Chapter 142: Silence on the Line

Micah’s POV

"Relax, I didn’t kidnap you," Damon said, not even taking his eyes off the dark road. "Noah asked me to take you to the Silver estate."

I stared at him, my heart still racing against my ribs. "Why would Noah do that? He threatened to break your legs just yesterday for looking at me! He hates you being anywhere near me!"

"Well, your psycho brother hates a lot of things, sweetheart, but apparently leaving you alone tonight scared him a lot more than leaving you with me," Damon replied casually, steering the car around a wide bend.

I didn’t want to believe him. Every instinct in my body screamed that Damon was playing another one of his twisted, unpredictable games. What if he had dragged me out of the arena while I was asleep just to mess with Noah? What if this was another one of his reckless stunts?

I stayed pressed against the passenger door, gripping Noah’s varsity jacket tightly around my shoulders, watching the road through the window.

My suspicion only began to fade when the sports car slowed down, turning between two massive wrought-iron gates that opened into a private driveway in Silver Estate. Ahead of us stood the Silver mansion. Standing right by the front steps in the freezing night air was an elderly woman wrapped in a thick wool shawl.

Damon pulled the car to a stop near the steps and killed the engine.

He unfastened his seatbelt, turning to unclick mine before I could even reach for the buckle.

"Your camera and your bags are in the back seat," Damon said, resting one hand on the steering wheel. "Don’t forget to grab them."

He pushed open his door and stepped out onto the gravel.

I sat completely frozen in the passenger seat, my fingers glued to Noah’s jacket. My mind was spinning with a million terrifying questions. If Noah had really sent me here, that meant whatever called him away was too dangerous for me to see. It meant Noah was facing something terrible all by himself.

Seeing that I hadn’t moved an inch, Damon paused outside. He leaned back into the car, resting his arms on the doorframe, bringing his face closer to mine.

"Are you worried about your brother?" he asked, his voice losing its usual cocky edge.

I swallowed hard and nodded. "Did something happen at the rink after I fell asleep? Was it you want me on a walk with your dog and the boys are so emotional to you too much for you too I guess you are you in a relationship or not that you have no reason why it doesn’t make related to our father?"

Damon leaned back against the car frame, folding his arms across his chest with a faint, wry smirk.

"Do you honestly think Noah would tell me a single detail about why he left?" Damon scoffed quietly. "The guy barely views me as human. He just threw your bags into my chest, told me to look after you, and threatened to murder me and burn my family’s house down if a single strand of your hair got hurt."

A quiet, breathless chuckle escaped my mouth before I could stop it.

That sounded exactly like Noah.

"See? That’s better," Damon said, reaching in to tap my shoulder gently. "It’s Noah, Micah. That guy is an absolute monster. Nothing in this city has the power to take him down. Now let’s get inside before the old woman freezes to death on the driveway and blames me for her funeral."

I nodded, feeling a tiny bit of the suffocating weight lift from my chest.

I pushed the door open, stepped out onto the cold stone, and reached into the back seat to haul out my camera bag and the thermal food container.

The moment Damon closed his door, the old nanny marched down the steps with her hands on her hips, her scowl fierce enough to cut glass.

THWACK!

She smacked Damon hard across the arm with her rolled-up knitting magazine.

"Ow! Old woman, stop!" Damon hissed, jumping back and rubbing his bicep. "What was that for?!"

"Past midnight!" Susan scolded him, glaring up at his face. "Past midnight on a school night, Damon! You are recovering from bruised ribs and a fever! Are you deliberately trying to give me a heart attack?!"

"I was at mandatory hockey practice!" Damon protested, throwing his hands in the air. "We have the championship finals tomorrow! You know Coach doesn’t let anyone leave early!"

Susan huffed, completely ignoring his excuses. She turned her head toward me, and in the span of a single second, the vicious scowl on her face vanished completely.

Her wrinkled features melted into a gentle, beaming, motherly smile, her eyes softening as if she hadn’t just assaulted her own master seconds ago.

"Welcome, my child," Susan said warmly, stepping over and gently resting a hand on my forearm. "You look so pale and exhausted. Look at those dark circles under your eyes. Come inside, let me lead you up to your room so you can sleep."

"Thank you, ma’am," I smiled softly, feeling a rare, comforting warmth in my chest. "I really appreciate it."

She turned and began guiding me toward the front doors, completely abandoning Damon, who trailed behind us grumbling curses under his breath about unfair treatment.

I already knew the layout of the upper floor. It was the exact same private guest suite I had stayed in before... the one that had an adjoining interior door connecting directly to Damon’s l bedroom.

When we reached the foot of the grand staircase, I stopped and turned to the elderly woman.

"You don’t have to walk all the way upstairs with me, Susan," I told her gently. "It’s late, and your knees must be tired from waiting outside. I know the way to the room. I can get there on my own."

Susan looked at me with touched eyes, patting my hand affectionately. "You are far too polite for this house, Micah. If you need anything at all....warm milk, extra blankets, anything, just use the house phone on the nightstand."

"I will. Goodnight, Susan."

"Goodnight, child."

I took the stairs two at a time, leaving Damon at the bottom talking to Susan about tomorrow’s schedule.

I pushed open the door to the guest room, stepped inside, and clicked it shut behind me.

The room was clean, warm, and dead silent. I set the heavy camera bag down on the luggage rack by the closet and placed the thermal food container on the small writing desk.

My heart began to hammer violently against my ribs again. The brief distraction of arriving at the Silver estate was gone, and the dark, gnawing anxiety rushed back into my head with twice the force.

I reached into my jacket pocket and pulled out my old, cracked smartphone. I unlocked the screen, pulled up my contacts, and pressed Noah’s name.

I brought the phone to my ear, holding my breath as the line connected.

Tuuuut... Tuuuut... Tuuuut...

The phone rang.

Tuuuut... Tuuuut...

It rang all the way to the end, until the automated robotic voice clicked on.

"The person you are trying to reach is unavailable. Please leave a message after the tone."

My stomach dropped. I hung up immediately, staring at the screen with wide, panicked eyes.

Noah never let his phone ring out to voicemail when I called. Never.

Even when he was in the middle of a brutal training session, even when he was in an important lecture, and even when he was arguing with our father, Noah always picked up on the second ring. At the very least, he would decline the call and instantly send back a brief text: Busy. Call you in five.

He had never once let the phone ring to the automated voice.

My fingers were trembling as I pressed the call button a second time.

Tuuuut... Tuuuut... Tuuuut...

Nothing. Just the empty, agonizing ringing echoing against my ear.

"The person you are trying to reach—"

I hung up and pressed call again.

Third time.

The line rang until the system disconnected it.

I tried a fourth time, clutching the phone against my ear so tightly that the plastic casing creaked in my palm. My breath was shallow and rapid, cold sweat breaking out across the back of my neck.

Still, no one picked up.

"Pick up, Noah... please, just pick up the damn phone..." I whispered into the quiet room, tears of frustration stinging the corners of my eyes.

Silence.

I lowered the phone from my ear, staring at the glowing call log. Four unanswered outgoing calls.

Panic was clawing at my throat. Something was wrong. Something had happened to him. Did our father find out about the dead Jenson thugs at the construction site? Did Bernard send syndicate men to ambush Noah on his way home from the rink? Did George Jenson’s family retaliate?

"Stop it, Micah," I muttered out loud, shaking my head violently, trying to force the terrifying images out of my brain. "Stop spiraling. You’re just overthinking it. It’s Noah. Nothing can happen to Noah."

Even Damon had said it with certainty... Noah was an unstoppable force. He was probably just in a basement somewhere handling business, or meeting with his butler David, or driving through a dead zone where service was spotty.

"He’ll call back," I told myself, pacing across the room. "He’ll see the missed calls and call back in ten minutes."

I placed the phone face-up on the wooden nightstand right next to the bed, setting the volume to the maximum level so I wouldn’t miss a single alert.

I needed to calm down. My skin felt sticky with cold sweat, and my head was pounding from the stress of the day.

I grabbed a clean towel from the bathroom rack, stripped out of my clothes, and stepped into the shower.

I turned the water on hot, letting the heavy stream hit my whole body.

I turned off the taps, stepped out onto the bathmat, and wrapped the towel around my waist. I grabbed a smaller dry towel, rubbing it aggressively through my wet hair as I pushed open the bathroom door and walked back into the bedroom.

The room was dark except for the bedside lamp.

BZZZZZ! BZZZZZ! BZZZZZ!

The phone on the nightstand was vibrating violently, sliding across the polished wood, its screen lighting up the room with bright, flashing white light.

My heart jumped straight into my throat!

I dropped the hair towel straight onto the carpet, not caring where it landed, and rushed across the floor in three frantic strides.

I grabbed the phone with trembling, damp hands.

The screen read: Noah.

A massive, overwhelming wave of relief crashed over me so violently that my knees almost gave out.

"Thank God..." I breathed out, swiping the green icon across the display and slamming the phone against my ear.

"Hey, Noah!" I gasped out, my voice thick with emotion. "Where were you?! Why didn’t you answer my calls?! I was so scared—"

"Master Micah?"

A completely different voice cut smoothly through the speaker.

It wasn’t Noah.

The voice was older.

I froze where I stood, the blood instantly draining out of my face until I felt completely hollowed out.

I didn’t need to ask who it was. I recognized that aristocratic cadence instantly. It was David. Noah’s butler.

My fingers tightened around the phone so hard the glass dug into my skin. A cold, suffocating dread seized my chest, making my throat tighten until I could barely force air past my vocal cords.

"Why... why are you answering Noah’s phone?" my voice cracked, trembling violently as a fresh tear spilled down my cheek. "Wh... where is Noah?"