Silva

Chapter Thirty-Two

• Silva •

—

I brush the smooth contour of her cheeks; my touch traces the softness like an avid artist as the vulnerable silence lingers in her sleeping body.

It's easy to convince myself that I have Irisa, and I did at one point—which, until recently, doubts begin to lay roots of paranoia in my head.

I've decided to let her have free rein, but what she knows and what I know are two completely different things.

The plane rocks unsteadily through the turbulences before the wheels bounce on the runway. Our trip to Norway ends once the plane comes to a stop, but the peacefulness stays as Irisa mumbles softly.

She shifts and buries her face on my arm, breathing gently and ignoring the raging storm outside. It's pitch-black as white bouts of belligerent snow smacks on the glass. The dense clouds cluster together in a mass of gray that wouldn't move despite the strong wind.

This is categorized as a blizzard now.

"Boss," Ivo says, quiet and vigilant.

His eyes flick to Irisa and pause a long second before presenting me with a satellite phone. I take the bulky device and dismiss him; Ivo moves to the front of the plane and sits by the door.

Irisa shifts again, and I take her head off my shoulder. Her head bobs while I secure her slumped body to not touch the cold window.

The blinking light on the tower catches my attention, and for safety, I close the window shade. I answer the call while pulling up the blanket to her chin.

The man on the other line laughs.

"Holy fuck, you answered." Decaying Sable's leader crackles.

I reply to his unnecessary commentary with silence. He groans, muttering about my lack of greeting and how I need to stop holding on to grudges.

"Y'know," he begins with smacking lips, "Sometimes my guys come to us with weird fetishes, but he needs his bones to be useful to us."

I let that man, that deplorable serial killer, go with a broken clavicle and a limp, but he was alive. That's his warning to keep away from my Irisa, and I don't care if he's a member of Decaying Sable.

I can take on that group of lunatics and wipe away their existences.

They lack in manpower, but they don't lose in insanity. Few can have their level of brutality and can stomach what they do.

Therefore, they are what I need for the pending disaster. Irisa has her own nightmares to deal with, but I can make it easier for her.

She needs me for this.

"You have a day to return him," I reckon over the satellite phone.

"Return?" the man mutters, "He doesn't have a receipt."

He interrupts before I could get a word in, "Before you go gun-blazing and kidnap him again or take another collarbone from others, let's call it even."

"You're in no position to demand terms," I warn as my eyes wander to Irisa.

She's too short to be seen from the seat, but the overhead light shines her shadow on the side of the plane.

"I was thinking of a little quid pro quo," he insists. "I fucked up your guns, you added to your bone collection—an eye for an eye completion."