Chapter Twenty
Greyson
Ross is quick to give me all the information I’m seeking, once I have him pinned to a wall with my hand squeezing the life from his neck.
The fact that I wasn’t thoroughly briefed on Scarlett and given a plan of care constitutes a spectacular failure in our medical wing.
I understand that today was a complicated day, but that does not excuse the lack of communication.
After I’ve made it abundantly clear that Scarlett is my priority, therefore she should be everyone’s priority, I release the sputtering doctor and leave him to ruminate on his mistakes with a black eye and split lip.
I stop short on my way back to Scarlett’s room when I see Max hovering outside of it. He’s leaned against the wall, out of view of the doorway… almost like he’s protecting her. Like he’s her new fucking guard dog or something—like he wants to take my place as her defender.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” I demand.
“I’m here to see you,” Max responds. His features are drawn tight, and his posture is stiff, with his arms folded across his chest. “Eric is Scarlett’s brother.”
I feel my jaw clench. If I open my mouth, I’ll start shouting obscenities, so I settle for giving Max a terse nod.
“And Cain knew from the beginning.”
“Close to the beginning,” I say through gritted teeth. “He probably suspected from the start.”
“And his actions have led that innocent, beautiful girl to a world of pain,” Max goes on angrily, pointing a finger at the door of Scarlett’s room.
Beautiful? I glare at Max, breathing deeply through my nose.
It’s looking more and more like we’re going to have a problem…
because he likes Scarlett far too fucking much for my comfort.
As of this moment, Max is my closest ally and friend in the Nighthawks—which is the only reason I don’t outright attack him.
If I’m going to survive Cain’s psycho bullshit, I’ll need Max.
“Yes, they have, and don’t call her beautiful.”
“I’m not talking about her appearance—though it is stunning. I’m talking about her soul. It’s better than all of the Nighthawks combined.” Max releases a faint scoff. “It’s miles, light years brighter and better than leadership.”
“Yes,” I agree tensely. “It is. Now if you can stop talking about my woman with such protective notes in your tone, I’d highly fucking appreciate it. She isn’t yours to moon over.”
“I don’t give a shit if you don’t like it.” Max steps forward. “We have to protect her. From Cain, from the others who might carry out his cruel orders…”
“We?”
“We,” Max growls. “Don’t pretend that you can do it alone—it’s not a job for one.”
“Why the fuck are you so invested in her?” I demand. “She—isn’t—yours.”
“Because she’s good!” Max snaps. He points a finger at the door, glaring at me.
“Because the woman in there still has light left in her soul. Because she deserves to live, and she deserves at least some happiness and comfort—and if she doesn’t get it from you, I’ll make damn fucking sure she gets it from me. ”
“You’re talking like you want to get killed, Max,” I say furiously. “She is not yours to protect.”
“Then do a better job of it,” Max shoots back coldly. “I was the one who carried her off that field.”
My temper snaps. I know he’s right; I failed Scarlett today, and that gave Max room to weasel his way in and play savior.
I was off-site when the bombs started dropping, and I couldn’t get to her…
but he did. The reality that I might be facing a big fucking problem in my already-fragile relationship with Scarlett makes something inside of me crack.
I fist the collar of Max’s shirt and slam him against the wall, holding a forearm to his throat. Rather than shoving me off and giving me the fight I’m aching for, the fight I need after the shit day and night I’ve had, Max scoffs.
“I’m not going to fight you,” he says, his voice slightly strained. “You’re wasting the energy you should be giving her, you motherfucker. Stop failing her.”
“Get your nose out of my fucking business,” I hiss, practically vibrating with rage.
“She isn’t yours, and she never will be.
She’s my woman.” I release him with a shove, and his head thuds against the wall.
The bastard doesn’t even wince. “She will never be your anything. At best, you’ll be a babysitter—and, right now, I don’t know if I want you anywhere near her. ”
“Fuck you, Greyson.”
“Pass. I’d rather fuck my woman.”
“Go to hell.” Max starts walking away, but I can’t let him go. Not before ensuring that he becomes too distracted to focus any inappropriate energy on Scarlett.
“Max?” I call.
He turns to glare at me.
“You have one month to find your chosen and bring her here.” He and Cain can both go fuck themselves. This way, Cain won’t be able to leverage Max against me, and Max will be too focused on his task to give much thought to Scarlett.
Without giving the bastard a chance to respond, I slip into Scarlett’s room and close the door.
She’s resting peacefully in bed, her eyes closed, her hands buried in her demonic cat’s fur.
I can hear the creature purring even from across the room as he contentedly rests his head on her chest, right over her heart.
Scarlett must not be fully asleep, because she slowly blinks her eyes open and briefly glances at me. She lets them fall back shut. “Why were you yelling in the hall?”
Fuck, were we that loud? “Sorry, baby. Just got into a bit of an argument.”
She lets out a low hum, but doesn’t respond. She doesn’t open her eyes when I take a seat on the bed beside her and reach out, resting a hand on her shoulder, above her burn wound.
“Any pain?” I ask softly.
She shakes her head. “Nope. A dull ache and a weird throb, but no pain.”
“Good. Tell me if that changes, yeah? I’ll be getting a delivery of pain-killers shortly. Doc told me that you should only need them for about a week as the wound starts to seal over. Then, it’s another two weeks of healing—maybe more for the center of the burn.”
“Does that mean I won’t have to be your toy for the next month?” She asks the question in a dry tone empty of menace or resentment, which lowers my defenses a bit.
“Nice try, Flower, but no. I won’t play with you this week, but once I get the all-clear and your pain’s cleared…
” I lean forward and press a kiss to her jaw before moving to whisper in her ear.
“I’m going to tie you to my bed and fuck you all night long.
” Ideally, until she’s so filled up with my cum, there’s a solid chance it’ll stick.
She blinks her eyes open and fixes a half-awake gaze on me. “Maybe if you didn’t tie me, I wouldn’t resist.” Then, she’s out like a light.
Something in my chest ignites. I know she’s drugged up to the gills and exhausted after this shitstorm of a day… but I think I might’ve just made the barest inch of progress.
I’ll fucking take it.
Our routine changes over the following week.
I keep Scarlett in my bed, and though I reluctantly allow the demon-cat to stay in my apartment, I don’t let him in the bedroom.
Some nights, Scarlett lets me hold her while we sleep; others, we get into heated arguments that end up with her trying to leave the bedroom and go back to her punishment room—which she still adamantly refers to as the cell.
I don’t let her, but I do give her space when she’s angry, leaving her alone for a few hours.
I wash her carefully twice a day, take her to the medical wing every morning to get her arm checked, and studiously avoid interacting with Cain and Max—both of whom I want to kill. Cain more so than Max, but they’ve both earned a place on my shit-list.
The one interaction I have with Cain over the next seven days is when he tracks me down in the dining room, while I’m waiting for my breakfast order by the kitchen.
He asks me what gave me the right to order Max to move forward with claiming a woman; I tell him that outranking Max is what gives me the right, and remind him that he’s the one who instated this bullshit, so now he’s going to need to watch it play out on multiple fronts.
He tells me he’s expanding Max’s timeline to three months, threatens me to stay in my lane, and storms off.
I let him go. I have no interest in engaging with him unless absolutely necessary. Right now, any time I don’t spend working goes to Scarlett.
Progress with the woman in question is slow, but existent.
She seems to have taken my words and my insistence that her giving us a chance is for the best to heart.
I don’t think she’s made a decision—there’s still nearly constant resentment in her eyes—but she’s no longer fighting me every moment of every day, just for the sake of fighting me.
Glimpses of her personality start emerging.
She’s sassy down to her core, without a doubt, but she’s also a nurturer at heart.
Despite my fears, I let her convince me to take her back to the greenhouse, where I watch her tend to her plants with such care and affection it’s jarring.
I see the same thing with her cat; the way she coos at him, cuddles him, and treats him like he’s an angel rather than a demonic furball.
My fears regarding Eric finding out Scarlett’s location, and that she’s here with me, loom closer—but nothing happens yet.
I don’t ask Scarlett about Eric, either.
I’m not sure what I’m waiting for; perhaps for her to be fully healed, perhaps for the right time…
though there doesn’t seem to be a right time to bring up the fact that her brother is the Nighthawks’ greatest ally.
How do I tell her that her options are to fall in love with me or live out her life as a hostage?