Chapter 54: Poisonous Tokens 2
Noah’s POV
Micah was sitting silently in the passenger seat. He was huddled inward, his knees pulled tight together, holding his heavy leather bag on his lap like a shield.
The second I slammed the car door shut, Micah flinched so violently his whole frame shuddered.
"Fasten your seatbelt," I ordered, my voice harsh and clipped as I shoved the key into the ignition and brought the engine to a roaring start.
Micah didn’t hesitate for a single second. With trembling hands, he frantically pulled the strap across his chest and clicked the belt into place, his eyes glued firmly to his own lap.
I threw the car into gear, stomped on the gas pedal, and peeled out of the Silver estate, the tires screeching loudly against the gravel as we blasted out onto the main road.
The entire drive home was suffocatingly, painfully silent.
Throughout the entire twenty-minute trip, Micah didn’t look at me once. Not even a single sideways glance. He kept his head pressed almost flat against the cool glass of the passenger window, staring blankly out at the passing streetlights and dark trees as if his life depended on it. He was holding himself so rigid, breathing so shallowly, as if he genuinely believed that if our eyes met for even a fraction of a second, I would turn around and devour him whole.
A heavy, suffocating weight settled on my chest.
’Didn’t he know?’ I thought, my knuckles turning bone-white as I gripped the leather steering wheel until my hands cramped. ’Didn’t he realize that every single terrifying, fucked-up thing I do... I do it entirely for him?’
Every threat I made, every bone I broke, every drop of blood I spilled was done to erect a wall around him. To keep him safe from monsters like our cold, manipulative father, who viewed us as nothing more than political chess pieces... and to keep him safe from predators like Damon Silver, who only wanted to corrupt his pure, fragile soul. Micah looked at me like I was a nightmare, like I was a monster waiting in the dark to tear him apart, completely blind to the fact that I was the only thing standing between him and absolute destruction.
I let out a low, tired sigh as I finally pulled the car into the long driveway of our family estate.
I scanned the dark front lawn. Our father’s sleek black Mercedes wasn’t anywhere in sight. The garage was dark. He wasn’t back yet. Good. That gave us time.
I cut the engine, the sudden silence inside the vehicle feeling heavier than the engine’s roar.
"Thanks, Noah," Micah whispered softly, his voice trembling so faintly it was almost lost in the dark.
He unfastened his seatbelt quickly, reaching his hand out to grab the interior door handle. He pulled it, expecting it to swing open, but the mechanism clicked uselessly. The door was locked tight.
He pulled it again, panic creeping into his posture as he realized he was trapped inside the dark cabin with me.
Slowly, hesitatingly, Micah turned his head to look at me. His bag was still clutched tightly against his stomach, his wide, tear-stained eyes reflecting the dim moonlight streaming through the windshield.
"Noah..." he whispered, his small voice shaking so badly my chest physically ached. "The door is..."
"Yeah, it’s locked," I interrupted, turning my head to stare straight into his terrified, beautiful eyes. "What do you think, Micah?"
Micah shrank back against the leather seat, his bottom lip trembling as he looked up at me like a cornered animal waiting for the fatal blow.
"Did I... did I do something wrong?" he asked softly.
Oh, Micah. A dark, bitter laugh almost escaped my throat. You’ve done a million and one things wrong.
He had walked straight into the lion’s den. He had let another man touch his body, let another man put his mouth on him, let himself be defiled and manipulated right under my nose. He had broken every rule of self-preservation I had tried to drill into his head. I wanted to shake him. I wanted to yell at him until my lungs gave out. I wanted to scream at him to see just how fragile he really was in this ruthless world.
Violence was the only language our father had ever taught me indirectly. It was the only language I knew how to use when dealing with the scum of the earth. But as I looked at Micah—at his flushed cheeks, his swollen, bitten neck, and his wide, teary eyes—I knew I could never lift a single finger against him. I would rather cut my own hands off before I ever truly laid a violent hand on my brother.
Just as I opened my mouth to speak, the sharp, harsh vibration of my phone buzzed violently in my suit pocket, shattering the heavy tension inside the car.
I reached into my pocket and pulled it out, glancing at the glowing screen.
The caller ID displayed a private, encrypted number.
My expression darkened instantly. The slight soft warmth in my chest vanished, replaced by a cold, icy focus as my eyebrows dragged down into a heavy scowl.
Fuck. He was calling.
"Noah?" Micah murmured softly, watching the sudden, terrifying shift in my face.
"Head inside," I said, my tone flat and emotionless as my finger hit the central locking switch, popping the door locks open with a sharp clack. "I’ll go check on something real quick and return."
"O-okay," Micah stammered out. He didn’t ask questions. He didn’t hesitate. He grabbed his heavy bag, pushed the door open, and stepped out, stumbling slightly as he made his way toward the front porch.
I didn’t wait to see if he made it safely inside the front door. I put the car back into gear, slammed my foot onto the gas pedal, and sped out of the driveway, tearing back onto the main road.
Once I was a mile down the road, I swiped the screen to answer the call, pressing the loudspeaker button and tossing the phone onto the empty passenger seat.
"Yes?" I barked out into the dark cabin.
"Young master," a low, gravelly voice crackled through the car speakers. "We’ve finally found out what the ’Plan Mayor’ is really about."
My jaw set firmly, my grip tightening on the steering wheel until my knuckles cracked.
"Good," I said, my voice dripping cold and ruthless. "I’ll be there in five minutes."
"Yes, young master," the informant replied before the line went completely dead.
I stared out at theempty highway stretching ahead of me, a dark, lethal smile slowly spreading across my face.
Whatever twisted, corrupted game my father and his inner circle were orchestrating with this secret ’Plan Mayor’ project, I was going to find out every single detail. And then, piece by piece, I was going to dismantle it. I would burn down his reputation, ruin his operation, and crush every single person involved in it... starting with the monster who called himself our father.