Silenced by Natasha Larry Read Free Book Online

get on with the business of washing my ass. The soap is a bar of musky patchouli. I scrub myself down and squint through the stream of water, back at the number display.
    Forty-five.
    Forty-four.
    Forty-three.
    It takes me longer than it should to realize it’s a countdown. I rush through the rest of the scrub down so that my rationed water doesn’t run out before I can rinse. I decide to focus on the important shit, then stand under the showerhead and rinse the lather down the drain.
    The water snaps off almost as soon as I finish. I step out onto the rocky surface and glance around for a towel. There is a small drawer next to the door leading back to the bedroom. I rush toward the drawer and yank it open.
    Piles of towels are folded up inside. I yank one from the top and pat myself dry. I wrap the towel around my waist as I head back to my room.
    No, not mine.
    I can’t turn this into a home.
    I pull on the coveralls still piled on the bed and finish dressing. I match all the other residents of Compound Six. Damn, I miss my old threads. As I slip on the matching boots. Movement echoes below me.
    Furniture bangs. Things slam shut. Muffled voices pulse up through the floor. I head for the bedroom door and stick my head out. I’m staring down a long hallway that leads to a set of stairs on my right.
    More low murmurs float up to me. I creep down the hall. The closer I get to the stairs, the easier it is to make out the voices. It’s two people, a dude and a female. I press my back to the railing and slide down the stairs. I focus on their energy and try to get a taste for what they are.
    I can tell they’re both like me. My feet hit the bottom step and I crouch down like I’m on a secret ninja mission. No idea why I’m sneaking around, but I go with it.
    I test their energy again. After several moments, I can tell neither are Muses. They’re the easiest for me to feel because I’m one of them. That leaves Spirits and beasties, or for the PC minded, Shifters. Me, I’m sticking with beasties.
    A feminine laugh rings out, then the clomp of footsteps closes in on me. I rush to stand up straight as the skinniest white boy I’ve ever seen in my life rounds the corner.
    He eyes me with interest, and I give him a head nod. Then, he shuffles toward me and rests his skeletal hand on the ball of the bottom railing.
    “Pike?” His beady brown eyes widen, and he leans in toward me like he knows me like that. “The Pike Richards?” His face flushes a tomato red that travels to his Dumbo-like ears. He extends his hand toward me. “Been waiting a long time to meet you!”
    Discomfort floods through me, but I manage to offer my hand. He grabs it and pulls me into an embrace.
    Awkward.
    He’s stronger than his shoestring physique lets on. I stare over his bony shoulder, trying to back away. No dice. “Uh… Okay.”
    With a loud chuckle, he pulls away and grips my shoulders. He grins down at me like he’s on that good shit. I reach for his hand and try to pry him off. It’s like trying to lift a boulder. I only manage to raise his hand a few inches.
    He laughs again. “Names Tripp Mason.” He jerks me out into the hall, and swings me around a corner and into what looks like a living room.
    How does this place have steroids?
    Gripping me around the shoulder, he points to a girl seated on a maroon couch. “Meet the other member of the warrior’s three.”
    “The what?”
    He pounds me on the back and I go flying into the middle of the room. I scramble to keep my balance. My jaw clenches. Someone needs to learn a personal space lesson. Before I can say so, he’s beside me, pointing again.
    “This is Kiwi Grunder.”
    I glance back over at her and my jaw sinks to the floor.
    Dayum,
    This girl is fine as hell. The stripper name suits her because, dayum. She glances up and regards me with a neutral expression.
    “Hm.” She folds her arms over her award-winning chest and raises her thin eyebrow. “So you’re