Page 22 of Savage Protector

Yes. Pretty well. Hiding with a woman whose very presence unlocked every dark impulse I used to think was beyond me. My control was at an all-time low and getting worse by the heartbeat.

I needed to hurt something. Someone. I was going to explode if I didn’t.

“I better go,” I announced after another minute of torturous small talk, promising to call soon. “One more thing. Don’t tell Dominic we spoke. Can you do that for me?”

“Of course, honey.” She knew better than to ask why, after more than thirty years married to my father. We ended the call on a somewhat pleasant note.

I then spiked the phone off the wood under my feet, relishing the way the plastic shattered, wishing there was more I could break if it meant venting my rage. I wouldn’t use it anymore, anyway—there were several in the car. It was never safe to use the same phone for long in a situation like this.

I hadn’t known seething, burning rage like this in far too long. I had forgotten what it felt like.

How all-consuming it was.

How good it felt.

How energizing.

If I weren’t careful, all of the work Jack had put into shaping my future would go to shit. Before much longer, the darkness would consume me.

10

SCARLET

The tile floor is hard, unforgiving. My body jolts when I land, the impact slamming through me and making my joints scream in protest.

What did I do this time?

I watched the change come over his face. Watched his eyes go hard and empty. Saw his expression turn stony before his mouth twisted in an ugly, hate-filled snarl before he shoved me hard enough to send me sliding across the foyer floor.

“Who the fuck do you think you are, looking through my mail?”

The mail. I only stopped at the box to pick it up. I didn’t even sort it or throw away anything that looked like obvious junk. I left it in a neat pile on the table to the right of the front door after coming home from shopping. “I didn’t touch anything!” I whimper, throwing an arm over my face when he stomps my way.

“What did I tell you about my privacy?” He takes hold of my hair and pulls my head back so he can scream in my face. “Didn’t you learn last time?”

My body goes numb.

He’s going to hurt me.

He’s going to like it.

“No! No, no, stop!”

“Scarlet!”

“No! Get off of me!” My fist made contact with something warm and hard, unyielding, like silk-covered granite. I pounded against it again and again, but it was no use. I had to get away. I was an animal, panicked, screaming, and clawing. I had to hurt him before he could hurt me. Again.

“Scarlet! Goddammit, stop!”

It wasn’t Dominic’s voice shouting at me now. This voice was different—deeper, stronger, resonating through my ice-cold body. Slowly, so slowly, reality began to seep in once again. Like smoke sneaking in from underneath a door. A dream. A vivid dream, a memory, but it was the past.

Not now. Not this moment, a moment in which I sat up in bed in a dark room with a pair of strong, powerful hands holding my arms to my sides. Hands that shook me briskly, hard, but not violent, but enough to wake me fully from the thick, foggy sleep had wrapped me in.

It wasn’t Dominic holding me. It wasn’t Dominic now leaning in, searching my face, demanding I shake off those wretched words still ringing in my ears…

“You stupid bitch. Who do you think you are? Do you know who I am? Do you know what I could do to you?”

“Grayson?” My voice was an ugly croak after all that screaming. My protector, my savior, and I had blindly attacked him like a feral animal. “Oh my God. I’m so sorry. Did I hurt you?”