Chapter 48 - Silence Between Them
1259 Words
The car moved smoothly through the evening traffic.
Outside the window the city passed in long ribbons of lights, storefronts, pedestrians, and the steady stream of other vehicles moving through the streets.
Inside the car there was silence.
Florence sat beside the window, her hands folded in her lap. Her gaze followed the passing lights outside, though it was clear she was not truly watching them.
Anthony sat beside her.
Across the front seats, Sam drove.
The quiet had lasted long enough that even the engine seemed to hum more carefully, as if aware that something fragile existed inside the vehicle.
Sam glanced into the rearview mirror again.
And again.
Anthony noticed.
Sam had been doing that for several minutes now.
Not openly.
Not intrusively.
But enough to show he was curious.
Anthony understood why.
The scene in the library had been… unusual.
Anthony himself was still processing it.
He leaned slightly back against the seat and exhaled slowly.
His eyes moved toward the window briefly before returning to Florence.
She still hadn’t spoken.
Not since they had left the university.
The moment replayed in his mind.
The dean.
The check.
His own careless remark.
It had been meant almost as humor.
But Florence had reacted instantly.
She had walked out of the library with sharp anger flashing across her face.
For a moment Anthony had been almost surprised by the force of it.
Florence rarely showed anger.
In fact, most of the time she carried herself with a strange calm.
Controlled.
Quiet.
As if she had spent years learning how not to react to anything.
Which made that sudden flash of emotion even more striking.
Anthony shifted slightly in his seat.
He knew what had happened.
His words had insulted the dean.
The old man had clearly been important to her.
Anthony rubbed his thumb slowly against his knuckles.
The realization sat uncomfortably in his chest.
Florence had defended the dean immediately.
Without hesitation.
Without calculation.
As if protecting him was instinct.
Anthony glanced toward Sam.
Sam met his eyes briefly in the mirror.
Anthony raised an eyebrow slightly.
Sam shook his head.
Very subtly.
He had no intention of stepping into this conversation.
Anthony almost smiled.
Of course he didn’t.
Sam was loyal.
But he was also smart enough to know when a situation belonged to someone else.
Anthony looked back toward Florence.
For a moment he considered remaining silent.
But the thought sat poorly with him.
He cleared his throat slightly.
“I was wrong.”
Florence turned her head slowly toward him.
Her expression was calm.
Not defensive.
Not angry.
Just attentive.
Anthony continued.
“I should not have said that in front of the dean.”
Florence watched him quietly.
Then she spoke.
“He gave me that job.”
Anthony listened.
“He protected me,” she continued softly.
“As much as he could.”
Her fingers moved slightly together in her lap.
“And he paid me a little more than he was supposed to.”
Anthony tilted his head slightly.
“More?”
Florence nodded.
“So that things would be easier for me.”
Anthony leaned back slightly.
The picture forming in his mind was very different from the one he had imagined.
The dean had not been exploiting her.
He had been helping her.
And Anthony had insulted him.
Florence’s voice remained gentle.
“He didn’t deserve those words.”
Anthony studied her carefully.
The sincerity in her tone was unmistakable.
“You worked for that salary willingly.”
Florence shrugged lightly.
“It was enough.”
Anthony frowned slightly.
“Enough?”
She nodded.
“It covered what I needed.”
Anthony waited.
Florence lowered her eyes briefly to her hands.
“Clothes.”
She paused.
“Books.”
Anthony nodded slowly.
That made sense.
Florence had always shown an unusual interest in books.
He had seen it in the library.
The way she handled them.
The care in her movements.
But Florence hesitated again.
Anthony noticed immediately.
“And?”
Florence inhaled slowly.
Then she closed her eyes briefly.
“And… pastries.”
The word came out quickly.
Almost defensively.
“As in…”
Anthony asked carefully.
Florence spoke faster now.
“There’s a small grocery shop near the house.”
Her cheeks colored slightly.
“They sell cream pastries.”
Anthony blinked once.
Florence continued, almost rushing through the words.
“Sometimes I bought them.”
She opened her eyes again.
“And they were very good.”
The car fell silent again.
Sam shook his head faintly.
Anthony said nothing for several seconds.
Then he turned his head toward the window.
Outside, the city lights continued passing by.
But Anthony wasn’t seeing them.
His thoughts had moved somewhere else.
Florence had been afraid to admit that.
Pastries.
Sweets.
Something so simple.
So harmless.
Yet she had said it like someone confessing a dangerous secret.
Anthony slowly exhaled.
His mind began assembling pieces of the past few weeks.
Florence’s reactions.
Her careful manners.
The way she spoke.
The way she avoided drawing attention to herself.
The way she always seemed slightly… cautious.
As if waiting for something bad to happen.
Anthony felt a slow tightening in his chest.
He had seen wolves abused before.
He had seen humans treated poorly.
But Florence’s behavior suggested something more subtle.
Not open violence.
Something quieter.
Something that changed how a person saw themselves.
Anthony glanced at her again.
Florence had returned her gaze to the window.
Her reflection moved faintly in the glass.
She looked peaceful.
But Anthony now saw the details he had missed before.
The careful posture.
The controlled breathing.
The way she rarely took up space.
Even sitting beside him she seemed to make herself smaller.
Anthony spoke again.
“You hid the pastries.”
Florence looked at him.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
She hesitated.
Then she smiled faintly.
“It seemed unnecessary to tell anyone.”
Anthony watched her carefully.
“That isn’t the same as hiding them.”
Florence looked down again.
“Sometimes,” she admitted quietly, “people notice things.”
Anthony waited.
“They ask questions.”
“What kind of questions?”
Florence shrugged slightly.
“Why I bought them.”
Anthony’s voice softened.
“And?”
Florence answered simply.
“They would say it was wasteful.”
Anthony felt anger stir quietly inside him.
Wasteful.
For a pastry.
For a girl who had been working and studying at the same time.
Anthony looked back out the window.
His mind returned again to Kevin.
To the way Kevin had grabbed her wrist.
To the hatred in his voice.
To the contempt.
Anthony’s jaw tightened.
Sam glanced at him again in the mirror.
He recognized that expression.
Anthony rarely showed anger openly.
But when he did—
It meant someone had made a serious mistake.
Florence spoke again softly.
“The pastries were good.”
Anthony looked back at her.
She smiled slightly.
“They had cream inside.”
Anthony nodded.
“I gathered that.”
Florence laughed quietly.
The sound surprised both of them.
For a moment the tension in the car eased.
Anthony leaned his head slightly back against the seat.
But his mind continued working.
Florence had lived in Kevin’s pack for years.
Years.
And she had been afraid to admit buying sweets.
Anthony’s gaze moved again to the passing lights outside.
What had she lived through there?
What had happened inside that pack?
And more importantly—
What had Kevin been allowed to do?
- Writer
- chap_listContents
- likeADD