Chapter Thirty-One
Scarlett
Greyson’s distracted in the morning, but he’s also clingy. I’m starting to learn that the days when he demands I sit on his lap during meals and manually feeds me, bite by bite, are days when he’s stressed.
I used to abhor this ritual. I used to despise it, because I saw it as him robbing my agency from me and replacing it with his own—and that is what it used to be. He wanted to show me that he controlled me completely, down to when, how, and what I ate.
Now, I see it in a different light, because it is different. It’s not a power-play anymore. It’s his need to be a caretaker peeking through—it’s his need to reassure himself that he has me forever. I’ve inadvertently morphed into his greatest, if not only, support system.
And, to my surprise, I don’t mind it. I’m starting to find that I like it when he turns to me. It makes me feel important, even powerful.
“You need to eat, too,” I murmur when he lifts another forkful of an omelet to my mouth.
“I’ll eat later.” He prods the food at my lips; I part them, allowing him to treat me like a child. It’s not as infantilizing as I expected it to be, because I know that’s not how it’s meant—not these days, at least.
When he goes in for another forkful, I shake my head. “I’m full.”
His expression turns stony. “That’s not enough.”
I sigh. “Greyson, that omelet is twice the size I am. I’m a small woman. There’s no way I’ll be able to finish the entire thing.”
His eyes grow hooded as he stares at me. I blink, raising my eyebrows. “What?”
“I like it when you call me Greyson.”
I lift a shoulder. “You’ll always be Monster to me. But you can be Greyson, too.”
He smiles. “I like that very much.”
“I’m glad to hear it. Now, do you want to tell me what’s wrong?”
A blank mask falls over his face. I shake my head, frowning. “Nope. You want this to be a relationship. A relationship requires openness from both parties. If you’re going to shut me out, I’ll return the favor in spades.”
At that, he concedes with a sigh. “Alright. Your brother called me last night.” When I stiffen, he wraps both arms around my waist, resting his hands on my stomach.
“He told me that your father has moved positions—so either he knows we’re coming, or there’s dissent in his ranks.
I was up until five talking over new strategies with Max and Cain—and, these days, talking with Cain is not an enjoyable pastime for me. ”
I wince, recalling that horrible hour we spent in the annex. Cain stabbing Greyson, shredding his back with a whip…
“No, I imagine you wouldn’t enjoy speaking with him.” I swallow. “Will you… still be able to complete the operation in full? Take out my father and all of his underlings?”
Greyson nods. “I think so, yes. It’ll be tricky, but it’s doable. Your brother will help.”
I don’t know the full scope of my brother’s dealings, and frankly, I’ve never wanted to. He chose to be a part of the world that I ran away from… and inadvertently got sucked right back into.
I’m not sure how to feel about Eric taking part in this operation. On one hand, I’m pretty sure he’s not a trained assassin… on the other hand, I know he’s extremely well connected. If he says he can do something, he’ll get it done, whether by himself or with the help of various contacts.
I inhale a deep breath, nodding. “Okay.”
Monster strokes his thumb over my abdomen. “He wants you to call him—”
“No.”
“Scarlett. He sounded very apologetic—”
“No.”
“Damnit, Flower, listen.” Monster gives my midsection a warning squeeze, telling me without words to tread carefully. “Your brother is not a good man, but he is a decent one. He didn’t mean to hurt you when you spoke. He said things out of anger and fear, not sincerity.”
“My father’s a man with great deals of anger, too,” I snap. “I certainly have no intention of giving him a call.”
Monster releases a sigh that flutters the fine hair on my temples. “I think you know that’s an unfair comparison.”
His tone is filled with disappointment and warning, and it makes something inside me shrivel. I shrink into myself, which only presses me closer to Monster. He mistakes my gesture for something it’s not—submission—and presses his lips to my head.
“I won’t force you to call him, Flower. I’m not pleased with how he spoke to you, either. But I will say that I’d kill to have a phone call with my brother. Don’t take the only family you have left for granted, Scarlett. It never ends well.”
He has a point. It would devastate me if the last conversation I ever had with Eric was him talking about putting a hit out on me, and me shutting him out.
I’m still mad at him—furious, really—but…
I can’t leave things so sour between us.
Even if I only call him to tell him that I’m mad at him and need time, that’s what I’ll do.
Besides, I can’t exactly blame my brother for his concerns—they’re completely valid. The story I fed him was a bunch of bullshit, and left out all the details where Greyson tortured me, took my virginity like a beast, then fucked my mouth like a savage when he found me again.
This… softer turn in our relationship has been a recent development. Previously, I’d have killed to tell my brother to come save me. Now, I know if I do, I’ll only put everyone here—including Greyson and Max—in danger. I can’t do that.
Especially not when this place… when Greyson’s arms are starting to feel like home to me.
After Greyson’s shut himself in the office for the day, I sit on the couch with my phone in my hand, fiddling with it and procrastinating.
Luci’s curled up in my lap with his head on my knee, tail swishing back and forth along the bedspread.
My laptop is open in front of me, showing me all the information of the plants in the greenhouse, and I’m gazing at them blankly.
“Should I call him?” I ask Luci, scratching him behind his ear. “Should I speak to him or not?”
Luci releases a very loud purr in response; I sigh, deflating.
Yes, I should call my brother. He’s the only family I have left.
I’m mad at him for the way he spoke to me…
but he saved me years ago by getting me away from our father.
He saved me before that, too, when he was still in the house—I can’t count the number of times he took a beating for me.
I power up the phone and click over to my contacts. Eric has a number programmed in, but I don’t call that one—instead, I dial the number he uses on whichever active burner he has at the time. The one he had me memorize when he first helped me escape.
The phone only rings twice before Eric’s voice comes over the line. “What?” he demands.
I clear my throat, trying to ignore the anxiety buzzing around my chest. “Hey,” I say quietly.
There’s a brief pause over the line. Then, Eric says quietly, “Hey, Scar. Give me a second.” I listen as he says something muted, and then a door slams before he’s back with me. “Sorry about that.”
“It’s fine.” There’s an awkwardness between us that was never there before; an uncomfortable silence where we both don’t know what to say.
“I was a shit,” Eric says. “I said terrible things, and I meant absolutely none of them. I was just worried about you—I still am, but… I’ve spoken to that asshat.
He’s so in love with you it’s unreal; I can hear it in his voice.
If he treats you well, if he makes you happy…
” he trails off with a sigh. “Few places will offer you the protection that the Nighthawks will. So long as you’re content, you have my blessing. ”
“I don’t need your blessing, Eric,” I say softly. “I don’t need you to tell me what I can and can’t do. What I need from you is trust and support—trust that I do what’s best for myself, and support for my decisions, even if you disagree with them.”
Even if I disagree with them…
“I do trust and support you,” he grits out. “But, Scarlett, if I thought you were putting yourself in danger, I wouldn’t support you. I love you too much to condone that. However, I can see you’re not. Cain has assured me of your safety, and I’d be amazed if Greyson ever laid a cruel hand on you.”
If only he knew. I believe that Greyson would never hurt me, now.
Previously was a different story—but he thought I was a siren who lured his brother to his death.
From the moment he learned otherwise, he hasn’t hurt me.
The worst he’s done is force orgasms on me, which can be worse than pain…
but it isn’t pain. He’s stuck to his word.
“Does he make you happy?” Eric asks.
I furrow my eyebrows at the question. A few weeks ago, I’d have said he makes me miserable… but really, I was the one making myself miserable. My belief that he was the horrible man he’d shown me at first didn’t help, but things are different now.
“I’m more content here than I have been anywhere else,” I finally say, which is true.
I have a vocation here—the greenhouse. I have a man who is head over heels for me and will take the pain of death to spare me any harm.
This is much different than the life I might’ve imagined for myself, but there are certainly upsides to it.
“Then I’m happy for you.” Eric pauses. “And I’m sorry I couldn’t give you a life with that contentment. I’m sorry I failed to keep you safe… multiple times.” He inhales a deep breath. “And fuck, Scar… I am so goddamn sorry it took me so long to get you away from Luther.”
“It’s okay,” I say softly. “You did get me out. You did still save me. You still protected me. For that, I’ll forever be grateful.”
“I love you, Scar.”
“I love you too, Eric.” I pause. “I heard about Father. I understand you’ll be going after him?”
Eric pauses again. Sighs once more. “Yeah. He moved shop, so I’m going in for him with a small team. I’ll kill him, Scarlett. For you, for me…” I hear him swallow. “For Mom.”
Tears spark in my eyes. “Please be careful,” I beg. “Please. Dad is…” I shake my head. “I don’t need to tell you how dangerous and formidable he is.”