamed.

Then Jasper's gaze dropped to me.

His hand reached out and brushed my cheek.

I flinched hard, recoiling as far as I could—wrist burning from the pull—but it was useless. I was trapped.

"Shhh," he whispered. "It's okay."

I shook my head, chest heaving. "Don't  touch me," I choked. "Please, Jasper, don't—don't let him—"

Like always he ignores me completely.

He looked down at me, studying me like I was something small. Fragile. Breakable. Already broken.

I turned my face away from his hand.

Still, he touched me.

His fingers tangled gently in my hair, and I couldn't stop the sob that burst from my throat. My whole body trembled beneath him.

"Behave," he murmured. "It'll all be over soon."

I wince, jerking in pain as it shoots through me—sharp, like a jagged line of fire, spreading from my core and ripping through every part of me. It radiates, a burning wave that doesn't stop. I hiss, feeling it in my chest, my limbs—my entire body jolts with it.

Jasper's at my side, brushing a hand over my head.

"Be fucking careful!" he snaps at Patrick.

"I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry, you didn't give me much time to figure this out properly." Patrick mumbles.

"Be careful," Jasper mutters again, more steady this time.

I lie there, breath shaky, the pain still echoing in my bones. Jasper's phone rings in the back. He grabs my chin, forcing me to look at him. I'm lying on the bed. Our eyes meet.

"I'll be back. Don't cause any more trouble. Don't test me," he warns, his voice low, commanding, possessive in a way that sends a shiver through me. His words hang in the air, suffocating and heavy, and the fear claws at my chest as he turns, walking away from the bed.

He picks up his phone from the nightstand, his fingers brushing over the screen with a practiced ease. Without another glance in my direction, he strides toward the door, his footsteps echoing in the silence of the room.

As he reaches the door, I hear him swipe the phone, answering it with a sharp, "What?" His voice, already low, dips even further into a threatening tone as he turns the handle.

Then, he slams the door behind him. The sound is sharp, final, as though he's leaving me trapped, isolated, a prisoner of the silence that fills the room. The echo of the door slamming reverberates in my mind long after he's gone, a reminder of how little control I have.