Wordless

by Alyne Roberts

  He looks at me, his hate and bitterness clear.

  “I promised I won’t come for her and I won’t. If I see you in the west, I will kill you,” he growls low so no one would hear.

  I laugh and give him a cocky grin. “Likewise, Stone.”

  He turns to his car, glancing behind me one last time before getting in.

  “Shiloh was never meant to be caged,” he tells me before getting behind the wheel.

  We watch his headlights as they fade into the desert. We board our plane, leaving behind the sand and dry heat.

  Shiloh sleeps with her head in my lap. I run my fingers through her hair, feeling the way her softness meets my roughness. We lost men today, and she lost her family. There is nothing I wouldn’t do to have her safe with me. She showed me I needed more than money and power. Without having someone to fight for, what good is your strength?

  When everything is loud and crazy, she’s silent and calm. She’s peace and quiet. But she was never wordless to me.

  chapter thirty-six

  shiloh

  OUT OF ALL the words I know, the silent ones are the most important. It’s what is said when I roll over in the morning and meet Pierce’s eyes as we wake up. It’s the laughter that comes when I look at Poppy after she says a joke. I could say I love you a million times but the sounds mean less than the way I show those I love.

  “I heard your voice once.”

  I roll my head to look at Pierce beside me.

  When? I sign.

  We learned American Sign Language after I came home with Pierce. It allows me to communicate with others and be more detailed with Pierce. Hans, James, and Poppy also learned, along with the rest of the staff at home.

  We taught ourselves as I tried to tell Pierce the missing pieces of my puzzle. My history and how I ended up in that club that night. I told him about Amethyst and what I went through to end up on his doorstep. The things the man who raised me said in his office while the rest of the house burned around us.

  “When you pulled me from that car. I heard your voice telling me to hang on in my dreams for weeks after that night.”

  I smile because I love that he remembers it. He once told me he was jealous that Cyrus had that part of me and he didn’t. He hates he never heard me laugh—or moan. Pierce doesn’t need my voice, though. He has my heart, and no one ever had that before.

  Sitting up, I dig my fingers in the sand. The beaches in Italy feel different than back home. The sand grains feel lighter and the ocean foam looks thicker. Pierce says it’s in my imagination because I say that about all the foreign beaches we visit.

  Pierce watches me from his spot in the sand. His dark eyes are hidden under his sunglasses, but I can feel them on my body.

  “You look beautiful,” he says quietly.

  I look like a beached whale, I sign with a grin.

  “You do not!” he argues, sitting up to rub his hand over my swollen stomach.

  In less than two months we will welcome our son, Luca Jameson Gallo, into the world. Sometimes I fear I won’t be a good a good mother because I never had proper parents. Poppy assures me that I’ll be a natural. I try to believe her. Until then, we are traveling around the world, collecting broken shells for my collection. I have seen almost every ocean and even some waterfalls. Every day we make new memories to override the bad ones.

  He calls it rewriting the story. I smile and run my fingers over the ink on Pierce’s chest.

  Shiloh Was Here.

  The night after I drew the angry proclamation, he had it tattooed over my writing. I cried when I saw it the first time when we finally returned home after the fire. Pierce told me he knew I would never leave his heart, so he wanted that reminder there forever.

  “Word is that the west has risen, and is being run by four gorgeous women,” Pierce tells me.

  Only took them six months, I sign back.

  We left Nevada that smoky night, and I have been almost every else in the world but back there. I didn’t even return for my father’s funeral. There was no body found to be buried. I left my sisters with Cyrus to pick up the pieces. The secret of the Blackards was out now. No one dared to retaliate against the Gallos after they defeated Marcus. There’s an unspoken agreement between the sides: we don’t cross the invisible line, but no more blood will be shed.

  My name is known in the underground crime world, respected and admired.

  Shiloh Gallo. Princess of the East, they call me. I find it ridiculous, but Poppy loves my new nickname. She doesn’t miss an opportunity to call me princess and is constantly buying me tiaras. At least one in every city we visit.

  Power (n.) something I never had before.

  My grandmother used to say that a woman’s power was in her beauty.

  I never fully understood what she meant, but I let her groom me as she pleased. She meant that my power was determined by the man my father married me to. I was supposed to be good enough so the intelligent and strongest of my father’s men would choose and accept me.

  That’s not power. That’s just good marketing.

  Power isn’t making men across the country fear your name. Power is changing lives and saving them.

  With my power, I saved Pierce and Poppy. I changed my own life. I created a life. I changed the lives of my sisters and my father’s men. I destroyed their kingdom and now they are rebuilding. Hopefully without the cages. My sisters have a fortune and a last name that will get them far in this world. If they can step out the shadows, they can rule.

  Respect (n.) something I fought for.

  Respect isn’t fear of consequences you may serve if wronged. It’s someone wanting to please you because you deserve it.

  I walked away from my family, leaving them in pieces but not hopeless. I don’t agree with why they would want to stay, but I understand. They deserve a chance to learn how to move forward on their own.

  Freedom isn’t the money to go anywhere on the globe. It’s having a heart without a cage built around it, free to feel and love and however and whoever you want.

  As I stare at my husband, I finally know what freedom truly is. No more fear or feeling trapped. I live with nothing but open skies and stretching oceans. I am protected and strong. No longer invisible and overlooked.

  Never silent and unheard.

  I may have saved his life once, but he saves mine every single day.

  definitions

  ELEUTHEROMANIA: (N.) AN intense and irresistible desire for freedom.

  illecebrous (adj.) alluring, attracting, enticing.

  Discombobulated (adj.) emotionally confused or uncertain.

  Drapetomania (n.) an overwhelming urge to run away.

  Hiraeth (n.) a homesickness for a home to which you cannot return.

  Thalassophile: (n.) A person who loves sea, oceans.

  Paradox: (n.) a statement or proposition that seems self-contradictory or absurd but in reality expresses a possible truth.

  Basorexia (n.) the overwhelming desire to kiss

  Selcouth (adj.) unfamiliar, rare, strange and yet marvelous.

  Alexithymia (n.) Inability to describe emotions verbally.

  Yonderly (adj.) mentally or emotionally distant; absent-minded

  Catharsis: (n.) the purging or release of emotional tensions.

  Philophobia: (n.) fear of emotional attachment; fear of being in, or falling in love.

  Temerate: (v.) to break a bond or binding promise.

  Eccedentesiast: (n.) someone who hides pain behind a smile.

  Lacuna: (n.) A blank space. A missing part.

  Brontide (n.) the low rumble of distant thunder.

  Verklempt: (adj.) completely overcome with emotion.

  Whelve: (v.) to bury something deep.; to hide.

  Habromainia: (n.) delusions of happiness.

  Incalescent (adj.) growing hotter of more ardent; set ablaze.

  Thank you for reading.

  If you enjoyed Wordless, please consider leaving a review.

/>   Keep reading for a sneak peek into Vivid Lies!

  For Deleted Scenes, Teasers and more: See Wordless on Wattpad HERE

  For inspiration, visual aides, and more definitions: See Wordless on Pinterest HERE

  For the original The Little Mermaid 1836 by Hans Andersen: Go HERE

  about the author

  alyne roberts

  ALYNE LIVES IN Ohio with her husband, their two dogs and cat. Working full time in an office all day, she spends her nights reading, writing, or binge-watching an entire TV series in a night. She refuses to grow up, loves Disney movies and anything with owls. She couldn't live without her coffee or her furry "children".

  Alyne wrote her first novel titled "Light to the Darkness" in 2014, followed by the Conflicted Encounters Series.

  To stay up to date on what Alyne is working on, teasers and more: Sign up for the newsletter.

  She loves to connect with readers so feel free to stalk her!

  | Website | Facebook | Twitter | Instagram |

  Books By Alyne Roberts:

  Light to the Darkness

  Memorized

  Atlas

  Vivid Lies

  Wordless

  Conflicted Encounters Series:

  Jolted

  Impacted

  Shaken

  acknowledgements

  thank you

  WRITING WORDLESS WAS as special to me as it was challenging. It was an idea that I played with for a very long time in my head. Writing a book where the heroine cannot speak was harder than I expected. There were many people that kept me going and without them, Wordless would have stayed as an idea in my mind.

  My husband is my biggest supporter and without him, I would have starved to death. Thank you for taking care of me and putting up with my crazy idea.

  Thank you mom and dad for always cheering me on. You always believe in me.

  Leslie: thank you for listening, adding your input, and putting up with me on my worse days.

  Thank you Steph for always being there when I need to talk it out or I want to scrape an idea.

  Tiffany is the best PA ever and thank you for keeping my ass in gear. You always demanded I get to work when I needed it.

  HUGE Thank you to Letitia with RBA Designs. Every cover you do is gorgeous and you never cease to amaze me with what you come up with for me. Thank you for your excitement on this cover.

  I don't know what I would do without Max at Polished Pen. Thank you for working with me and helping me perfect something that meant so much to me.

  My three fur-babies: there is no better distraction than you guys. Let's just do it a little bit less. Okay?

  The biggest thank you of all goes to the readers, bloggers, or anyone that has read or shared my work. This is all pointless without you. Thank you for reading!

  two girls. two boys. the math should be easy

  TWO GIRLS. TWO Boys. The math should be easy.

  London and Brooklyn have shared everything their whole lives. They shared a birthday, a mother they never met, and a tragic past. Their bond is unbreakable and beautiful. The sisters may look identical but they are nothing alike.

  Brooklyn is the wild and reckless sister. London is logical and responsible.

  When they leave the only home they have ever known with their best friend Miles, their bond is tested.

  Miles finally sees Brooklyn and London as more than the girls he grew up with. He is smart and caring, everything London should want. But it might be too late because a new stranger enters their lives, changing everything.

  Kane is mysterious and troubled, with commitment issues. He should to be perfect for Brooklyn and her wild side.

  What happens things don’t go as they should?

  Nothing goes as planned. Things are never as they seem. No one is who they say they are.

  The lies are so vivid, they are almost real.

  prologue

  YOU KNOW THAT feeling when something is all yours? Something that belongs to you only? Something that no one can use, touch, take, or ruin?

  Yeah, me either.

  I had never known what it was like to not share. I shared a womb with my sister. We shared a mother whom we never got to meet. We shared a father, a birthday, and our faces.

  As kids, we shared a bedroom, swapping nights on the top bunk. We shared clothes and toys. There was never two of the same gift under the tree at Christmas. There was one. For us. Ours.

  As we grew older, we shared friends, makeup, and shoes. There were no "London's clothes" or "Brooklyn's clothes." There was none of that nonsense. It only belonged to one of us if we had it for that moment in time.

  None of that mattered though. We never fought over the clothes, toys, or even the remote. Our whole lives were a balancing act. Each side automatically giving and taking to keep order.

  We shared our pain and happiness.

  The only thing that hurt to share was someone's thoughts—their feelings, love, and mind.

  Neither one of us was ever truly alone in someone's mind or heart. We shared that, too. Each one was permanently connected to the other. There was never a spot for just you. Because when they’d see one of us, they see the other.

  To everyone in the world, we were "London and Brooklyn."

  And nothing was ever "mine."

  chapter one

  LONDON

  MY BARE feet slap against the wood flooring as I race down the hall. I hate being late. I actually hate being on time. I need to be early.

  "Where did she put them?" I whisper to myself, spinning around the small bedroom my sister and I use as a walk-in closet. The room is a disaster, still littered with boxes from our move. It's been a month already but both us have been too busy to finish unpacking.

  "If I were Brooklyn, where would I leave a pair of flip-flops?" I ask myself. "The closet makes too much sense."

  Having already searched for the car keys, hair straightener, and my favorite lip gloss, I am irritated to say the least. Nothing new.

  Brooklyn got in late the night before from work. I really don't want to wake her to ask about them. She would breathe fire and tell me to fuck off. Huge waste of time, really.

  I am the morning person; she is the night owl.

  I dart out of the room and slide into the kitchen. Of course, the pair of sandals sits near the fridge. I shake my head as I slip my feet inside, picturing my sister taking them off as she rummaged the fridge late last night.

  "Your screaming woke me up."

  I spin on my heel and come face to face with Brooklyn. She looks as exhausted as I feel. Like looking into a mirror.

  "Sorry," I say, and I mean it.

  "Fourth time this week," she reminds me.

  "I'm aware, Brooklyn," I snap. "Is there a reason we can't put the keys on the hook by the door?"

  "Because we all can't be as organized and efficient as you, London," she mocks, crossing her arms in annoyance.

  Her long brown hair is a knotted mess, her mascara is smudged, and I can see her freckles that are usually covered with makeup. She still looks beautiful even though she just woke up after only a few hours of sleep. Funny how identical we are, but I always think of her as the prettier one. The only difference in appearance is the birthmark I carry on my hipbone, but Brooklyn has a sex appeal to her that I don't.

  "Well only one of us can be flighty and impulsive. If we both did whatever the hell we felt like, then the world would implode with the chaos."

  Brooklyn is the storm to my calm. She is loud where I am quiet. She is the one who thinks up the bad ideas. I am the one who thinks things out and keeps us grounded.

  If she were a color, she would be red. Passionate, strong and energetic.

  "Maybe the world needs a little more chaos," she argues with a smirk.

  "I think you bring enough."

  Brooklyn watches me grab my phone and pull my long hair up in a ponytail. Her blue eyes are thoughtful and worried.

  "Maybe you should see someone about
the nightmares," she says quietly. "It's been weeks now."

  I look at my sister and see that I'm hurting her. She and I are all we have, and if we can't protect each other, then no one can.

  "It's just the stress of the busy season and the move," I tell her. "Please don't worry."

  "You know he won't find us here, London."

  I swallow the lump in my throat and nod.

  "You're gonna be late," she says, killing the heavy conversation. I fly past her, kissing her cheek on the way.

  Glancing at my phone again, I grab my things waiting by the door and rush out of our apartment. I heft the heavy camera bag over my shoulder as I walk quickly down the hall toward the elevators. I almost slam into another resident as I dart into the elevator right before the doors slide close.

  "Sorry!" I yell at him as I smash the button for the lobby.

  Dark eyebrows rise in amusement as I blush profusely. The guy just stares at me as the open space between us closes in and cuts off our line of vision. I hang my head in embarrassment. I hate being late!

  It feels like it takes forever to make it across town and to the beach. Mostly because I get lost and have no idea where I'm going. My camera bag is weighing on my shoulder as I trudge across the sand to the pier where I notice my clients are already waiting.