5 Scarlett
“Broken Girls are easier to Control.”
I don’t want to believe what I just heard.
I started waking up a few minutes ago and was about to sit up when I heard voices coming from the kitchen.
Harper. Asher. And what sounded like two other men discussing my father and grandfather.
Every part of me wants to believe they’re wrong.
How could my father do something like that to me?
But another part of me already knows the answer.
Because if I’m being honest, my father has never truly been there for me.
After my mother died, it was always Clara taking me to ballet lessons, aerial dance, shopping trips, charity events…
all the things my dad should’ve been doing himself.
The realization makes me sick. Because if what they’re saying is true, then Clara probably knows exactly what’s happening too, and somehow that hurts almost worse.
For years, I tried not to blame her for the way Celeste treated me.
Part of me even blamed myself instead. I was the one who excelled at everything.
Dance.
School.
Music.
Aerial silks.
The better I got, the crueler Celeste became.
It’s why I eventually quit almost all of it.
Not because I stopped loving it, but because every achievement seemed to make my life worse.
I wait until the conversation in the kitchen quiets before finally sitting up slowly on the couch.
The movement immediately catches Harper’s attention.
“Oh my God, Scar!” she practically yells while vaulting over the back of the couch. “How are you feeling? Are you okay? Does your head hurt? Tell me exactly what happened and whose ass I need to beat.” The questions come so fast I barely have time to process them.
“Easy there, Tempesta,” one of the unfamiliar guys says dryly. “The girl took a hit to the head. She probably has a headache the size of your ego.”
Harper gasps dramatically.
“My ego is perfectly reasonable, thank you very much.”
Despite everything, the corner of my mouth twitches slightly.
I glance toward the voice and immediately realize he has to be one of Asher’s brothers.
He has the same dark hair, tan skin, and striking features, though whereas Asher looks sharp and dangerous, this brother feels calmer somehow.
Softer around the edges, still intimidating, but less… lethal.
“How you are feeling, Red?” Asher asks quietly as he comes over and kneels beside the couch.
He hands me a couple pills and a cold Pepsi before setting a plate of food down on the coffee table in front of me. The second the smell hits me, my stomach growls loudly. Heat rushes to my cheeks.
“Sorry,” I mumble awkwardly. “I guess I’m a little hungry.”
Declan chuckles softly.
“Just eat, sorellina,” he says. “We’ve got some things we need to talk about.”
He gestures toward himself.
“I’m Declan, and the scary one standing over there pretending not to care about people is Roman.” Roman rolls his eyes but gives me a small nod.
He definitely feels older than the others.
Where Roman seems more relaxed and sarcastic, Declan carries himself like someone constantly assessing every possible threat in the room.
All business. Somehow, despite barely knowing any of them, I feel safe.
It is a weird feeling; I should be scared.
These three men are all extremely terrifying at first glance but something deep inside me tells me I can trust them.
“Asher…” I start quietly, but he cuts me off first.
“Red, I know we talked about this last night, but after what happened at school today…” He drags a hand through his dark hair, looking oddly nervous for someone who usually seems so controlled. “Fuck. I’m bad at this.”
“Jesus Christ, just spit it out already,” Harper says dramatically. She turns toward me and gestures around the room.
“Scar, you’re officially moving in with the Touch-Her-and-Die Society. Your house isn’t safe, Celeste is a walking true-crime documentary waiting to happen, and honestly? I’d rather not lose my best friend.” She nudges my shoulder.
“For the record, you own way too many cute clothes for me to emotionally recover if you die.”
A laugh escapes me before I can stop it.
“Well, I’m glad my wardrobe is your main concern.”
Harper grins unapologetically.
“But seriously…” I sigh, looking back at Asher.
“We already talked about this last night. I barely know you guys. Yes, technically Asher has saved my life twice now, but I can’t just move in here. All that has happened in Twenty-four hours, it doesn’t even feel real.”
Declan steps forward then, his expression calm but serious.
“Scarlett, I think my idiot brother should’ve started with the important information first.”
“Wow,” Asher mutters dryly. “Love the support.” Declan ignores him completely.
“I know Asher told you we work for our older brother Grant. He owns an investigations and security firm.” His tone turns more professional. “But it’s not your average security company.” He folds his arms across his chest.
“Our teams are made up of some of the best former military operatives, intelligence analysts, and tech specialists in the country. We handle investigations, private security, cyber intelligence… things most people never hear about.”
Harper’s eyes widen slightly.
“We protect high-level clients,” Declan continues. “Politicians. CEOs. People with enemies.”
Roman smirks faintly from where he’s leaning against the counter.
“Think Secret Service,” he says casually, “except with a lot less government oversight and a lot more flexibility.” Declan shoots him an annoyed look.
“What my brother means is—we operate in morally gray areas when necessary.”
That probably should terrify me. Instead, weirdly, it doesn’t.
“Your grandfather’s attorney hired us,” Declan says gently. “He’s an old family contact. He suspected something wasn’t right at the Vale estate after your grandfather passed away.
My chest tightens.
“He tried reaching out to you multiple times,” Roman adds, his relaxed demeanor fading slightly. “But somehow every call got intercepted or redirected through your father.”
“That’s when he brought us in.”
Silence fills the room.
“Thank God Asher was already here when everything happened,” Roman says quietly. “Because otherwise, sweetheart, your situation could’ve ended very differently.”
A shiver runs through me.
Everything over the last two days suddenly crashes into me all over again. The attack…. school ….my father….the lies. The possibility that my entire life has been manipulated without me even realizing it.
“I…” My voice cracks slightly. “I don’t even know what to say.” I pull my knees against my chest and rest my forehead against them.
“I think I’m still in shock,” I whisper. “Everything happening these last few days feels so insane that part of me keeps expecting to wake up and realize it was all just some horrible nightmare.”
The couch shifts beside me.
“Asher…”
I look over to find him sitting next to me.
“Hey.” His voice softens immediately. “I know this is a lot. “He glances briefly toward his brothers.
“And Declan explains things like a damn FBI report, so ignore his delivery.”
“Hey,” Declan protests. Asher rolls his eyes before looking back at me.
“The point is… none of us want to see you get hurt again.”
His hand gently wraps around mine.
“I already arranged for your things to be packed up and brought here tomorrow.”
My eyes widen instantly.
“You what?”
“Stop, just listen and don’t get mad.” A small smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth.
“You can decorate the room however you want. Paint the walls. Burn sage. Fill it with books. Move Harper in. I don’t care.” His expression turns serious again. “As long as you stay.” Something in his voice makes my chest ache.
“Because I can’t consciously let you walk back into that house after what happened,” he says quietly. “And I have a feeling your father won’t exactly love the idea of me sleeping over there every night to protect you.” His fingers tilt my chin upward gently.
“So, from now on, Red… you don’t go anywhere alone.” My breath catches when he rests his forehead lightly against mine before brushing away another tear sliding down my cheek.
“See what I mean?” Harper whispers dramatically from the couch beside us. “Touch. Her. And. Die.”
She fans herself.
“So, fucking hot.”
I choke out a laugh despite everything, and for the first time in days, the crushing weight on my chest eases just a little.
The next day was a little easier. School passed mostly without incident.
People still whispered and stared whenever Asher and I walked through the halls together, but one cold look from him usually shut them up instantly.
He had that kind of presence about him; dangerous, controlled, the kind that made people instinctively step back without understanding why.
When we got back to the house, I realized Asher hadn’t been joking about moving me in.
Not only had movers packed up my entire room, but they had also somehow recreated it here almost perfectly.
The second I stepped inside, emotion hit me hard.
I push open the bedroom door and stop dead in my tracks.
The room looks exactly like mine at the Vale estate.
Not similar.
Exact. For a second it honestly steals the breath from my lungs.
Soft cream walls wrapped around the massive bedroom while warm golden lighting glowed from elegant sconces and crystal lamps placed throughout the room.
Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the woods behind the property, but sheer ivory curtains softened the darkness outside, making the space feel safe instead of isolated.
A large ivory upholstered bed sat against the far wall beneath a stunning chandelier that cast soft reflections across the ceiling like scattered stars.
Every single one of my bookshelves had been rebuilt perfectly.
Rows of fantasy novels, collector editions, and worn paperbacks lined the walls exactly the way I had arranged them back home.
My little trinkets and figures sat in their proper places like someone had carefully studied every detail before recreating it.
Even my reading corner had been restored, complete with my oversized cream chaise lounge tucked beside the windows with the same soft knit blanket draped over the side.