Scarred (20 page)

“My love, you insult me. Did I not honor you just last night?” he said, his wicked eyes flaring. “An honor which you have rejected, I see.”

“I don't do water,” she purred. “I'm a fighter, not a swimmer. If you wish to honor me, let the girl go and we'll end this for good. Just you and me.”

“Interesting. A
trade
? You would trade yourself for Peyta?”

“I would do what's necessary to get her away from you, yes.”

“But how could I trust you, love?” he said, pulling ever so slightly away from Peyta. “No, I think the terms of the bargain will stand as they are.”

Let me out!

“It's not a good time for that,” Scarlet whispered, lowering her head. The attempt at privacy was completely in vain given her current company. Only two people in the room wouldn't hear her.

“Not a good time for what, love?” the Rev asked curiously.

“
Ruby
would like a word with you.”

I have an idea...

Scarlet sighed for dramatic effect or out of annoyance; I didn't care either way. I had a scheme that was just crazy enough to potentially work. If it did, Peyta would be safe and the Rev would be dead. If it didn't, then either the stalemate would stand, or I would be toast.

“Do I even want to know?” she drawled, making me realize that I was an irritation to her in that moment. She was too focused on killing the Rev to enjoy my interjections.

I just need to get some space between Peyta and the Rev. If I can manage that, then you can shoot to the forefront and kill him before he ever catches onto my plan.

“I think not, Ruby.”

You need to trust me...

“Let her speak,” barked the Rev, clearly feeling a little left out.

“I'm not inclined to let her do so,” Scarlet replied, staring him down.

“Perhaps she has something helpful to add to this situation.”

“That's what I'm afraid of,” she muttered under her breath, before letting out a growl to let me know exactly what she thought of me and my idea.

“Do
not,”
she whispered low and warning, “let me down in this, Ruby, or I will never trust you or your judgment again.”

It was never comforting when I knew those around me didn't have faith, but when my internal roommate didn't, it was especially disheartening. Begrudgingly, she relinquished control, leaving me to make good on my word.

I prayed I could.

“What about a trade for
me
? Me for Peyta,” I propositioned, meeting his devious eyes. “Let her go and you can have me.”

The hands that restrained me slowly let go, dropping one at a time—except for Sean's. I turned to see a flash of emerald in those raven eyes, and I squeezed his hand gently, signaling him to let me go too.

“I love you,” I whispered to him as I walked slowly towards the Rev, “but I have to do this. There's no other way.”

He said nothing in response—he didn’t have to. His actions only hours ago said everything there was to say. He was a private man and would not have shared his sentiments in that venue, but the pain on his face was an image I'd never forget, and I knew if my plan failed, his grief would be unbearable.

All eyes of the PC were on me: some stunned, others confused, a few still hateful. You just couldn't win with some people. The Rev, however, was looking at me with a deep curiosity. I imagined he was trying to figure out what angle I was playing—how I was going to trick him. He was right to be concerned, but I had my own reservations with the plan. I'd only once influenced another werewolf, and I had no idea how I'd done it.

I knew my empathic powers had allowed me to speed Cooper's healing back in Utah, during a glitch in our escape plan, but I didn't know if I could influence the conscious mind. It was a big limb I was going out on, and I desperately hoped that it could hold me. If not, the situation was going to get a whole lot more complicated in a hurry. My ace in the hole was the connection that Scarlet and I already had with him. I had no idea how it worked, but I was betting my life that it had something to do with my gifts, and was hell-bent on showing the Rev that turnabout was fair play.

“You for Peyta?” he asked, face still hovering over her neck.

“Yes. Doesn't that seem
fair
?” I asked, throwing every ounce of agreeable energy I could his way. I was determined to sweet talk my way out of there come hell or high water.

For the first time since we'd arrived at the house, he completely raised his head and stood upright, pulling away from Peyta.

“Perhaps it does. But it's not
you
that I want,” he said, a look of consternation taking over his face.

“Isn't it?” I asked, radiating sex and power until his face flushed with the rush of it. “Scarlet and I are trapped in the same body, but who do you think is in charge?” I asked, sashaying towards him. “
Scarlet
? Better think again.” I watched as his grip on Peyta lessened ever so slightly. The boys saw it too. He was coming over to my side, but I needed to sweeten the pot further. “You know what that means, don't you?” I asked, baiting him. “It
means
I'm the only one that can give you what you want.”

“And what do you think that is?”

“Scarlet, of course.”

“How?” he asked, licking his parted lips ever so slightly.

“Like I said, I run the show. She eventually gets on board with whatever it is I want, and I want Peyta and Ronnie safe at any cost,” I offered, sprinkling the obvious into my offer to make him suspect my motives less. “
You
want a mate.
I
want them alive. It's a fair trade.”

He was visibly torn. His hands shook with the possibility of Scarlet's power being tied to him. It scared the shit out of me, but I reminded myself that wasn't going to be the outcome of my stunt. Not if it went well, anyway.

“What about them?” he asked, eying the PC. “They won't let us leave. You're expendable. They'll kill you to get to me.”

“Not a chance,” Sean boomed over my shoulder. “Anyone harms her and they die. That includes
you
, Rev.”

“Interesting,” he purred. “You seem to have quite a way of charming the men around you.”

“I tend to get my way,” I replied coyly. “Do we have a deal?”

“Yes,” he said, loosening his grip on Peyta. “I believe we do.”

“Then let her go,” I ordered, thrusting my authority at him. I was only a step or two away from him, and I wanted Peyta on the other side of me. The
safe
side. Everything was coming together perfectly. Scarlet paced wildly inside me, while Peyta stumbled a few steps to get beyond me. I closed my eyes just as Scarlet surged to take over. She would finally get to end it all.

But she never got the chance.

14

Just as she was about to come out and play, a pain shot through my head.

He snatched her hand, yanking her towards him as she fell to the ground. He cradled her head in his lap, threatening to rip it off if anyone came near him. Improvisation was his new game plan.

He rummaged for something in his coat, keeping a tight watch on the men that surrounded him―he was smug, but wary. He knew that without leverage he didn't stand a chance. His hand emerged with something small from his pocket, and he smiled down at his palm as he admired it. Arrogance permeated the air as he lifted her hand and slid the tiny platinum band onto it. He smiled with self-satisfaction; she'd never even known he'd taken it that first night he'd come to her.

Her complacency would now bind her to him forever.

There was a snarling in the background that finally got his attention. One man dared to approach, screaming
his
love's name. He would enjoy tormenting that one, and brought his mouth to her throat, surrounding the tissue that housed her left carotid artery.

“She is mine now,” he told the bold man. “You will let us leave or she dies. If you follow us, she dies.”

He enveloped her hand in his, securing the ring, and scooped her up into his arms before leaning into her ear and whispering, “You are mine forever.”

“
NO
!” I screamed as I scrambled to get out of his iron grip. I'd seen Sean lunge for the Rev, just as I faded from the vision that held me captive. In a fraction of a second, he was on us, throwing me aside, out of harm's way—or so he thought. The PC was in a frenzy, and I struggled to avoid being trampled in the melee.

My efforts were to no avail.

A familiar set of hands dragged me out from the mob and pulled me to safety.

“Ronnie,” I tried to say, but it came out garbled and wet sounding.

That's what happens when you're choking on your own blood.

I felt no pain. That
should
have been the first sign that there was a big, big problem—that and the look on Ronnie's face. The pallor of her skin and the shaking of her hands finally alerted me to the severity of the situation. I was apparently in bad shape.

Sean had violently thrown me from the Rev, landing me on the coffee table and more specifically, the glass pyramid-shaped adornment sitting on it. It punctured my back right through the spine before I rolled off of it onto the floor, where I lay helpless until Ronnie pulled me out of harm's way.

“Ruby,” Peyta sniffled as she knelt beside me, “I'll fix it. I promise.”

I tried to grab her hand to comfort her. My arm didn't move. I tried to turn my head to see her better. It didn't move either. I couldn't get my ring off myself, or tell them to take it off. Neither Ronnie nor Peyta knew anything about its Scarlet-binding powers, and right about then I needed her to come out and do some serious self-healing.

The battle raged on the far side of the room, but I couldn't move to see it. I choked as I tried to yell for Sean, who found his way to my side instinctively only moments after.

“It's not working,” Peyta cried. “I can't heal her!”

“It's okay,” he comforted as he worked the ring off of my limp hand. Scarlet emerged, but didn't move.

“Jesus,” she gagged, able to speak a little. “This is going to take a while.”

“Can you move at all?” Sean asked. She wiggled her fingers weakly.

“It's not terribly impressive,” she replied, “but we're on our way.”

“Peyta,” he said, calmly, “keep trying. Sophie could heal her. You can too.”

“I'll try,” she said, placing her hands on Scarlet.

“Ronnie,” Sean called. “Come with me. I have a
proposition
for you.”

Able to turn her head minutely, Scarlet slowly swiveled to see the PC holding an extremely beaten Rev. His body, though fully capable of healing, was covered in cuts
and
bruises. It was clear that the PC had some unresolved feelings to take out on him.

“What?” Ronnie asked with hostility. It was all bravado. Scarlet and I both could feel her unease with Sean staring her down; we totally sympathized.

“Would letting you put a round of silver slugs into him buy all of us your continued silence in Underground matters?” he asked, business face in full effect.

Whether it was through Peyta's healing or her own, Scarlet was able to partially sit up with Peyta's aid and turn enough to face the crowd. With further assistance, she forced herself to stand unsteadily, directly across from the Rev.

“Take it, Ronnie,” she told her. “Sean will get what he wants one way or another. I suggest taking the easiest path.”

Ronnie eyed Scarlet, regarding her with distaste, but respect.

“I'll be right back,” Ronnie called, leaving the room, right hand flexing. I knew what she was headed for. “You have a deal,” she shouted from the hall before reentering the room carrying an all too familiar Glock. She was loading it with her “special” clip.

A shrill cry from the Rev snapped our collective attention back to him. He must have been getting uppity, so one of the boys dislocated his left shoulder, letting the arm dangle uncomfortably for a moment before snatching it up into what should have been an anatomically impossible position. The brother on the other side of him must have been a sucker for symmetry. He recreated the likeness on the right.

“Will there be anything left intact to shoot?” Ronnie asked, popping the safety off her firearm.

“You know where to aim?” Sean asked respectfully.

“Not my first time,” she replied flatly. “Won't be the last.” Her eyes narrowed on Sean as he escorted her closer to the Rev; there was no sense in wasting good ammo. “Peyta,” she called, her back facing her daughter. “I need you to go outside.”

Peyta didn't budge. I felt her mixed feelings about what was about to happen. She'd never known her father, and, again, the small child within her longed to have her chance. That longing started to override the knowledge that her father was a crazed killer.

“Scarlet,” Ronnie sighed, eyes pinned on the man who was once her husband. “Take her outside.
Please
.”