Chapter 13
CHAPTER 13
PRESENT DAY
T ally called Simone as she rushed out of her apartment. Since it was the middle of the night, they understandably didn’t have a babysitter available. As much as Simone wanted to come to help and support Tally, Tom was not about to let his wife go gallivanting off into an unknown situation while he stayed home with their baby. He was going to meet Tally at the restaurant.
Tally was still on the phone with Simone when she stepped outside her apartment building. As soon as she was in the night air, she knew.
“My restaurant’s on fire!” Panic and devastation at the reality of that statement made her voice crack.
“You’re there already?” Simone asked. Then louder like she was shouting across her bedroom, said, “Tom, Tally says it’s a fire! Take the truck. There are still water bottles in the back from the church picnic!”
Tally didn’t know if Simone meant the water bottles were for her and Tom or if she thought whatever water was in the truck would be enough to put the fire out.
It wouldn’t be.
From where she was standing blocks away outside her apartment building, Tally could smell the intensity of the smoke in the air. A lot of smoke. Distinctive fire truck sirens and horns blared in the distance.
“I can hear the fire trucks,” Tally answered quickly. “I need to go, Si! I have to know what’s going on!”
“Tally!” Simone called out hastily.
“What?” Tally demanded, needing to put her phone away so she could run. She couldn’t risk holding it and dropping it.
“Do you think it was him? Your stalker? I mean, do you think he?—”
“No!” Tally shouted without needing Simone to finish her thought. “He would never. Plus, he’s been with me all night and he was with me when the alarm woke me up.”
“Wait, do you mean with you-with you or with you -with you?”
Tally had no idea what the difference was and did not have time to figure it out. “I have to go, Si! Tell Tom to be careful.”
“You too! Let me know what’s going on as soon as you can.”
Tally promised and hung up before Simone began to question her more. Folding up her cane but keeping hold of it in her hand, Tally sprinted down the sidewalk towards her burning restaurant. Despair tried to drag her down, to slow her steps, but Tally pushed forward.
She didn’t know specifically where her mystery man was and hoped he was okay.
The heat of the inferno was intense. The closer she got to her restaurant, the more inaccurate her echolocation was. From the roar of the fire and the shouting of the firemen, plus the police sirens and spectators, Tally truly felt blind for the first time in a long time. She was forced to stop running and unfold her walking cane.
Where was her mystery man? It sucked that she didn’t have a way to contact him.
She knew she was about two blocks from her restaurant. Not having much choice, she found the nearest wall and put her back to it. Pulling out her phone, she instructed the device to call Tom.
He picked up almost immediately. “Tally, where are you?”
“About two blocks from my restaurant. I can’t get any closer, there’s too much going on.” She had a feeling she was shouting, but it was hard to tell with the vortex of noises all around her.
“I’m almost there. Maybe ten minutes. Stay where you are so I can find you.”
Tally’s chin trembled. She hated when she had to rely on someone else, but she didn’t have a choice. It wasn’t like in the movies where the blind person would unknowingly walk into the fire, but she had no hope of finding a police- or fireman to help her in this chaos. “I’ll stay,” she promised Tom. “If my guess is correct, I’m outside the pet shop down the street from my place.”
“I’ll be there as quick as I can.” She heard something in his voice that told her he was wishing she’d just stayed put outside her apartment. But how could she? She needed to do something .
Feeling antsy, Tally said in a trembling voice, “I need to call my dad.”
“Stay where you are,” Tom instructed. “Make sure he knows I’m on my way.”
Tally hung up. She was trying and failing to hold back her tears. The dial tone rang once before she heard her dad’s voice on the other line. “Daddy?”
* * *
Tally was gone by the time Scar made it back to her apartment with the little boy. Once he laid him down on her awful-colored couch, Scar checked the boy for injuries. He woke up briefly before passing out again. He’d have a good bruise on his cheek, but there was no blood. Scar placed one of Tally’s pillows under his head and then tucked the blanket around him.
He poured a cup of water from the filtered pitcher in her fridge and placed some crackers and cheese on a plate. Scar felt bad about leaving the boy alone, but he needed to get going. Gordon Tremont would likely be in one of two places at this time of night. If he wasn’t at the first, which was closer, it would take time for Scar to get to his penthouse downtown.
Once outside, he turned his head towards the glow of the fire. Instinct told him to hunt down the man who’d destroyed her business, the thing she loved most…so then why did he feel a pull to go to her? To… comfort her? To be with her ?
Scar shook it off. His place was not at her side. It never would be. He’d forgotten that these past two weeks, gotten distracted. And look what happened? He hadn’t seen this coming. If he’d paid more attention to what was going on around Tally instead of being captivated by Tally herself, he might have been able to prevent her restaurant from being burned to the ground.
He needed to make this right. Then he needed to get out of Atlanta and away from the distraction that was Tally Meacham.
* * *
Gordon Tremont owned a number of warehouses in the city. They were all under shell corporations, but that pyramid all led back to one man.
Scar had been doing a lot of digging into Tremont’s various pies. He was not as good or as fast as Keys, but he had connected Tremont to several specific locations throughout the city. What he didn’t understand is why those locations. They seemed random to him, but they had to be strategic to a man like Tremont. He wouldn’t spend millions on real estate that was useless to him.
Scar wished he was as proficient as Keys in solving the puzzle. He was better at the… bloodier aspects of an investigation. He didn’t have the patience to unravel such mysteries.
As he neared Tremont’s warehouse office, where he did his real business, Scar had to wonder why Tally was so different. Yes, she was intriguing and he admired her, but was that enough to have stayed his hand? He was only supposed to be in Atlanta for a few days. Take pictures, send them to Alpha. In, out.
He rolled his left shoulder, feeling a light twinge of pain. He’d been working on building up his strength again, but his shoulder was still weak. Fucking doctors. Scar had been so distracted by Tally that he hadn’t even stepped away from her long enough to get an MRI done of his shoulder and learn the true extent of the damage.
He was better than he’d been a month ago, but he still did not have full function back.
Despite the late hour, there was a lot of commotion on the warehouse property. Scar slipped into the gated area, avoiding the security guards and cameras. He made his way past all the trucks that were being loaded and the men shouting at each other to “hurry up”.
Scar saw crates of what looked to be electronics. Since Tremont did not own any electronic stores, Scar doubted very much that those electronics were legit, but that wasn’t his mission. He needed to find Tremont and then get back to Tally.
Guilt squeezed his chest uncomfortably. He’d left Tally alone to deal with the fallout of her restaurant being on fire. Scar had to close his eyes and mentally push that thought aside. It was not his place to help her with such things. He could never stand beside her and be the person she leaned on in a crisis.
That was not his place.
It never would be.
Tally belonged in the spotlight, making people happy with her food and astounding them with her abilities. Scar’s place… It was a much darker and more dangerous place, where ghosts and demons reigned. Scar’s soul was far too black to ever belong anywhere except the shadows.
It took some navigating to get up to Gordon Tremont’s office. Unfortunately, Scar did not find the man there, but a still-smoking cigar on the man’s desk hinted that he was on property. Either that, or one of his lackeys had been dipping his fingers in the boss’s supply of Cubans. From the smell, it was a Cohiba 55 Aniversario and Scar knew from Steel that those ran around three hundred per cigar. Steel had one in his office at the clubhouse that he’d never lit, a gift when he’d retired from the Marines. He still enjoyed smelling it and had offered Scar a sniff once.
Looking around the large metal building, Scar didn’t see that much activity inside. He headed out the back, thinking perhaps there was an issue with a shipment or one of the men that had pulled the boss away from his expensive cigar.
Floodlights lit up the dock area from the roof overhead. There was a loading area of about forty feet of black pavement between the warehouse and the fence line. Trees from the National Park surrounded the fence. They weren’t that far from the Chattahoochee River. If this past month in Atlanta had convinced Scar of anything, it was that he was much more comfortable in a small town like Mount Grove than he ever would be living in a city.
But Tally seemed to thrive in the city life.
Scar shook his head. Not that that mattered. Once he left Atlanta, he was never coming back and he would never see Tally Meacham again.
It didn’t take long for Scar to find Tremont. The man was wearing a three-piece suit in the middle of a warehouse loading area and lighting up another cigar. Either the one upstairs wasn’t his or he was lighting up another because he was too lazy to go back for his first.
“What’s the missus going to say ‘bout yous smokin’ again, boss?” The speaker had a very strong southern accent.
There were three men standing close to Tremont. Unlike the other workers who were wearing jumpsuits and boots, these men were in khakis and a polo. If Scar had passed them on the streets, he would have called them ‘salesmen’.
Tremont raised a trimmed eyebrow. “The day I allow a woman to rule my life is the day the universe can cut off my balls and make me the bitch in the relationship.” He hollowed his cheeks as he took a pull of the cigar. He blew the smoke up into the air. “Besides, I’m celebrating tonight.”
“Neo taking care of the restaurant?” Another man asked. He was smoking a cigarette.
Tremont nodded as he puffed on his cigar again. “I had hoped to take care of business legally, but the bitch wouldn’t relent. I was losing patience and, after my lawyers told me it wasn’t worth the hassle anymore, I told Neo to destroy the restaurant by any means.”
“You know that means he’s going to burn it to the ground?” the man with the cigarette asked. Based on body language, Scar put him as the one closest to Tremont. Not physically, but almost like a friend. He seemed comfortable with Tremont, despite him being the boss.
“Here’s hoping,” Tremont chuckled. Scar looked in the direction Tremont was staring off at but could only see the workers loading the trucks like bees gathering pollen. “My only regret is that he can’t burn the place down with the blind bitch inside because a murder investigation would hold up the sale even more. But fuck, that bitch was annoying.”
Scar. Saw. Red.
As the men all laughed at Tremont’s murderous remark, Scar stepped from the shadows. He drew two knives. Damn the cameras and damn the floodlights. Tremont would not be the only man to die tonight.
But he would be the last .
Scar’s blades took out the tendons in the back of Tremont’s knees to prevent his escape. Tremont’s spilled blood and screams of pain were the first of the massacre that followed. The three lackeys who’d laughed at the prospect of Tally’s death died slow and painful deaths on the pavement, their arteries severed or lungs punctured like a child’s balloon.
Other workers heard the cries of pain and came running. Some had guns, others had tire irons, and others had no weapon but their fists. Scar took them all out. Any who came after him, any who tried to defend the man who had wished Tally harm.
He was drenched in blood, but he kept fighting, kept slaughtering.
Tremont watched it all from his place on the ground, his useless legs unable to bear his weight to take him away. When he reached for a cellphone, a throwing star pierced the screen and took off at least two fingers.
When men tried to run, Scar gave chase. Pain did not register to him. If he was injured, he did not pay attention or allow it to slow him down.
Finally, the only man left breathing was Tremont. The pitiful man spluttered and pleaded for his life as Scar approached him, stepping over the dead bodies of Tremont’s men. His words fell on deaf ears. Nothing would prevent Scar from ending this man’s life, ending this threat to Tally.
Spotting a gas tank next to the side of the building, likely to top off the delivery trucks prior to departure, Scar felt a sense of poetic justice. Scar grabbed the handle of the gas nozzle and dragged the long hose over to where Tremont was now trying to crawl away on his stomach, using just his arms.
Scar didn’t try to stop him. Instead, he pulled the lever, releasing the potent smelling gasoline. He set the trigger lock to hold the lever open and dropped the handle to the ground. The fumes were heavy in the air as the liquid pooled, gravity pulled it along the pavement towards Tremont’s expensive loafers.
Spotting the man’s cigar he’d dropped when Scar had cut the ligaments behind his knees, Scar picked it up. He waited patiently for the gasoline to touch the soles of Tremont’s shoes before he tossed the burning cigar into the gas.
The man had gotten his wish that someone would burn tonight. It just wasn’t the ‘someone’ Gordon Tremont had hoped.
* * *
It was hours before the fire was out. As soon as Tom escorted her over to the police line and informed an officer that the restaurant’s owner was there, Tally was taken down to the police station for questioning. Thankfully, they allowed Tom to go with her, even though he wasn’t a lawyer or an employee. It was at the police station that Tally learned the fire marshal’s prediction that the building would not be a total loss. The interior was done for, everything except the brick structure.
But there was hope of rebuilding.
Tally felt like she was on the phone with either Simone or her father between every line of questioning by the detective. A body was discovered in the alley behind the restaurant, along with a black town car.
Fear gripped her that it was her mystery man until she learned that the man’s hands had been speared through and his throat slit. After that, she had no doubt who had killed the man. The question was why and if he had anything to do with her restaurant being set on fire. Additionally, where was her mystery man now?
She could not sense him anywhere. Would he have even followed her inside the police station? After her initial phone call to her dad, she was very surprised her mystery man wasn’t sticking to her more than usual. Wouldn’t her dad have ordered her bodyguard to watch her even closer now?
It was nearly seven in the morning by the time Tom and Tally were walking through her apartment door. The police had finally allowed her to go home. Should Tally be glad or offended that the police did not believe a blind woman could set fire to her own restaurant? At least, not without help? She could have done it. She didn’t—but she could have. The fact that the police hadn’t even considered her a suspect bothered her, which was messed up on so many levels.
Tally froze as she entered her apartment. She sensed the presence of someone but knew immediately it wasn’t her mystery man.
“What is it?” Tom asked from behind her, having nearly walked into her when Tally had stopped so abruptly.
Tally clicked her tongue, trying to locate the person. A small fearful gasp and tiny feet on her hardwood floor had her head turning towards her living room. Definitely not her mystery man. From the quick mental image she’d gotten of the person, they were short, like a child.
What was a child doing in her apartment?
Not sensing anyone else, like an adult, Tally called out, “Hello? I know you’re there. Come out please.”
Another gasp, this time more shock than fear. Then she sensed the boy standing up from his hiding place beside her couch. She kept her clicks low, so as not to startle the little boy. Because it was a boy. Either that, or a girl with really short hair.
“Jesus,” she heard Tom breathe out before hearing her apartment door close. “Tally, it’s a boy. He’s maybe six. Very thin and,” Tom lowered his voice as he added, “he’s very dirty.”
Tally had already guessed who the boy was from his smell, but Tom’s description confirmed it. “You’re the little boy who comes to my restaurant in the mornings for breakfast.”
The boy’s voice was small, “You know about that? But you’re blind!”
Right. She’d faked not knowing about it so she didn’t scare him off. “I knew,” she confirmed gently. “And I’m not mad. I was happy to feed you. What’s your name?”
He hesitated before answering, “Grayson. Is this your house?”
“Nice to finally meet you, Grayson. I’m Tally and this is my friend, Tom. He’s married to my best friend, Simone.” Tally approached her kitchen, not wanting to scare the little boy by walking into the living room. “What are you doing here, Grayson? How did you get into my apartment?”
“The man with the scar on his face brought me. The one who brought me some of your food.”
Her mystery man. Grayson had specifically said that he had a scar on his face . The one her mystery man had shown her was on his neck. He had another? And it was on his face? Recalling the feel of the ragged skin running horizontally along his neck, Tally could only imagine what he’d suffered through to have received it. And he had one on his face too? Had he gotten them together?
“What man with a scar?” Tom’s question brought Tally back to the situation at hand.
“My bodyguard,” she said offhandedly to Tom. He’d followed her into the kitchen. “He works for my dad.” To Grayson who was still by the living room couch, she asked, “Do you know why he brought you here?”
“He’s shaking his head,” Tom said under his breath.
“I saw the man start the fire. I wanted to tell someone, but he caught me.”
“Your bodyguard started the fire?” Tom’s voice was much louder this time, angry. Like Tally had done something wrong.
“No,” both Tally and Grayson said at the same time. “Another man,” Grayson told Tom. He picked something up off of the coffee table and started to nibble on it. Tally clicked her tongue, specifically at the table. Something glass came back at her. Sniffing the air, she got a whiff of cheese and something salty. Maybe crackers? She was too far away to tell. “He was dragging me to his car…so I bit him.” That last bit was said with shame. “He hit me.”
She felt Tom rush past her and heard Grayson’s feet scurry away. Tom stopped, standing just inside her living room. “It’s okay, son,” he said in a low, soothing voice. “I just want to take a look. Can you show me where he hit you?”
Tom was standing between Tally and Grayson, so she wouldn’t have caught the motion if she tried.
Helpfully, Tom said, “He hit you on your cheek? Can I take a look?”
Grayson must have nodded because Tom started to approach again. Tally walked forward too, wanting to be closer if Grayson would allow it. Despite the fact that she’d been feeding him for months, she’d never interacted with him before.
“It’ll bruise,” Tom said in that same gentle tone. “Can we put some ice on it, Grayson? It’ll help with the swelling.”
A very small, “Okay,” sounded.
Tally was going to go get it, but Tom stood. “I got it,” he insisted. “I want to get some towels and a cloth to help clean him up too.”
Tally nodded to her friend. “Thank you.” She walked over to her couch and sat. Grayson was over by her window and lounge chair now, so there was still a lot of space between them. “That was very brave of you, Grayson. Trying to stop that man like you did. But I wish you hadn’t. I’m sorry you got hurt.”
“You were easy to get food from,” Grayson said. “If your place is gone, it’ll be a lot harder for me to get food elsewhere.”
Her heart nearly broke at that. “Where are your parents, Grayson?”
“My mom’s in Heaven. I don’t know where that is, but Mrs. Pratt says she ain’t coming back. I don’t have a dad.”
“Who’s Mrs. Pratt?” Tom asked as he walked back into the living room.
“She’s the lady who takes me to different homes and comes to get me when I’ve been bad and puts me in a new home.”
Foster care , Tally deduced. “Is that where you live now, Grayson? You live with a new family?”
Tally heard the wet plop of something hitting water and then the droplets hit as it was wrung out. She assumed Tom was wetting a washcloth.
“I ran away,” Grayson told them. “I need to find Heaven and my mommy.”
“Aw, Grayson,” Tom said softly. “I’m sorry, but Heaven’s not a place you can find. We’ll need to call Mrs. Pratt and have her?—”
“No!” Grayson shouted. Tally heard something hit the coffee table and then the splash of water to her hardwood floor. “You can’t take me back! You can’t! He’ll make me get into his bed! I don’t wanna get into his bed!”
Tally didn’t try to approach her window, but she could tell from Grayson’s shouts that he had wedged himself between the back of her chair and the wall. The fear in his voice was very real, not that of a child scared of the monster under his bed.
“Who?” Tom demanded. “Who wants to put you in his bed?”
“Kyle! He’s their son! He tries to take my pants off and makes me get into bed with him! Don’t make me go back! I hate Kyle! I hate him!”
“Okay, okay, easy, son,” Tom coaxed. “No one’s going to make you go back there. Don’t worry. We’ll figure something out. Will you come back here so I can finish wiping you down? We really need to get you into a bath.”
Tally heard small shoes on her hardwood. They were tentative, little steps, but they were in the direction of Tom.
“You promise?”
Fuck, his little voice was so full of hope that it nearly broke Tally’s heart.
“I swear it,” Tom said with vehemence. “Why don’t you finish eating the cheese and crackers on this plate,” Tally heard the sound of ceramic touching wood and knew Tom had moved the plate to the end table closest to Grayson, “and I’ll go refill this bowl of soapy water?”
“I don’t want to eat them all now,” Grayson told Tom. His voice was closer, though, telling Tally he was no longer behind her lounge chair. “I don’t know where I’m going to get food now.”
“You will always have food,” Tom answered before Tally could. “You will never go hungry again, Grayson. Eat. I’ll refill your glass of water too.”
There must have been a cup on her coffee table that Grayson had already drunk from. That was the hollow glass she’d detected a few minutes ago.
Tally heard crunching sounds from the other end of the couch and was glad Grayson was eating. “Why do you keep making that clicking sound?” Grayson tried to mimic the sound she made to use echolocation and ended up spitting cracker crumbs at her. “Oops!”
Tally just shook her head, smiling. If Grayson was as dirty as Tom said, then she’d need to have her couch cleaned anyway. “It’s fine, and, yes, that’s how I see. My eyes are fake. They don’t work like yours do. I click my tongue,” she made the clicking sound again, “and it shows me what’s around me. Like a bat. The sound bounces off objects and it sends a signal back to me that something is there.”
“Cool,” Grayson breathed out. “If your eyes are fake, do they pop out?”
Tally laughed. “I can take them out.”
“Will you show me?” he asked excitedly.
Thankfully, Tally was saved from having to answer by Tom coming back into the room. “Okay, Grayson. Let’s get you cleaned up and then I want to take you back to my home with me. My wife, Simone, will feed you anything you want. I have a feeling once she sees you, with or without all this dirt on your face, she’s going to fall in love with you.”
* * *
Tally was getting really worried. It was early afternoon and there was still no sign of her mystery man. She’d been on the phone with the police and her insurance company most of the morning. The fire marshal had also stopped by just before lunch. He wanted to inform her that neither she nor an insurance inspector would be able to go into what was left of her restaurant until after he completed his investigation.
Tally also had to call each of her employees to inform them of the fire. Most were supportive and encouraged her to reach out if she needed anything. Those who were on salary, she promised to keep their salaries going as long as she could. That was in the hopes that she would be able to reopen one day and she wanted to keep her core staff as much as possible. Others who worked hourly, like Noah, were less than cooperative and demanded to know what the severance package would be.
It had taken a lot of convincing to keep her dad from dropping everything and coming down to Atlanta to help her. He demanded to know who the investigating detective was, likely with the intent to reach out and to remain apprised of the situation.
It had been over twelve hours since she’d gotten the alarm in the middle of the night and had told her mystery man to go ahead. Where was he? Was he hurt? Had he killed the man that had been found outside her restaurant?
With the addition of Grayson’s story, plus what she’d already known from the police, Tally was leaning towards an emphatic yes . Had he killed the man because of what he’d done to Tally’s restaurant or for what he’d done to Grayson?
And why did it not bother her that the man was dead?
After having a cleaning company come over to clean her apartment after Simone had called to say that Grayson had flea bites on him, Tally had showered and was now laying down in her bed. She wasn’t sleeping. Just trying to relax for a bit before having to get up and deal with the next crisis.
Her fingers kept tracing over the label her mystery man had printed for her the first time she’d cooked him breakfast. Not wanting it to go through the wash, Tally had taped it to the lip of her headboard so it was within arm’s reach when she laid down at night.
Tally knew the moment he was inside her apartment. She hadn’t heard the front door open or close, nor did she have any idea how he’d gotten inside. All she knew was that, suddenly, she was no longer alone.
Dragging herself up, Tally put on her bathrobe before exiting her bedroom. She hadn’t felt like putting pants on after getting out of the shower and was only wearing a tank top and panties.
The smell of detergent was still strong in her living room. Thankfully, she didn’t have carpeting in her apartment and neither she nor Grayson had been in her bedroom so the chances were slim that any fleas had ended up in there. She did not feel itchy or bitten, but she still purchased anti-flea and lice shampoo from the cleaning company.
Her mystery man was standing at her kitchen table. Earlier, she had found a laptop set up there. It was the first trace of himself her mystery man had ever left behind. She had his computer and backpack in her bedroom so the cleaning company didn’t touch it.
“Where have you been?” she demanded. “I have been worried sick . Do you have any idea what it has done to me to not know where you were? If you were okay ? The last time I heard from you, you were running off in the direction of my burning restaurant. I kept playing these stupid scenarios in my head that you’d gone running inside to save a fucking cat or something and the fire took you before you could escape.
“Yes,” she said quickly, though he hadn’t spoken, because of course he didn’t, “I am aware how irrational that is. It was more rational that you brought Grayson back here and this is where you’ve been, but then why weren’t you here when I got home? Why leave Grayson alone? Thank you for saving him by the way, and before you ask, Tom took him home. Simone’s been doting on him all day. I have no idea what’s going to become of him or where he’s going to go, and it wouldn’t surprise me if Tom and Simone tried to adopt him. But none of that explains or excuses where you’ve been.
“I don’t know if you can talk. Hell, I don’t even know your name. But please , please, talk to me? Tell me something, anything. Write it down. Use my phone. Do something. Talk to me. I am begging you.”
* * *
Others had begged him to talk in the past, some not so nicely. Scar used to use a Text to Talk app when he had to say something to the club. It shouldn’t have been that hard. Pull out his phone, text what he needed to, and then let the device speak for him.
It really was so simple.
So then why wasn’t he reaching for his phone? Why was it that he was so loath to have a machine talk to her in his stead? Why couldn’t he just be fucking normal for her?
Scar opened his mouth.
It had taken him a long time after Afghanistan to even open his mouth, to unclamp his jaw. When he’d been in the hospital in Germany, the doctors had had to sedate him to be able to clean his teeth after weeks of captivity and repair his broken tooth. When he still wouldn’t open his mouth, the doctors had been forced to put a feeding tube in him.
It hadn’t been until he’d killed the last terrorist that had kept him captive and killed his team that Scar had opened his mouth with the intent to scream. Only, nothing had come out. He’d meant to scream, but the action had been silent.
And when he’d found the traitor who’d sold his team out, Scar had made him scream in his place.
He could speak. He knew he could. But there was something there. Some blockage that would not allow him to.
I will not talk…
Air touched his tongue as he separated his lips. Of all the people in his life who’d asked him to talk, who’d begged him for something , he had never wished to talk more than he did in that moment. He wanted to talk for her .
Not because it would mean more to her, since she couldn’t see his facial expressions, and not because it would mean giving her a part of himself that he hadn’t given to anyone else in over a decade.
No, as Scar stared into Tally’s sightless eyes, he knew that it was much simpler than that. He wanted to speak because she’d asked it of him. Because it was Tally. Not José, not Harper, not Sissy, not Scotty, not Steel… Tally.
This beautifully amazing woman who had shared so much of herself with him and could be made to smile just because she sensed him in the room with her.
Scar took a deep breath and let it out, his lips and tongue making the motions of speech. But nothing happened. There was no sound, no words. His fists clenched in frustration. He needed to do this.
Even if just this once.
He had to speak. She deserved answers. All of them, everything. She deserved to know why he was there and what his true intentions had been. She needed to know he was leaving, that he couldn’t stay with her anymore. He’d figure something else out, some other way to keep Alpha at bay, but it wouldn’t be her. It couldn’t be.
Scar could not use her that way.
He wanted to tell her how much he admired her. How incredible she was. How much he longed to be worthy enough just to be able to take her hand in his.
He’d broken into a motel and showered after leaving the warehouse. He had some bruises, cuts, and scrapes, but nothing major on him. Yet the blood was still there. Invisible but just as red.
The window shattered. Before Scar could turn or move, with the intent to take Tally to the ground to protect her, something stuck him in his throat. Scar reached up quickly, pulling it out.
His vision blurred as he stared at the tranq dart in his hand. Tally!
Her face was turned towards the window as if she was still trying to figure out what had just happened.
Scar took a step towards her, but his leg gave out underneath him. He collapsed to the floor as the echo of her door being burst open rang out behind him. Tally screamed. Scar fought it, needing to get to her, but the tranquilizer was too strong.
His world went black.