Grievous (Scarlet Scars #2)(48)

“I’d be happier if I had my daughter, Kassian.”

“I am sure you would be,” he says. “Only, you do not want me along with her. No, you seem to have decided you want him.”

Him. Lorenzo.

I know that’s who he means.

“It’s not like that,” I whisper.

“Tell me what it is like then,” he says. “Is this what you want? Does your little scarred plaything make you feel like a woman? Does he take you into his bed and fuck you as you cry? Does he tell you how beautiful your tears are? Does he make you feel safe in his white house with this cute little picket fence around it? Do you feel at home here, pretty girl?”

Coldness rushes through me. Sickness swells in my stomach, bile burning my throat as those words hit me. Oh god.

I exhale shakily.

He described the house.

“I just want to know if you are happy,” he says quietly, “because if you are, I am going to very much enjoy dragging you out of this fucking place and taking you back home with me.”

A loud chime echoes all around me. I flinch, gasping, dropping the phone as panic floods my system. The doorbell. That’s the first time I’ve ever heard it. Nobody even bothers to knock here.

The clicking of high heels trails through the downstairs, heading in the direction of the front door. No. No. No...

Shoving up from the floor, I run out of the bedroom, screaming, “Don’t open it! Melody! Oh god, get away from the door!”

She turns toward me, startled, but it’s too late. It’s too late. Her hand is on the knob and it’s already halfway open before she realizes what I’m saying. She tries to close it again, reacting fast, but he’s much faster. Much, much faster. Something slams against the door, shoving it open the whole way, nearly knocking Melody down as she stumbles a few steps, barely managing to stay on her feet.

Her eyes dart to the door, her voice loud, defensive, as she says, “Excuse me, can I help you?”

I freeze on the stairs, halfway down, my feet unable to move anymore, everything inside of me screaming to go the other way. Go back. Retreat. Run, motherfucker. Run away from him. I could sprint upstairs, make my way out the window, climb onto the roof, maybe even get away from here.

But I can’t. I can’t move. I can’t run.

I blink, and he’s there, standing in the foyer of Lorenzo’s house. He’s dressed impeccably—straight black suit, hair slicked back, shoes glistening as the light hits them. Melody’s too shocked to react right away. She gapes at him as he smiles, stopping just inches from her, his eyes raking her body from head to toe. His gaze stalls at her feet, at the red heels, and he lets out a light laugh, the sound nearly buckling my knees, before he looks back up again.

Common sense kicks into Melody, or maybe it’s just a healthy dose of fear, because she takes a step back, putting a bit more space between them.

It’s not enough.

It’s too late.

He’s too damn fast.

He grabs her before she can run, his thick tattooed hands wrapping around her throat, squeezing, stopping her dead in her tracks. Melody grasps his arms, his hands, trying to rip them away as she struggles, eyes wide with terror. His grip is so strong he lifts her up, onto her tiptoes.

“Kassian!” I cry out, the sound of my voice drawing his attention. His gaze darts my way, gliding along the stairs, his eyes meeting mine.

He loosens his hold on Melody just enough that she can breathe, but he doesn’t let go entirely, no... instead, he swings her around, making her stumble as he drags her to him, her back against his chest. One hand stays on her throat, gripping, while his other arm wraps around her, his hand resting against her stomach, keeping her pinned there.

She struggles, trying to break free, but he’s unwavering, unrelenting.

“Morgan,” she whispers, voice trembling, tears filling her wide eyes.

“Just... relax, okay? Stay calm,” I tell her, my eyes turning to Kassian again as I say, “You’ll be okay.”

His smile grows.

I hope like hell I didn’t just lie to her.

I take a step further down, and another, and another, holding my hands out in front of me in surrender, because I know he doesn’t trust me.

Not now.

Probably not ever again.

I broke any chance of trust when I ran.

“You do not look happy, pretty girl,” he says, scanning me. “But you do look comfortable.”

I’m very much aware I’m not wearing pants. The goods are covered, but not by much. I really don’t need that pointed out right now. This is painful enough to deal with.

“Tell me, does he fuck you in front of everyone? Does he let them see the things he does to you? Does he like to watch?”

“Kassian, can you just—?”

“No!” he shouts, his anger echoing through the downstairs of the house, as he grips Melody tighter, cutting off the air to her lungs. “Answer me. Now.”

“He doesn’t,” I say right away. “He hasn’t.”

Kassian loosens his hold on Melody again, but he’s clearly furious, so I don’t know how long this is going to go on before he actually chokes her.

“Can you let her go?”

“Why should I?”

“Because she has nothing to do with this.”