Chapter Seventeen
Greyson
I’m in a panic when I get back to the fortress.
I’ve had two hours to agonize over every single horrible possibility on my drive back here, and the reports I’ve received from people on-base are not promising.
Communications are largely down, but a single, haunting message got out; Scarlett’s in the medical wing.
Despite my numerous requests for more information, I couldn’t get any, so my mind has been circling around to the worst possibilities imaginable.
She’s in the newly-constructed ICU, fighting for life.
She’s dead, and nobody wanted to risk telling me and inevitably becoming the messenger I shot.
She’s crippled, or she lost a limb, or she has hours left to live…
When I drive through the gates of the fortress, I can see that it’s a fucking mess.
Bomb blasts cover the grounds around the primary buildings, burning random spots of the fields into an unrecognizable crisp.
The buildings also have plenty of scorch marks on and around them, and there’s a hole in the side of the training center…
but our main building, HQ, is largely undamaged.
It was built to withstand most low-level bomb blasts and even has a bunker underground that protects from nuclear warfare.
It’s also equipped with embedded defenses that scramble any foreign target systems, making it extremely difficult to hit.
“This is a fucking nightmare,” Cain mutters, shaking his head. “Absolute mess.”
“Why don’t we have air defenses?” I demand, parking in front of headquarters. I’m too impatient to take the car to the garage. “Why weren’t we ready for something like this?”
“Air defenses have been down for maintenance since the beginning of the fucking regime change,” Cain responds tightly.
I don’t take the time to interrogate him further; all of my energy is focused on getting to Scarlett, making sure that she’s alright. If I spend another minute wondering how badly she was hurt, if she’s even alive, I’ll snap and kill the nearest person to me.
Max jogs outside of HQ just as I get out of the car, and we meet halfway to the entrance.
“Is Scarlett okay?” I demand, at the same time that Cain snaps, “Casualties?”
Max looks between the two of us. “Three injuries, no casualties. Red team was running drills out in the open when a black jet started dropping fucking bombs on us—two of their people got burned up a bit. I was escorting Scarlett back from the greenhouse when the jet spotted us—we were at ground zero of a bomb.” Panic bubbles up in my chest, and it suddenly feels like there’s a foreign body settled deep in my soul, clawing around and screaming out for Scarlett, to ensure she’s safe.
I grip Max’s collar. “How bad?”
“Second-degree burn on her left arm and a mild concussion,” he says. “That’s it. That’s all. We were extremely close to the blast, so I think she blacked out from shock, but she’s fine now. Awake, shaken, but fine.”
“You take care of Scarlett,” Cain says, jerking his chin at me. “I’ll check on the others. Both of you, in my office tonight—11pm. I’d like to know who the fuck attacked us, how they knew where we’re located, and why the hell we didn’t get a goddamn heads up.”
I barely hear Cain’s words—all I can think about is my little Flower, sitting alone in the medical wing. Frightened, confused, without anyone there with her. Or, worse, with someone unfamiliar there with her.
I jog to the entrance. Max keeps pace beside me, wiping at a black smudge on his cheek. “Who’s on her right now?” I demand.
“Toby…” he trails off.
I glare at him. “And?”
He clears his throat. “The cat.”
That fucking cat. As soon as I have the thought, though, it’s wiped away. If having Lucifer near Scarlett right now is enough to give her peace of mind, I’m fine with it. I took him away for a week; I was going to give him back soon enough, anyways.
It only takes a minute to get to the second floor.
Max takes point, leading me down several winding halls until we come upon a room with a wide-open door.
Scarlett’s sitting on a hospital bed in the center, a shitty blanket drawn over her legs.
Her left arm is covered in white bandages, and on her lap is the furry menace she adopted.
Toby sits in a chair by her bed, eyes glued to his computer screen.
I rush inside, making a beeline for the bed.
Instantly, Lucifer crouches and his ears pin back, fur standing on end as he releases a deafening yowl.
Scarlett winces at the noise, turns to look me over briefly, then scoops the cat up in her arms and cradles him to her chest as if he’s a baby rather than the physical embodiment of a demon.
“What happened?” I ask Scarlett, reaching forward to cup her cheek. The cat hisses and swipes out a paw at me, but Scarlett jerks him away and gently admonishes him. He settles down, though I can still feel his glare boring a hole in the side of my face.
What is that fucker’s problem with me?
“A bomb dropped from a plane and nearly killed me and Max.” Her gaze darts over to the man in question, who’s standing in the doorway, and she quickly averts her eyes.
“Before it could drop another, a helicopter came out of nowhere and shot it down. It’s still lying in a crumpled heap on the farming fields outside of the greenhouse. ”
“Scarlett was singed when the bomb detonated,” Max expands. “It’s a second-degree burn. It’ll scar, but she’ll be fine.”
I turn to look at Max with a frown. I don’t like the softness in his voice when he’s speaking about Scarlett, or speaking to her. I trust him with her, but I can sense he has a soft spot for her… and I don’t like it.
“Are you okay?” I ask Scarlett, ghosting my fingers over the bandage on her arm.
She nods. “The doctor gave me an injection that’s making me feel a little bit high. I don’t like that so much, but the pain’s gone, which is nice.”
I don’t think I mind her being drugged up, considering she’s looking me in the eye and speaking in full sentences. Now, if only I could get her to do so while she’s sober…
“Where’s the doctor?”
“With the others. Jenkins got a pretty severe third-degree burn on his back, so Ross is looking after him. He told me to pass on that Scarlett needs as much sleep as possible and foods that are easy on the stomach. She’s got a grade-one concussion, so she’ll have a bad headache and some dizziness for a few days, but she’ll be fine.
And she’s good to go to sleep—MRI showed she’s in the clear. ”
Despite Max’s assurances, I angle Scarlett’s chin to get a good look at her pupils. They’re evenly dilated and she seems capable of focusing, so hopefully she’ll be good after a nice, long nap.
“Let’s get you to bed,” I say, gently pulling the sheets off Scarlett’s legs and offering her my hand.
“She shouldn’t be walking yet,” Max says.
While I appreciate that he did his job looking after Scarlett… it almost seems like he did too good of a job. I gaze at him for several beats, trying to figure out whether I’m overthinking or there might actually be a problem here.
Either way, now’s not the time to address it. I need to cool down, and for that, I need Scarlett tucked away safely in my bed.
I gently wind one arm behind her back and the other beneath her legs.
Before I can lift her up, Lucifer swipes out with his claws again; Max lets out a dog whistle.
“Luci, no. Come here.” The cat lets out a growl that sounds almost irritated, but abandons Scarlett’s lap and leaps onto the floor, regally padding his way over to Max.
He stops in the doorway, rubs against Max’s leg, then turns to glare at me.
I pick Scarlett up, cradling her close to my chest. Protectiveness is riding me hard right now, making me desperate to get her back to my territory, where I can look after her and take care of her.
Max moves out of the doorway to give us room, his gaze fixed firmly on Scarlett.
As we pass him, Scarlett reaches out to put her hand on his shoulder.
I go still and stiff, watching both of them closely.
“Thank you,” she tells Max softly. “I don’t think I’d have made it out of the field if…. If you weren’t there.”
Max gives her hand a brief squeeze. “Anytime, Scar.”
Scar. He’s calling her a fucking nickname, and she’s touching him. There’s an energy in the air between them; not romantic, but there’s a connection. Possibly stemming from their shared near-death experience.
And that’s when I know… I have a big fucking problem on my hands.
I try to cut the interaction between Scarlett and Max out of my thoughts, but I can’t stop thinking about it.
She touched him of her own volition… and she’s only done that to me once.
On the day she poisoned and nearly killed me, I remember waking up to her climbing on top of me.
I had a pretty severe reaction that nearly scared her off…
but she overcame her fear and ended up riding me while running her hands all over my body.
It was the first and only time that we had sex and connected.
That was the moment I knew, without a doubt, that she owned every piece of me that remains.
I knew I belonged to her wholly and completely…
and while I’ve claimed her with a thoroughness that can’t be denied, my ownership of her is circumstantial at best and entirely forced.
She owned me when she poisoned me, and I’ve spent every moment we were apart belonging to her.
But she isn’t mine—not really. I might have her body, but I don’t have access to the parts of her that count.
I hadn’t previously even considered that the disconnect between us might make room for someone else to worm their way past her defenses.
Now, it looks like Max has the potential to really get to her…
if he hasn’t already. Which means I should separate them, but that could present its own problem.