Chapter Twenty #2
If she doesn’t choose path A, I don’t know how to protect her.
In the compound, I’m outnumbered. If Cain truly wanted her hurt, he’d have me pulled away from her by a group of operatives while he did what he wanted.
I’d fight and claw and roar, I’d break my own bones to get back to her… but I’m not sure it would be enough.
I contemplate the idea of running away from here.
Then, I very briefly entertain the idea of releasing Scarlett, of finding a way to smuggle her out here…
but then I’d never see her again, and Eric would kill every single Nighthawk once he found out what happened.
The only way to keep her and the organization safe is for her to fall for me…
but I don’t know how to make that dream into a reality.
One afternoon, a day after her bandages come off, I find Scarlett sitting on my living room sofa, fiddling with a house plant with one hand while cradling the creature to her chest with the other, humming a quiet tune under her breath.
I’m struck by an unbelievable urge to knock her up. She has a maternal streak—that much is clear to see. She’s not on birth control. If I fucked her every day for the next couple of weeks and started slipping her prenatal vitamins with her nightly tea… it would be a possibility.
And, that way, I’d bind us together forever. I might even have a man on the inside, persuading her to fall for me.
Food for thought. My go-to person to run my insane ideas by is Max, and we’re not exactly on speaking terms. I’ve passed him in the halls or seen him at the gym a few times over the last week, but I don’t have any desire whatsoever to talk to him.
Scarlett startles when she notices me standing behind her, staring at her, and gazes at me for several beats without resentment or anger—merely curiosity.
“Can we go to the greenhouse?” she asks me. “I want to check on the seedlings.”
“Of course,” I say with a nod, staring at her arm for a beat. “How’s your arm?”
She shrugs carefully. “It’s fine. It still pulses and aches, but nothing overwhelming.
” She sets down the plant—and the demon—and stands up, stretching her arms overhead.
Her shirt rides up to expose a bit of midriff, and my gut clenches at the smooth, creamy expanse of skin.
If I had less self-control, I’d push her back down to the couch, pin her legs apart, and eat her pussy until she was sobbing.
Instead, I settle for taking a few deep breaths before offering her my hand. She stares at it for nearly a minute before carefully taking it, letting me encase her tiny hand with my own.
Something in my chest takes flight. She’s letting me touch her—she’s touching me. Cautiously, yes, but still. Giving her a few weeks of recuperation time has been more impactful than I could’ve hoped. Taking care of her, constantly reminding her of her value to me, have led to this moment.
I want to keep her hand in mine for the rest of my life.
“Do you want to drive over to the greenhouse or walk?” I ask her.
“Walk,” she replies quietly, almost hesitantly, even though I pose the same question every time we’re heading over there. “I like the fresh air…”
I squeeze her hand as I unlock the door. Instinctively, I cast a glance over my shoulder, lips thinning when I see Luci kneading the arm of the couch. I know that as soon as I leave, he’ll start clawing the fuck out of it.
“Your cat is a problem,” I tell Scarlett. “He’s feral.”
She smiles a little. “He’s not feral, he’s just… special.”
“And spoiled,” I mutter. “The chefs have to work harder to prepare his meals than ours.”
“The fact that you have chefs in the first place makes you spoiled,” Scarlett comments as we step into the elevator.
I hide a grin. Bantering with her is fun; holding her is fun.
While I have plenty of fun when I’ve punished her—something I won’t say out loud any time soon—playing with her body doesn’t give me the same satisfaction as copacetic times like this.
Right now, we’re existing together with no issues, and I look forward to moments like these. They’re the best part of my day.
Unfortunately, all good things come to an end, and that’s precisely what happens when we step outside. Cain is standing on the path that we need to take, hands folded into the pocket of his suit, expression as blank as ever.
“Just the man I was hoping to see,” he says, his tone completely flat. He disregards Scarlett’s presence entirely, and I feel her go tense beside me. Her hatred for Cain vastly supersedes her hatred for me, and I need to get her out of his presence fast or things will escalate.
“What’s up?” I ask, an edge to my tone.
Cain’s gaze slowly flicks over to Scarlett. “How is your property doing?”
Scarlett hisses at that, and my stomach drops, as if I’ve fallen off a cliff.
“Scarlett is doing well,” I emphasize. “Her wound is—”
“Yes, very good,” Cain interrupts offhandedly. He’s still staring at Scarlett, and unease starts to slither through my gut.
This is going in a catastrophic direction.
“Just had a couple of questions for you, Grey, if you have a moment.”
“Perhaps later.” When Scarlett isn’t silently fuming beside me. “I don’t want to—”
“Your property wouldn’t mind,” Cain says, giving special enunciation to the word property. “It doesn’t have an opinion, after all.” Cain flicks a beady gaze back at Scarlett. “Does it?”
“Do not fucking call her it,” I hiss, ready to give Cain a piece of my mind, but then Scarlett finally parts her lips and starts speaking.
“I am going to destroy this place,” she says, quiet fury staining every world.
“Scarlett, don’t,” I say, but it’s too late. Short of choking her—which I refuse to do—I can’t stop her.
“I’ve met many bad men throughout my life—terrible men, but none of them were quite as callous as you. I cannot believe that I’m saying this, but I hope my father kills you. I hope my brother kills you. If I get the chance, you better believe that I will fucking kill you—”
I spin Scarlett around and clap a hand over her mouth, heart racing, fear taking root in my soul and spreading. Cain pushed her until she snapped, and her snapping… Jesus Christ, Cain has grounds to kill her for what she just said. I’ll give my life before letting any harm come to her, but—
“Fascinating opinion,” Cain drawls. “You truly are a Sharpe, aren’t you?
” his tone hardens. “You just earned yourself a massive fucking punishment, Sharpe, from me. And I’m not Greyson—I won’t tie you to a bed and play with your body.
I will peel your fucking skin off while making you watch.
You remember our sessions in the annex, don’t you, little girl? ”
He strides forward, reaching out a hand, as if to snatch Scarlett from me. I spin us around, protecting her from him, staring down into her wide, frightened eyes. My brain races at a million miles per second as I attempt to find a way to spare her, to backtrack, to get a goddamn time machine and—
“If you interfere, you’re damning yourself,” Cain growls. “Give the bitch to me. That is an order, Greyson.”
That sparks an idea in my mind. A pretty fucking terrible one where I do damn myself, but for a good cause. If I thought I could get away with it, I’d kill Cain right here and now—but then both Scarlett and I would be dead.
No, there’s only one way out of this. One way to protect Scarlett.
“Do not say a word,” I whisper at her. Her eyes are wide with sheer terror—tears are already swimming in them. She lets loose a tiny nod. I release her mouth and turn around to face Cain, keeping her behind me.
“You see her as my property—"
“Property doesn’t talk back,” Cain hisses. “It does not show this level of disrespect—”
“Scarlett is mine,” I emphasize, “therefore I should receive the punishment. It’s only fair. Her backtalk is my mistake, not hers.”
Cain pauses for several infinitely long, breathless moments, while Scarlett releases a muted squeak behind me.
I don’t turn around to look at her. I keep my eyes on Cain, searching his features for a verdict.
Upon his insistence that Scarlett is nothing more than property, he left a glaring loophole he hadn’t considered—that property can’t take punishments. Only the owner of the ‘property’ can.
Of course, I know that Scarlett isn’t my property—she’s a human who happens to be my woman—but Cain doesn’t see it that way. And he’ll either have to stand behind calling her property and punish me, or change his mind and risk looking stupid.
“You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into,” he says quietly. “She’d get fifteen lashes with my whip. You will get fifty. It could kill you, and frankly, I don’t give a fuck if it does—”
“No!” Scarlett cries.
“Shut the fuck up,” I throw over my shoulder, giving her a warning glare before turning back to Cain.
“It’s my punishment to accept. If it kills me, I only have one condition; you let her go. Don’t reassign her to someone else. Otherwise, Eric will come for us, and he will destroy us.”
Cain’s jaw flexes. He tries to sidestep, get a glimpse of Scarlett, but I shift my stance to continue guarding her from him.
I got her into this mess, I didn’t double check to make sure Cain wasn’t around.
Now, I get to deal with the ramifications.
Her temper snapping isn’t her fault; it’s mine.
I won’t let her bear consequences that fall squarely on my shoulders.
“Agreed,” Cain finally says. “You have my word. Now, let’s see if you survive. We’re going to the annex.”
“Now?” I ask. Cain only glares in response, telling me everything I need to know.
I try to mentally prepare myself, but there’s no use. I know how cruel Cain is with a whip; I’ve seen him actually whip a man to death before. I’m in for a world of agony, but if it protects Scarlett, it’s worth it.
“Now.”
“Let me take Scarlett back to our apartment—”
“No,” Cain snaps. “She got you into this fucking mess, and she’s lucky I’m not deciding that letting her live is more of a hassle than it’s worth. No, she stays, and she watches the consequences of her insolence.”