Chapter 2 - THE SHATTERED SILENCE
Ava did not flinch. She did not pull away. Instead, she simply tilted her wrist, adjusting the center of gravity on the heavy silver tray just enough that a crystal pitcher of ice water tipped precariously over Frankie’s custom-tailored lap. She held his gaze. Liam watched from his elevated booth, translating the sharp, deliberate movement of her lips.
Let go, or you leave here looking like a child who couldn't find the restroom.
Frankie’s face flushed a violent, ugly purple. His grip tightened for a fraction of a second before self-preservation kicked in. He released her. Ava righted the pitcher seamlessly, offered a perfectly hollow smile, and turned away.
Liam felt a rare smirk touch his own mouth. But as Ava pivoted, Frankie muttered something foul under his breath and reached out to grab her shoulder.
Ava spun, slapping his hand away. Her lips parted.
"Don't touch me."
The world fractured.
Liam slammed his hands onto the mahogany table, knocking his bourbon glass to the floor. The crystal shattered, but he didn't feel the vibration through his boots. He felt something else. A sensation so foreign, so violently abrupt, it felt like an ice pick driven through his skull.
Sound.
It was a melodic, furious frequency that echoed not in his bones, but in his mind. It resonated in the empty chambers of his ears—a clear, ringing alto laced with steel. Don't touch me.
May you like
Liam gasped, his hands flying to his ears, his chest heaving. His bodyguards instantly surged forward, weapons half-drawn, scanning the room for a threat. Vincent’s men across the floor paused, hands hovering over their holsters.
Liam waved them off wildly. He couldn't breathe. The silence had returned, heavy and suffocating, but the ghost of the sound still vibrated in his nerves. He stared at Ava, who was now walking back toward the bar, completely unaware that she had just torn the fabric of his reality in half.
