Chapter 17
Scarlett
Whelp, he’s finally gone and done it. Ash has snapped.
Bohnes is soft-clapping. Alexei is covering his face with a handkerchief, smirking as he dabs a bit of red spray off (oh, and also gagging while smirking which is an odd sight).
Widow has a tight, strained expression, caught somewhere between gratitude and…
a grim half-smile? His amber eyes shine with recalcitrant appreciation.
He lifts those savage eyes to mine, tongue flicking out to taste a bit of red on his lips. Savoring it. A minute ago, he was on the verge of a panic attack. Not anymore. Ash’s righteously inflicted retribution has soothed Widow in ways words and a comforting touch couldn’t.
I thought the Ash/Widow relationship was not easily salvageable, that it was something that would take time to build. Years. A decade. A lifetime.
This is, um, well it’s somethin’ else. That’s for sure. I’d enjoy it more if I didn’t feel this deep urgency to leave.
Maryanne dying though? That’s too tempting to pass up, even if I would like the guys to start weaning off the murdering thing. We’re living a clean life after all this. The more bodies we leave behind, the harder it becomes. Some deaths are inevitable though.
“Bravo,” Bohnes says, sounding awed. Barefoot and sexy, black ink bones scrawled over his pale skin. He’s stolen my abandoned tea and is sipping it with a delighted grin. “Absolutely bravo, Mr. Kelly. My opinion of you has changed virtually overnight.”
I give Kellin a wry look.
He just pegged a woman in the temple from twenty feet away with a teacup and knocked her unconscious.
I’m a little impressed. I’m also a little worried about Ash.
A lot worried about Ash. Worried about Widow, too.
Wondering how it’s even possible that Alexei is still sitting calmly in this filthy room with us.
There’s blood everywhere now. He even has a stain on the front of his white hoodie.
Alexei’s eyes, they’re on Ash, more concerned with this development than his own comfort.
“Thank you,” Widow says to Ash, sounding perplexed but genuine. A bit dazed. I’m rubbing his back. Rubbing it. Me. The things his aunts said to him though, I would kill them myself if Ash wasn’t so invested in doing it. Holy shit. “I’m still not sure why you did it…but thank you anyway.”
“She had it coming,” Ash whispers in a low, frantic sort of voice, like a demon is speaking through his bonny little mouth.
Ravishing. Also, something I need to get under control.
He absolutely cannot be allowed to roam free.
He’s desperate to be collared by me. “But I am relieved that you enjoyed your present.”
What do we do about this fucking mess? The practical side of me says arson.
“There are pieces of Maryanne all over your damn pants, Ash.” I gesture at him, dropping my hand from Widow’s back only when I’m sure that he’s stable.
Seemed at first like Maryanne might trigger his trauma, but he’s smirking now, too, so I guess not.
There’s a reason I refer to them all as fuckboy psychos.
“Go rinse. Get changed. Pack a bag and fetch your frog.”
Ash rolls his head around on his neck, loose and lazy and clutching the sword.
“Who else do you need dead?” Ash stabs at the corpse with the end of the blade, over and over and over again.
Blood splashes everywhere. Covering the fancy white marble floors.
It’s obscene. Not as obscene as his eyes though.
Obscene and insane and obsessed. He whips that bloodshot gaze over to me, lips parted, red dripping down his cheek.
“Tell me, Scarlett. I’ll take care of them all.
If you’re not worrying about potential outcomes, you can use me more efficiently. ”
His laughter tells me all I need to know.
He’s fucking lost it. I kept waiting for it, but here we are.
Good to know that we’ve timed our psychotic breaks to fall in line with one another.
Tragic soulmates, that’s what Ash and I are.
Everything would be better, easier, if we’d never met.
If the Kelly family hadn’t come to Springfield, Lemon would still be alive.
If I had to go back in time and make that choice, I’m not sure that I could.
Ash is more loyal to me than Lemon was. I hate to admit that. I wish it wasn’t true.
“I will always be worried about potential outcomes involving you, Ash!” I shout at him, stomping through the blood and grabbing him by his naked shoulders. Ash retaliates by pushing me into the wall and kissing the shit out of me. He keeps that dripping katana held in his right hand.
With his left, he brushes the tips of his wet fingers along the side of my jaw, a grisly finger painting on my face.
There’s longing in his kiss. In his touch.
His tongue is demanding, at odds with the image of him on his knees earlier.
It’s like he’s tasting my vigor, licking up my confidence, eating my fury.
I kiss Ash back. Blistering. Bruising. He gasps against my mouth and tries to pull away.
My hand is on his jaw now, mirroring him.
I grab harder. I am not finger-painting.
No, I’m scratching his already scratched face.
Marking him like property. Forcing him. Making him taste all these feelings that he’s the source of.
I smile against his mouth, my right hand cupping his crotch and coaxing a bulge out of him. My lips move over Ash’s face, nibbling. I hope my teeth sting a little. There are two dead people on the floor, Scar. Your bare feet are in a pool of blood.
“Get it through your thick head, Fuckboy Two. You’re coming home with us,” I purr.
Biting onto his lip, nicking him with my canine.
Ash’s expression is prescient, like he can see the future.
Can see himself suffering and dying no matter what I do.
Such a martyr. “Not sure where home is now since you torched mine, but we’ll get that sorted after we torch yours. ”
I pull away and he leans in. Two of my fingers to Ash’s chest stop him in his tracks.
We’re panting and glaring at each other, mouths shiny with other people’s blood.
“You can kidnap me if you’d like.” Ash sniffs, all British-y sounding.
“But you’re taking an enormous risk by doing so.
You’re risking more than yourself, Scarlett.
You’re risking Bohnes, Widow, and Alexei.
Your crew. Nisha and Bastian. Am I worth all that?
It’s not too late to change your mind and leave me here. ”
I don’t so much as blink at him.
“If I sacrifice the people I love indiscriminately, then I stand for nothing. Then there’s nothing to protect.
I’m just another run-of-the-mill selfish Prescott bitch.
I want to be better, Ash. I want us to be better.
” I latch onto his biceps and he flinches.
“You’re the riskiest decision I’ve ever made.
But you know what? Nobody ever got ahead by playin’ it safe.
If you’re so worried about being a burden, earn your keep. ”
Widow, Bohnes, and Alexei are watching us like this is theater. I’ll have to get used to it, spending my time with all four of them together. It’s us against the world at this point. There’s no going back. We’ve passed the point of no return.
Ash stares at me with all-black irises. His eyes are wounded, and his mouth is this plush, envious thing. I want to top him so badly. I want him to say dirty, fucked-up things to me in Japanese. I want to brush his hair back and tell him that everything is going to be okay.
He’s not with me because he’s useful or because he’s crazy or because I feel sorry for him. It’s not that I want to fix him. It’s that I saw from moment one what nobody else sees.
Ash is a sweet, gentle thing. My sweet, gentle thing.
Before I get a chance to say that aloud (eww, feels), Ash surprises me again.
“Come with me. I’ll get you Lemon’s ashes.” Ash drops the weapon on the floor, leaving it to clatter. His dark eyes are absolutely wild. I didn’t expect him to say that. Lem.
He walks away suddenly, bloody footprints on the floor. My fingers trail off his arms and fall limp by my sides.
“You good?” I ask Widow, turning to him and finding his attention back on his aunt’s dead body. He lifts his eyes to mine again.
“Yeah.” His voice is scratchy, but his pleasure is evident. I can see the hardness of his nipples through his bloody purple t-shirt with the faded band logo across the front. Did he get off on the killing or the kissing? Both? “I’m good. Just be careful around him.”
I snort and start after Ash, weaving around the plushy furniture and past the empty fish tank. Wonder what the story is there.
“Not a fan of you wandering off in this house,” Bohnes calls. I flip him off with my upside-down cross.
“Not a fan of being rat-fucked by my own fuckboys during a race,” I respond cheerfully, lip curling as I throw a look over my shoulder.
I catch sight of him with the teacup held tight and a fancy bone-etched pinky extended.
Ah, yes, Kellin’s highborn manners in full effect.
“When I say sit, when I say stay, you say yes mistress.”
Bohnes’ eyes flash, and his teeth clench around a retort.
Ooo, yea. Get angry, baby. I want to lick that rage right off your skin.
I smirk, exiting the room before he can reply.
As I go, I gesture with my chin for Alexei to follow.
We’re going to send Jonas a little message after we abduct his only remaining son. I’ll need the Borisov brat for that.
“Murdering Maryanne was nice and all,” Widow begins as I move down the hall, his voice fading behind me. He’s going to end up as Ash’s umbrella against the world. He just doesn’t know it yet. “But I still don’t trust that rich boy motherfucker.”