12. Ren
12
REN
I ’ve waited for this moment.
Imagined it.
Longed for it.
There have been times in my solitude when the promise of being with her again was the only thing that kept me going. If I’m being honest, Scarlet is the last trace of humanity left inside me. The one good, true thing left in my otherwise bleak, dark, empty existence.
Empty from the lack of her, of the warm glow of her love and adoration. The lack of her touch or even the sound of her voice.
And her smell, dear god, hits me all at once, rolling through me like the thunder now rolling overhead, so loud and strong, it causes the earth to shake beneath my boots.
Or that could be me.
It could be the force of finally placing my hands upon her while pressing my body to hers that has me feeling as though the earth itself shakes.
After so much waiting and wanting, sometimes barely existing from one second to the next, here she is. It had to be tonight. I couldn’t wait another day. Not when she’ll be leaving soon, away from me to the one place I can no longer venture. The one place I will never be able to follow her as I’ve been all this time. Here we are. Just as I imagined.
Except for one small, inconvenient point—she’s not playing along. She might want to melt against me—she came close—but she’s fighting it. Fighting her instinctive impulse to give herself to me once again.
She’s fighting me. It wasn’t supposed to be this way.
“Fucking stop,” I grunt close to her ear, though I doubt she hears me.
Not when she’s jerking her shoulders back and forth, trying her best to swing her fists, even though I’ve pinned her arms against her body, holding her in place. She may as well try to hit one of the trees surrounding us for all the good it does.
She draws as deep a breath as she can, the steel bands of my arms restricting her, and I realize almost too late what she’s going to do. My reflexes are as sharp as they ever were. Even so, I barely have time to clamp a hand over her mouth before she lets out a harrowing scream.
I’m grateful to the heavy rain now pelting us like bullets, big, fat, and heavy, and along with it, a clap of thunder that would have drowned her out anyway. There’s no way anyone inside can hear her—I could march a band through this garden, and there’s a chance no one would notice.
Mother Nature herself is on my side. The rain will wash away my footprints and the tracks from my tires. I couldn’t have chosen a better night, though there was no choice in the matter. It was now or never.
Everything is on our side, down to the neglected gate embedded in the garden wall. It’s covered in vines that have grown thick and healthy for years, camouflaging the gate until it blends into the vine-covered stone to either side. Somebody might have known it was there at one time, but it’s been forgotten for years, and the rusted lock was easy enough to pick.
Sometimes, I wonder if Xander is as on top of things as he wants everyone to believe. Sure, he can post guards all around the compound, and they can watch all they want. But when it’s late at night, and their reflexes are a little slow—especially when I haven’t shown so much as a hair on my ass, so they are bound to start questioning whether there’s a chance I’ll show up at all—it takes nothing to sneak up behind a man and knock him unconscious.
It’s all going according to plan.
It confirms what I’ve always known: this is meant to be. She’s meant to be with me and only me. Everything has come together to make this night possible.
She is the only fly in the ointment.
Apparently, she hasn’t gotten the memo as she’s still fighting; her bare feet slide over the wet grass as she struggles to get back to the patio, knocking me off balance. My boots make deep grooves in what’s becoming dangerously slick mud, and it’s all I can do to keep from screaming at her to stop before we both end up face-first in the muck.
Yet that’s precisely where we end up when my balance gives way due to her frantic struggling. Even now, my instinct is to protect her, and I manage to twist to the right and avoid crushing her beneath my body, the two of us landing on our sides. She slides against me and almost gets loose for the briefest instant, but I tighten my grip and roll, pinning her beneath me.
Panic threatens to erase my confidence. Why is she acting this way? Have I been away too long? While it feels like an eternity, she can’t have changed this much. The depth of her love for me can’t have gone shallow. Not my Scarlet.
If she’s angry with me for having seemingly abandoned her all this time, we can work that out. She’ll understand once I have a chance to explain myself.
I just need that chance, and she’s not giving it to me.
I’ve never been one to react well to being misunderstood.
Perhaps that’s why I see red when she somehow manages to drive an elbow into my ribs. I have never had a reaction like this to her, but she’s never driven me to this point, either. Refusing to give in though it’s clear she wanted to at first.
She’s so damn stubborn—that much hasn’t changed.
And while her stubbornness has threatened to drive me insane in the past, that’s nothing compared to this. Not when my entire fucking life is on the line. I haven’t taken all these pains to go unseen for two years only to be discovered in the garden, covered in mud.
The possibility of discovery and knowing she would be the reason for it is what makes me pull away. The wind blows hard enough that the trees seem to bend, flower beds pummeled by sheets of rain coming down hard enough to knock the petals from the blooms.
The most beautiful bloom of all is now mud-covered, hair plastered to her skull and face. I take in her heart-shaped face. She’s pale as a ghost, the color draining from her in what I know is extreme fear. I’ve seen that look on her face before; I just never thought I’d be the one to put it there.
How could she be so afraid of me? Doesn’t she know better?
“I’m not going to hurt you,” I try to tell her, but we may as well be in that dark corner all over again. I doubt she can hear me between the violent storm and her own fear ringing in her head.
Only this time, there’s no calming her down, no demonstrating the deep breaths she needs to take. She’s dead set on fighting me. Lightning streaks the sky, turning night to day, for one eerie second, and the almost feral look in her eyes makes me pity her and hate myself all at once.
Time is ticking by. I have to get her out of here. Sure, I’ve been lucky, but do I want to test that luck much longer?
The tension inside me expands. I was hoping I wouldn’t have to do it this way. For a moment, I considered not bringing the syringe. Call me a romantic, but for some reason, I imagined her happily agreeing to run away with me. Only the memory of how impossible she can sometimes be was enough to make me bring the sedative along.
I hate to use it, but this isn’t my fault.
None of it is. I’ve only ever done what I was compelled to do.
My fingers shake as I pull the syringe from my inside pocket and pop the cap off the needle with my thumb.
Lightning flashes again, and at the very last moment, she sees it. Recognizes what it is and what’s about to happen. Though I can’t hear her gasp, I see it in the way her mouth opens and feel it in the sharp intake of breath that lifts her chest.
In one smooth move, I shove it into her neck and press down on the plunger. She struggles against me, and I hold her in place, waiting for the effects of the drug to kick in. It didn’t have to be this way. I only hope she doesn’t hate me for it. When she’s calmer, when we’re away from here, and the shock of seeing me again wears off, I’ll be able to talk to her. We’ll get back to where we used to be.
We have to. What else is there, otherwise?
“Listen to me.” I lower my head until our noses touch, trying to get through to her before she loses consciousness. “Everything is going to be okay. I’m going to take care of you. I’m not going to hurt you, ever, I swear. You’re everything to me. You know that.”
Her eyelids flutter, her body giving a few weak, ineffectual little jerks like she still wants to fight, even if it’s a losing battle.
I stayed away too long, didn’t I? Have I lost her?
It may as well be an eternity before she goes limp, her head lolling to the side and muscles loose. She doesn’t even twitch at the rain hitting her face. Her beautiful fucking face. I allow my fingers to trace the line of her jaw and over her bottom lip before coming back to myself. I don’t have a moment to lose here.
I survey the area quickly, making sure we’re alone. I find my footing and stand, crouching to lift her from the ground. She’s as light as she ever was, almost weightless in my arms, her head lolling on my shoulder. Her blond hair sticks to her face. With her slender body tucked against my chest, I lower my head and step as carefully as I can across the muddy ground while moving quickly. My goal— the gate I left slightly ajar to make for a quick exit.
Ahead, I can see the guard still unconscious and propped up against the other side of the wall, his chin touching his chest. Did I hit him that hard?
I might have killed him, but the possibility only stirs righteous pride rather than guilt or sorrow.
He stood in my way. That’s what happens to people who stand in my way.
This is war, after all. In war, there are casualties. River’s reminder echoes in my mind. He’s right and always has been, except when it comes to her.
My angel.
The nearly broken down, nondescript Jeep I’ve used for months sits in the deep shadows provided by gnarled oak trees lining the north side of the outer compound wall. It helps me blend in better than any flashy, expensive vehicle I was accustomed to in the past.
Thanks to the thick growth from the branches and leaves overhead, the gusty rain turns to a light drizzle once I reach the rear door and swing it open. I can see more clearly now that there’s no curtain of rain in my eyes.
I laid a blanket out over the back seat before I made the trek up to the house, just in case I had to use the sedative. Even unconsciously, I wanted her to be comfortable. For now, I lay her across the back seat, my priority being to get the hell away from here before anyone sounds the alarm.
I doubt I would hear any alarm that’s raised, and not only because of the near-constant thunder. The storm has reached its peak, directly overhead, lightning zig-zagging across the sky. I will barely need my headlights since the flashes are coming in one on top of the other.
None of that can touch the rush of blood in my ears, the victorious roar in my head. I did it. I took her from them. I claimed her for myself.
She’s back where she belongs.
Mine. Mine. Mine.
Climbing into the Jeep, I close the door, which provides a measure of relief. I can hear myself think. I can hear her soft breathing, too, smooth and even. She’ll be fine. It’ll be nothing more than a long nap.
And when she wakes up, we’ll settle a few things. I can’t stand the thought of her being afraid, not of me. Not when the only thing that’s ever mattered is her well-being.
It occurs to me, as it has many times before, that her father and brother and the rest of her family might have done everything in their power to turn her against me. The idea leaves me grinding my teeth as I pull away, grateful for the Jeep’s handling over wet roads. I don’t have to slow down or be cautious. There isn’t time for that.
I glance away from the road to take a look in the rearview mirror, my gaze landing on her limp, sodden form. She wouldn’t believe any poison against me, would she? The mere idea makes my heart clench and my throat tighten.
Has she betrayed me?
I shake my head, a growl stirring in my chest and loosening the tension. That’s River talking. He’s never missed a chance to remind me of how she’s forgotten I exist and written me off as nothing more than a villain. I refuse to believe it. She would never turn away from me. Hell, I tried hard enough to make her do that, didn’t I? She refused. And she’ll refuse now, I know it.
I’m so concerned with arguing with myself that I almost forget what needs to be done before another mile rolls over on the odometer. I should’ve done it back there, but I wanted to get away before anyone noticed.
We’re a few miles from the compound now, the road empty, thanks to the late hour and the storm. I’m confident enough to pull off to the shoulder, the tires crunching over gravel before coming to a stop.
I’m about to undo a grievous wrong.
She’s so thoroughly under the effect of the sedative that she doesn’t react when I kneel over her in the back seat. I hate what I’m about to do, but it’s a necessity. I begin probing the area under her left shoulder.
It’s here, I know it is, implanted long ago. During what she believed was nothing more than an ordinary dental procedure, unaware because of the drugs used to knock her out.
The parallel between that event and this one isn’t lost on me as my fingers find the hard lump no more than an inch in length.
The difference is I’m doing this for her own good. She’ll thank me for this.
I withdraw the other instrument I brought along this evening from my pocket: a scalpel. The metal flashes when another burst of lightning fills the sky. The strikes aren’t coming as furiously as they were minutes ago. The storm is beginning to pass.
With my left thumb and forefinger, I isolate the device, holding it still while taking the scalpel in my right hand. I release a breath, ensuring I have a steady hand before I run a quick, careful line over the top of the tiny lump. A shallow cut, but one that pains me just the same. I suck in a wince through gritted teeth. I hate to think of causing her pain.
There it is.
The tracker Xander implanted in her when she was a kid.
Little did he know the favor he would be doing me later on. After Q accidentally mentioned the tracker years ago, I made it my business to hack the software used to handle the information.
Without the presence of this tiny piece of hardware, I wouldn’t have had such an easy time tracking her around campus. I smile into the air. I wish I could see his reaction when he realizes he’s not as smart as he thinks.
I ease the bit of metal from her shoulder, then lean over to roll down the window before throwing the device out onto the road. If it isn’t crushed by the weight of a passing vehicle, I’m sure it will be lost just the same. Like looking for a needle in a haystack.
“Once we’re at the cabin, everything will be fine. It’s so far away; nobody, not your pesky father, or overbearing brother, no one will be able to find us.” I tell her once it’s over, my lips brushing her mud-streaked temple. “We’ll finally be happy, the way we were always meant to be. I’ll finally have my queen beside me.”