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“Merry sent a letter threatening to kill Scarlet. A very detailed letter.”
Bar falls silent, his whole body going unnaturally still. The bond goes silent, hidden again.
“Scarlet is safe now. Away from us.” Taylor explains. “She’s safe. But we’re not.”
My omega shuts down, folding into himself, withdrawing into the shell he’s been since the attack. The sparkle goes out of his eyes, his face leeches of colour, and he wraps his arms around himself. He just fades away.
I reach for him, but he moves away, not allowing me to touch him.
Barren trembles and lifts his cold, empty gaze to Taylor. “Tell me everything.”
twenty-nine
Scarlet
The first few days are a blur of pain, misery, and trying to control the feral need, the insane rut that I’m in. The bond calls to me, a soft presence almost ghostlike, a gossamer thread in the back of my mind.
Their words keep me away from him.
It’s more effective than I want to give them credit for. But the ingrained self-doubt that I have yet to extinguish has resurfaced.
I start running again, hoping to see him, them on the trail. I spent hours staring down at the manor, waiting, hoping for a glimpse. It looks deserted, but everytime I panic, I see a flicker in a window, and I know they’re still there. My phone rings with calls from private numbers at all hours of the day and night, and I answer, never knowing who’s on the other end but terrified to not because it might be him. They never speak, so neither do I.
Today is the day. It’s been seven days since I’ve seen him. Seven painful nights. I’m giving myself this last moment before I force myself to move on.
I stare down at the manor. Replaying all those memories, waiting for someone to come out.
I catch movement to the left of me and turn my head, seeing a large man, one I don’t recognise, walking up the hill, away from the manor, but he’s not on the path. He reaches the trail, still not seeing me, and instead of getting on it, he looks both ways and cuts across.
He’s got a pair of binoculars around his neck. They stand out because they bounce against his chest.
I hold myself still and then whip my head back to the manor in time to see Acton walk out to the gazebo. I instantly forget the other man. Acton goes inside and puts his hands on the railing and leans. He looks like he has the weight of the world on his shoulders. I watch him and will him to look up and see me, even though I know it’s impossible.
“Enough, Scarlet. Let them go.”
I turn away and scent flowers, the kind of floral smell you get in public toilets. It twists my stomach, and I realise I’ve smelled it before.
What is that?
I investigate the area and find a note pinned to a tree with a nail that’s rusted. I pull it free, my skin prickling all over.
You can’t have them.
I go back to my cottage and sit on the edge of my bed, letting my mind go numb and allow myself to think with no purpose. I reach into my kitchen drawer and pull out the three hand-written notes I’ve found in the cottage in the last few days. They all say the same or similar.
You can’t have it. It’s mine, and I will kill you if you keep trying. I wasn’t sure what it was before, but I’m thinking it might mean the pack.
By midnight, I’ve come to three conclusions.
Something else is going on here. Something I’ve obviously missed.
It has to do with that strange man and that floral scent. My cabin break ins. My missing belongings.
The third is that I need to go back to the city where I belong.
I crawl into bed and lay there until dawn. Like I’ve done so often these last seven days.
I spend the next week slowly packing my belongings and getting the cabin safe to survive another few years of neglect. Each day that I promise myself I will leave, I end up making excuse after excuse.
