The Silent Sounds of Chaos

by Kristina Circelli

  “Don’t say you haven’t thought about me,” the man rasped, shoving up against Finn, whose jaw clenched with disgust. “Don’t say you haven’t missed me. I know I’ve certainly missed you.”

  A hand fisted in Finn’s hair, yanking his head back and exposing his throat. He felt hot breath against his skin, the wet trail of a tongue below his ear. He could have fought, flung himself backward and tackled his opponent, but he didn’t. Instead he let DU believe himself the victor, as his hand stealthily lowered to his pocket, where he always kept pieces of wood and metal.

  One chance. One shot to end this nightmare once and for all. Don’t fuck it up, he ordered. Be a fucking bad-ass.

  Trembling fingers closed over the scrap metal, feeling jagged edges he hadn’t yet had a chance to smooth. Retracting his arm and making a fist, Finn gave himself only one second to allow his vision to tunnel, his senses to focus on the body behind him, the feel of breath and tongue and teeth, before he yanked his captured arm free and spun.

  The metal buried itself in DU’s throat. Blood spurted from the torn-open wound, but Finn didn’t stop. With a rage-induced scream covering all the years of his pain, he drove the metal in deeper, not feeling it slice his hand in his fury, spurred on by the gurgling pain erupting from his enemy.

  DU fell forward on top of Finn, whose arm shook with the strength to support his weight and shove the scrap steel farther. Beady black eyes stared down at him vacantly, the smallest sparks of life left in them, and thin lips parted to gape for final gasps of air.

  Never had Finn been filled with such grim and carnal satisfaction. It strengthened his arm, sending the metal through another layer. “Debts have to be paid,” he growled in DU’s ear, feeling hot blood sluice down his hand and arm.

  Only when the body stopped shuddering did Finn slide out from under it. For too long a moment all he could do was stare down at DU, thinking back to all the years he’d dreamed of seeing the man bleeding at his feet.

  “You took everything from me,” he muttered, unable to stop himself from kicking the body before reminding himself he had other places to be. Rushing to the bathroom, he stripped off his soiled shirt and wrapped it in a bag from the trash can, then did his best to wash the blood off his face, neck, and arms using one of the towels by the sink. Water splashed over the counter each time he rinsed the towel, running red down the drain so thick it threatened to stain the cheap porcelain.

  “Good enough,” he said to himself in the mirror, barely seeing the bruises starting to color his eye and jawline, or his ribs, or the light smears of blood still staining his chest. He threw on his leather jacket, then grabbed his blood-stained shirt and headed for the door, sparing DU one last look almost as an afterthought.

  “Maybe you’ll be useful after all.” Finn paused long enough to dig through DU’s pockets for his car keys and grab the gun holstered at the small of his back, momentarily surprised his mother’s former dealer didn’t try to use it on him, then he was out the door, making sure the scrap of steel was back in his pocket before pulling the locked door shut.

  The body would eventually be found. Cops would be called, forensics sent out for testing. Nothing he could do about it now. He had neither the time nor the skills to drag the body to the car, dump it, and somehow strip the room clean of all DNA and fingerprints. At least he had the murder weapon—he could dispose of it later, assuming the cops didn’t find him before he had the chance.

  As long as he got to Snow first, Finn didn’t care what happened to him after.

  It made him feel dirty, sitting in the driver’s seat of DU’s car, despite how pristine the interior appeared to be. DU had always been a neat freak—no matter how revolting his favorite pastimes. His skin felt like it was crawling as Finn started the engine and prepared to peel out, before realizing he had no idea where he was, let alone which direction to go.

  A quick pocket check revealed his phone was missing. “Shit,” Finn muttered, remembering tossing it to Joe and never getting it back. That had to be intentional. Joe seemed to think there was some big conspiracy against him, which was probably why he’d called DU, for backup.

  “And to get rid of me once and for all,” he continued his train of thought, reluctantly understanding why Joe had brought DU into it, even if he still didn’t know how Snow fit into the equation. Somehow, her father owed a debt to Joe or DU—or maybe even both.

  Just how far did Charlie’s reach go? And did he know about Snow?

  Loose ends. Joe had mentioned getting rid of loose ends. Finn could only imagine what that meant, who he intended to get rid of, but one fact was clear—he had to get to Iron Creek Estates.

  “Where the fuck am I?” he mumbled, turning in his seat and peering through the windows at license plates. A handful of Carolinas, and the majority listing Georgia. So Joe really had brought him across the state.

  The only problem—he was in the wrong state.

  Finn tore out of the parking lot, able to see the highway from the hotel. He’d already merged onto the northbound side when he realized just how far he had to go. All this time he thought Snow was in Georgia, believing the news anchors and police who offered mere best guesses. But she had revealed the truth about her location, and now Joe knew he knew as well.

  If he drove fast enough, maybe he could catch up to the man who was now his number one enemy. Catch up to him, and rip his throat out.

  The sound of the highway lulled Finn into thought—always one of the best times he’d ever been able to connect to Snow. Maybe it was the rushing of road beneath tires, or the steady passing of trees. Whatever allowed for an easier connection, he welcomed it, and focused on the faint feel of Snow’s consciousness within him.

  Snow? You still with me?

  An ominous quiet permeated the car, rising above the rushing.

  Snow? Come on, Snow. Come back to me.

  He waited, hands tightening on the wheel, hating the feel of this strange car, hating even more having to smell DU all around him. When this was all over, he was going to torch the fucker. With DU in it, if he had the opportunity.

  Finn?

  He nearly swerved off the road at the sudden burst of a soft, melodic voice in his head. His breath rushed out in relief. “Snow, thank god,” he said aloud, needing to hear her name spoken as though to make her presence that much realer.

  I’m coming, Snow. I’m on my way, I swear.

  Silence, for too long, before she replied, Just leave me.

  His brow furrowed. Shifting in the seat, Finn focused on feeling her, honing in on their heightened senses and strange ability to feel the other’s life. And when he finally did reach her, he was hit with such a shock of desolation and emptiness it nearly sucked the will to live right out of him.

  …Snow? Talk to me. Tell me what happened.

  He came … a debt … It hurts, Finn. It won’t stop.

  She sounded drunk, maybe even high, but what scared him most was the resignation in her voice. He didn’t need to ask again to know what happened. This feeling of emptiness, a silently screaming wish to let go and break into millions of tiny pieces too small and fragmented to ever hurt again … It was devastatingly familiar.

  And he’d let it happen. He didn’t figure it out in time, where she was, who had her. Destiny had given him this gift to hear her thoughts and feel all her wonderful emotions, and he took it for granted, never pushing to discover her true identity and bring her into his safe and protective arms.

  Now she was refusing their gift. He could feel her trying to sever the connection, not wanting him to see inside her torture. But he wouldn’t let her, not when she needed him most. Some might say she’d only been in captivity a few days, but he knew there was no such thing as only when it came to her abductors. There was constant, unrelenting, unforgiving pain, and the knowledge that the future would hold only shameful memories.

  Snow, I know it hurts and I know you’re scared, but you have to hold on for me, okay? His tone was full of fear,
threatening to break even in thought.

  It seemed ten miles passed before she replied, Why? … What’s there to hold on to?

  Me, was his immediate answer. Hold on to me, Snow. Our friendship. Hold on to us.

  I don’t … want a life like this.

  “Stop it,” Finn whispered, a plea to whatever god might be listening to take away her hurt and let her be in peace. She was too good, too kind. “Make it happen to me. Not her.”

  But to Snow he said, You have to fight. You have to be brave.

  He heard a sigh in his mind, felt the indifference of a girl giving up. Sometimes being brave means letting go … even when that’s the hardest thing to do.

  That’s bullshit and you know it. His response was clipped and tinged with fear. Part of him hoped his hastily snapped reply would break her out of the fog, but deep down he knew that wasn’t the way to reach her. So, he tried again. Snow, pain goes away, okay? You have to fight. Fight for me. Don’t give up on me.

  It hurts. She was whimpering now, tears lacing her words. I don’t want to live through this.

  “Goddamn it, Snow, don’t do this to me!” He shouted the words at the same time he thought them. Foot pressing harder, he floored it down the highway, his only thought now on getting to Iron Creek Estates.

  She heard his demand, the urgency in his voice, the fear he held that she wouldn’t be there when he finally arrived. But, she didn’t care. Her new reality was too overwhelming.

  Her mouth and nose were crusted over with dried blood, bottom lip and jaw so enflamed she could barely open her mouth. She suspected her nose was broken, and maybe her cheekbone, judging by the stabs of pain radiating down the right side of her face. One eye was swollen shut, the other blurry. Snow didn’t remember what happened to them. There were so many punches and slaps, and a belt, with a cold metal buckle … She stopped counting after the first thirty strikes.

  Her back felt like it was burning, the fire starting from a hole in her shoulder made from a cigar pressed against bare skin. All over her skin the pain crawled, sliding into her ribs, hammering into her forehead, cramping in her hands and toes as she shivered.

  And she was hungry. So hungry. Her captors hadn’t given her anything to eat or drink, let alone anywhere to wash herself. For who knew how many days she lay in her own blood and sweat and filth. The shame of it all ripped her soul apart.

  And then there was Finn, asking what they did to her. Unspeakable things. Things she couldn’t say, would never be able to say. Not out loud, not in her head to her best friend. She would never stop feeling them. There was no escape from the horrors this room had seen.

  Snow, pain goes away, okay?

  “It will never go away,” she whispered, curling into a ball on her side and wincing at the red-hot poker jabbing in her ribs. Her back prickled with goosebumps where her shirt was torn and hanging down one shoulder.

  Fight for me.

  “I’m too tired to fight.” The words were spoken into bare legs as she buried her head in her knees. The floor beneath her reeked of sin and shame.

  Don’t give up on me.

  It hurt. Everywhere, outside, inside. Nothing could heal these scars. I don’t want to live through this. She wasn’t sure if the words were spoken or thought, and decided she didn’t care. Snow meant what she said. There was no chance of going back. Even if Finn did save her, how could she return home knowing this was her father’s fault? Worse, having no idea what he’d done to owe a debt, but knowing he didn’t try to save her? And how could she go back to her life remembering what had been done to her?

  Finn’s voice jolted her back to the present. Goddamn it, Snow, don’t do this to me!

  It was already done.

  HE COULDN’T HEAR her anymore. The buzz of Snow’s voice even when not speaking had gone too quiet, spurring Finn to drive faster, pushing his body to its limits. Snatches of sleep in gas station parking lots preceded energy drink chugs and fast food. Speed limits were mere guidelines, eyes on the lookout for cops. And only when his body absolutely demanded it did he go against better judgment and give in to sleep.

  And yet, still he felt he was always one step behind Joe.

  The road stretched out before him, one long tunnel of asphalt and trees. In the dead of night, everything blurred together as the world became awash in white spots and black shadow, surrounding the stolen car in a black wave threatening to suck him under.

  “Keep it together,” Finn ordered himself, wiping a hand down his face and shaking his head. Grabbing another energy drink from the passenger seat, he gulped it down in a few long swallows. The can joined the others on the floorboard in the backseat. The fabricated energy buzzed through him—the crash would come, but only when he allowed it.

  At some point night faded into dawn and Finn found himself squinting into a brilliant orange sun. It lit the path before him, guiding him until he saw the sign for his exit just a few miles up the road. His foot pressed harder, tires barely gaining traction as he sped off the highway and finally down a local road.

  He could feel her, a palpable string drawing him forward. Even in dawn’s early light he saw his surroundings crystal clear, led forward by fate’s cold hand connecting him to Snow’s resting place. The map formed in his mind effortlessly; he didn’t question it, following the route predetermined for him.

  And then he saw it, the faded yellow sign with Iron Creek Estates sprawled in swirling black letters above a picture of a river winding through the forest. A pretty picture masking the darkness within. Finn eyed the sign as he entered the neighborhood, hating it and everything it stood for, before searching for his Mustang.

  It didn’t take long to find. Joe wasn’t hiding—not that he had to. Not here, not anymore.

  Finn all but skidded into the driveway, leaving the car at an angle as he scoped out the scene. The street was quiet in the early morning, mobile homes spaced out on plots of land marked by broken-down vehicles and wood-post fences. All seemed at peace, but Finn knew what lurked on the other side of drawn curtains—neighbors who saw everything, even if they kept it all to themselves.

  Gun in hand, Finn slid out of the car, not bothering to shut the door. He didn’t care if everyone knew he was just outside or if anyone stole the vehicle. There was only one person on his list, and no one would stand in his way. His mind raced with one word—Joe—as heavy footsteps pounded up the cracked-paver walk, atop three rickety stairs.

  The door to the trailer was shut, but only for a second before Finn’s foot connected with the handle, cracking the entire frame as the door flew open, slamming into the wall with a resounding crash. He stomped inside, the odor of sweat and mold filling his nostrils—and the hint of something else. An underlying copper stench that could only be attributed to one thing.

  One foot crossed the threshold, then another, his body slipping inside and sliding against the wall as he edged his way along. Not a sound was heard save for his own quiet breaths and beating heart. But he knew they were in there. He could feel another body, living, breathing.

  Waiting.

  Finn rounded the corner, gun aimed at nothing but ready. He wouldn’t think about the fact that he didn’t really know how to use it, about how foreign DU’s revolver felt in his hand—he was used to Charlie’s Berettas, and even rifles—about how he’d never actually had to fire a weapon. What mattered was he found the person the bullet was meant for.

  He saw the edge a kitchen cabinet, yellow wood splattered with red. Bile rising in his throat, Finn tightened his grip on the gun and advanced, stumbling when he took just two steps and caught sight of the object laying across the entrance to the kitchen.

  His eyes narrowed as he focused on what he was seeing. They widened when he realized what it was—a hand, leading to a body he couldn’t see on the other side of the wall. Sucking in a breath, Finn rounded the corner, ready to attack and let loose a flurry of bullets, but the room, a filthy kitchen cluttered with dirty dishes, was empty.

  Ex
cept for the woman lying lifeless on the floor.

  A quick scout of the room confirmed it was clear. Finn shuffled in, stepping carefully around the body. It wasn’t Snow. He couldn’t see her face, but still he knew; he could feel it. Kneeling, Finn pushed the woman onto her back and took in her face. She was older, gaunt and cold, with matted hair and bloodshot eyes staring vacantly at the ceiling. A wound slashed across her throat seeped blood.

  He hoped her death had been quick and painless, something she never saw coming. It surprised him to feel such mercy—and blamed it on this being the first murdered woman he’d ever seen. Not his first dead body, there were plenty of junkie overdoses over the years, but none of them ever had their throats split wide open.

  “Loose ends.”

  Joe’s voice from the doorway had Finn looking up slowly, gun at the ready. The older, far stronger man was leaning against frame, arms crossed, stance too casual for the crime splayed out before him. Finn didn’t see a gun or knife on him, but knew there had to be one or both tucked away somewhere.

  The body was a buffer between them. Blood slowly spread from beneath the woman, toward Finn’s boot-clad feet. He took a step back before asking, “Why her?”

  Joe spared the woman a passing glance. “She knew too much.”

  “Did…” The words stuck in his throat; he forced them out. “Did Charlie order this? Did he order you to take Snow?”

  “Charlie?” Joe chuckled and shook his head. “Charlie is an old fuckin’ man who ain’t got it in him to rule anymore. I’m done following Charlie’s orders.”

  “Then … why?”

  “Why?” Pushing off the doorway, Joe straightened to his full height, his glare bearing down on the younger boy with the weight of many years’ pain. “Only four people know what went down that night. Since you’re here, I can only assume ‘ole DU is out of the equation. I’d be impressed if I actually liked you, kid.” His eyes narrowed, looking down at the woman before returning to Finn. “This broad here cuts down the witnesses to two. That leaves me and you.”