Page 94 of Last Man Standing

“And I wish I wasn’t weak and dumb.” I sniffle and drop my gaze. “There were so many opportunities after I met Roy where my path could’ve been different. If I’d been braver just one of the times he was unkind, instead of bending. If I’d walked away one of the dozens of times he discarded me, instead of begging him to let me back in. If I’d said no the first time he hurt me⁠—”

“You don’t get to be sorry for someone else’s actions, Scar.”

“No.” I swipe my nose and loathe the longing and dread both swirling in my belly. Because Sebastion prowls one side of his room, like a caged lion preparing to pounce. An angry panther ready to strike. I see myself repeating cycles already, keeping secrets, compounding problems, and yet, I yearn for him to cross the room and come to me anyway. To touch me. To hold me. Even if it’s only temporary. “I don’t have to be sorry for the things Roy did,” I murmur shakily. “But I can hate the consequences. The ripple effect exists, Linc, even if I was a victim to his bullshit.”

“Scar—”

“If I’d never dated Roy, or if I’d walked away much, much earlier, we wouldn’t have done to him what we did. If we hadn’t done that, Richard wouldn’t have had ammunition against you. And if he didn’t have ammunition⁠—”

“I wouldn’t have met Nova,” he cuts in gently. “If I’d refused that last job, I wouldn’t have met the woman I intend to marry. Not only that, but it’s entirely possible she’d be dead, just like her brother. Just like her parents. If I’d never met her, I wouldn’t have met Tank. And I’ll kill you if you ever tell him I said this, but I actually kinda like the prick.”

I cough out a tearful giggle and kinda wish our call was on speaker for just that one sentence. So Sebastion could hear my brother’s grudging words. “I might have to tell him,” I tease. “Maybe. Depends if doing so would benefit me.”

“Pain in my ass,” he chuckles. “I’ll deny it.”

We allow the call to fall silent for a moment, though I know my time is ending. Sebastion Jameson is not a man to be ignored for long, and his pacing brings him closer. Closer. Closer.

“Is he treating you right, Scar?” Linc’s voice is soft. Reluctant. “Besides his bitchy mom blasting you and his kid brother hounding you. You’re okay, right? Fed, safe, happy?”

“I’m…” Frustrated. Confused. Scared. I glance over my shoulder and lock eyes with my keeper. “I’m fed,” I repeat. “Safe. Happy.” Then, quieter, “Eager to come home.”

“Yep.” Like my words ignite a new fire in him, Linc audibly jumps up from wherever he was seated and strides through a room I suspect has hardwood flooring. “I’m working as fast as I can, I promise.”

“Okay.” I swallow the annoying lump in my throat. “Guess I should let you get back to it, then.”

“I’ll call you again tomorrow, okay? It’s an important day, after all. Can’t let it pass without at least talking.”

I scoff. “Speaking of keeping secrets. Might keep that one close to my chest.”

He snorts. “You would. Alright.” He passes through a secure door that opens with a beep. “Love you, Scar. I’ll text you later, maybe.”

“Love you, too.” Nerves pulse heavy in my veins as I pull the phone from my ear and end our call, and though I don’t turn to him, I feel the tether on Sebastion’s control snap.

“What’s the problem, Princess?” He grabs my jaw and wrenches me around, leaving me no choice but to fold my neck back and meet his eyes. “What?”

“He’s found this guy who⁠—”

“No.” He squeezes my chin and forces my lips into a duck pout. “Not him. You.”

“What?”

“Last time I was in this room, you were mine. To touch. To taste. To fuckin’ savor. But then I take a shower and come back to this.” He releases my face and snags my hand instead, tightening his grip when I attempt to do as I did before. “That,” he snarls. “I come to you, and you pull away. I want to hold you, and you become slippery as fuck. What happened in the five minutes I was gone? What did your brother say about me? Because I want a chance to defend myself.”

He said he liked you! He just doesn’t want you to know it yet.

“It was nothing he said.” I twist out of his grip and turn away. “There’s nothing to defend.”

“I beg to fuckin’ differ.” He charges after me and grabs on again. His grip is tighter. His fingers, bruising. He whips me around so fast that I risk falling. But he doesn’t allow it. Of course he doesn’t. He catches me against his chest and wraps his arm around the small of my back. “You were hot and pliable and all mine.” His eyes drop to my swollen lips. “Now you’re about as cold as the first day we met. Clearly I⁠—”

“No!” Frustrated with us both, I slam my hands to his chest and push back. “Not you, Sebastion. Me!”

“You, what? What, Scarlett? Let me in to your fucking head and give me a clue, because I’m lost, and for once in my life, I’d really like not to be.”

“I’m vulnerable!” I shove away and put half a room between us before I turn back again. “I’m exactly the same person I was when I met Roy Daniels!”

His brows pull tight and meet in the middle. “What?”

“You know my secrets,” I groan. “You know my weaknesses. You know I’m exposed right now, and that I’m running from something else. We have a clear power imbalance: physically, emotionally, and financially. Geographically, I’m on your turf with no way out. My brother trusted you to take care of me, but here I am, getting naked with you. Did I tell him?”