Chapter Six
Greyson
Ihear Scarlett’s sobs long after I close the door to her soundproofed cell.
Her tears satisfied some part of me—I like knowing that getting in her head is as easy as making her drink a cup of fucking tea—but her cries.
Fuck, her noises of sheer helplessness and agony.
They niggled at my inner protector, a part of me only Scarlett has the power to awaken.
I wanted to pluck her out of that room and put her in my bed, hold her until she calmed down and accepted me.
But I know that progress between us will take much more than just holding her close and showing her affection.
I set a timer on my phone for three hours. Enough time for any lingering haziness from the drugs to wear off, enough time for Scarlett to be alone before I return. Soon enough, she’ll look forward to my visits—whether or not she wants to. Isolation does incredible things to the human psyche.
In the meantime, I have shit to do.
I make my way down to the dining hall and place an order with the chefs. Then, I join my unit at our usual table.
Dinner is a combination of organized chaos and rowdiness in HQ. Every Nighthawk has his usual crowd he sticks with, and mine is comprised of the unit Cain poached from Eric nearly a year ago, along with Max.
Toby, the green-eyed tech genius, is absentmindedly cutting up a steak while staring at something on his open laptop.
He barely glances up as I take my seat at the table.
Bryan, the ex-marine, is far more vigilant of my arrival; he removes his attention from his plate and stares at me, silently asking if I need anything.
I give my head a slight shake, and he returns to eating.
Elijah, the army brat who was spec-ops for a few years, offers me a smooth wave.
It's only Max who addresses me directly. “How is she?”
“As fine as can be expected. Have you killed the cat?” I entrusted Lucifer—an apt name for such a hellish creature—to Max’s care. When Scarlett’s earned the cat’s return, she’ll get to see him; in the interim, I don’t want to deal with the angry furball.
“Jesus, Greyson, no. I haven’t killed the cat. Lucifer really took to Greg, though Luci’s probably always going to hiss at me whenever I get too close.”
“What kind of dipshit names his dog Greg?” Elijah asks, arching an imperious eyebrow at Max.
“I was hungover,” Max mutters.
“That, or you have an even lower IQ than most of the guys in my old unit,” Bryan quips.
“Will you ever let that shit go—”
“Greyson.” My name isn’t spoken by any of the guys sitting at my table with me; it’s uttered by the motherfucker sitting on his throne. I exhale a long breath and glance over my shoulder. Cain crooks a finger at me, beckoning me over as though I’m a member of his court.
Which I am, I suppose. Everyone here is. Cain runs a tight ship and demands obedience, but he’s not unnecessarily cruel. Not like Boyce was. I still hate the prick, but I respect him enough to work for him.
Besides… it’s not like I have much of a choice.
I abandon my seat and approach the dais, giving a mock bow to our king.
Cain stares at me head-on. “I heard you caught your chosen.”
“Word travels fast around these parts,” I remark.
“Nothing happens here without my knowledge. You’ll do well to remember that.” Cain tilts his head to the side. “What’s the plan?”
“I’m not going to kill her, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“I’m aware. I still need to hear a plan, even if it’s loose.”
“Plan’s simple.” I cross my arms. “Train her. I’ve been over the specifics with Max.”
“Timeline?”
“Six months. Maybe a year.”
Cain shakes his head. “Too long. Make sure she’s ready for trials in three months.”
Three months. The back of my neck prickles, and intuition niggles at my gut. “Why the compressed training period?”
“It should be more than enough, if you do your job well.”
Not with our history. “You didn’t answer my question. This has something to do with your chosen, doesn’t it? You want Scarlett to be properly settled to set an example for the poor girl you’re going to bring here for yourself.”
“My affairs are not your concern.”
“Right back at you. You have no right to stick your nose in my business. I do my part, and I go above and beyond. The least you owe me is the agency to deal with Scarlett on a timeline that works—”
“I owe you nothing,” Cain hisses, leaning forward.
“Nothing, Greyson. You are my subordinate, and you will obey—or you’ll deal with the consequences for disobedience.
Your little Flower looks particularly lovely, though a bit malnourished.
It would be a shame if any unintended… harm would befall her. ”
I drop my arms, fists clenching by my sides. Cain’s crossing a line by threatening Scarlett, and he knows it. I’ll take a lot of shit from him, but she’s off-limits.
“You touch her, I’ll kill you.”
“Have her ready in three months, and I’ll have no cause to touch her.” Cain jerks his chin. “Go. Get to work.”
“One day, you’re going to regret abusing my friendship,” I warn him, and he will.
Cain holds himself apart from everyone… and that’ll eventually come around to bite him in the ass.
I have no doubt he’ll need help when he finally gets his hands on his chosen, but he won’t get it here. Not with the way he’s acting.
“We’ll cross that bridge when we get there, won’t we?”
The three hours trickle by at a glacial pace.
When the timer on my phone finally goes off, I navigate my way back upstairs, a tray of food balanced in one hand, and make my way straight to Scarlett’s temporary quarters.
She’s sitting on her bed, cheek resting on her knees, which are drawn up to her chest. She looks phenomenally vulnerable and confused, but the moment I enter, fire sparks in her eyes.
That’s my girl. She won’t make this easy for me, and I look forward to breaking through her pesky resistance, slowly but surely.
“Have some good time to think, Flower?” I ask mildly.
“What are you hoping to achieve?” she demands.
Her mood has seen no improvement in her few hours of thinking time; she’s looking at me like she wants to poison me all over again. The metal chair I left in front of her bed is still there, so I take a seat in it, setting the tray on the bedside table.
“In this moment? Getting some meat back on your bones. In the future? You’ll find out.
” I pick up the plate with cubed and seasoned chicken, surrounded by sauteed vegetables and a piece of fresh pita bread.
I had little time to do research on Scarlett once I found her—I was too eager to get her back in my possession—but Toby found out everything there is to know about her.
Including her favorite lunch order from a Mediterranean hole-in-the-wall restaurant near the lab where she worked.
Scarlett glares at the food, glares at me, then turns to glare at the wall. “I’m not hungry.”
“Don’t be a child,” I say harshly. “Starving yourself is not an option. Being unhealthy is not an option. If I need to tie you to the bed and have a doctor insert a feeding tube, that’s exactly what I’ll do, Scarlett. You don’t want to fucking test my mercy.”
“What mercy?” she asks quietly. “You’ve never shown the capacity for it.”
“You not waking up chained was mercy. If you keep being a brat, that will change very quickly.”
Her jaw clenches and her lips purse, but my threats must get through. She reaches for the plate of food, but I pull it back. “Uh-uh. Open.” I lift up the fork to her lips.
My small, beautiful little Flower snaps. She slaps the fork out of my hand, sending it clattering to the ground with an unappetizing splat. “Go fuck yourself!”
I sigh. Shake my head at her with a look of genuine disappointment.
Then, I set the food back on the nightstand, and pounce on Scarlett.
She’s so shocked by my sudden movements that she barely has time to fight; I have the cuffs stowed in my pocket out and around her wrists, holding them behind her back, before she can manage to do any harm.
She lets out a furious screech as I close the metal around her wrists and immobilize her hands behind her, wriggling around like a feral animal.
I take a seat back in my chair and watch her writhe around for a while. Listen to the curses she calls me, the vows to see me dead, the declarations of hatred. I let her have out her little tantrum, waiting patiently for her to tire herself out, like she always does.
It only takes a couple of minutes. She rolls over onto her back, then awkwardly manages to sit up, facing me with a look of sheer fury. “I fucking hate you.”
“I know you feel that way… now.” I reach for the plate again.
“If you try to interfere in me caring for you, that’ll end with consequences.
This is your first example of that. Some days, you’ll have a bit of agency; others, you’ll be reliant on me for everything.
When you’re in this room, you have no agency.
Resisting will only make things harder for you.
” I tear off a piece of the warm pita bread, use it to scoop up some tomatoes and a few small cubes of chicken, and hold the food up to her lips. “Be a good girl and open.”
Her jaw clenches with stubbornness.
“Do you think I won’t get a doctor up here with a feeding tube in twenty minutes?” I ask flatly. “You’ve done a shit job of looking after yourself in our time apart; I will not let you deteriorate any more. Eat.”
I can see the gears whirring in her mind as she weighs her options. She can keep being a brat, and things will get really bad for her, or she can comply and deal with the lesser of two evils.