Chapter 16
Clay’s POV
“Lucian, may I speak with you in private?” I asked quietly, trying to steer him away from
Scarlett’s line of fire, but he just looked at me, a storm in his eyes.
“Don’t try to talk me out of this, Clay,” he bit out, keeping his voice low but edged with anger. “This bitch could never be half the woman Stasia is. I’d be giving up everything if accepted the bond with her.”
He was livid, his pain and frustration boiling over, so I linked him privately. “She’s afraid of you, Lucian.”
“Good,” he replied through the link, cold and unmoved. “She’d better know her place.”
Turning his glare back to Scarlett, he unleashed his anger without hesitation.
“You ungrateful bitch. I buy you things you don’t deserve, and you can’t even say thank you. Instead, you sit there with that miserable scowl on your ugly face, acting like it’s your right, like it was your money that paid for it! Your father was a thief, Scarlett. He stole the South, took everything from the other Valkin Alphas and left them with nothing All this ‘inheritance‘ isn’t yours. It belongs to Clay’s and Maxwell’s families. You’re nothing but a charity case, and we’re the only reason your father’s enemies haven’t hunted you down. But I’m done. I’m done with your—”
“Lucian!” I cut him off, my voice sharp. I couldn’t let him keep tearing her down like this. The pain in her eyes was unmistakable, raw and deep, and she turned and walked out of
the room without a word.
“Come back here!” Lucian barked after her, though she didn’t stop. She’d had enough, and
I couldn’t blame her.
“That was too much, man,” I told him, my voice softer now. “She’s still in mourning.”
Lucian looked away, mist clouding his eyes. “I want her to feel my hurt, Clay,” he muttered, his voice wavering. The grief he’d been holding in since finding his sister and her children’s bodies had twisted into something darker. He was still that broken man, clinging to his anger because it was all that kept him from shattering.
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“Lucian, you’ve made your point. Calm the hell down,” I urged, trying to get through to him, to bring back the friend I knew.
Just then, Scarlett returned. She’d changed into the dress she’d first claimed she stole,
and in her arms, she held the bag of clothes and essentials Lucian had bought her. Wordlessly, she extended the bag toward him, her face blank, but the hurt in her eyes said it all. She was giving back everything he’d tried to give her, a silent rejection of both the
gesture and the treatment that came with it.
“I don’t need your charity,” Scarlett said, thrusting the bag into Lucian’s hands, her voice strong and unwavering. “I’ll wash what I was wearing and give it back when it’s dry. Find someone else who’s worth it and give it to them. And from now on, I demand payment for
e maid work I’m doing. I can buy my own things.”
ucian looked stunned, struggling to keep his composure. “I wouldn’t touch anything you’ve tainted,” he sneered.
“Then throw it away, or I will,” she replied coldly, turning to leave. But before she could take a step, he grabbed her wrist in a last attempt to assert control.
“Don’t you ever—” he began, voice low with warning, but Scarlett yanked her wrist from his grasp, stepping closer and looking him dead in the eye. She was dwarfed by him, yet in that moment, she exuded a power I hadn’t seen before.
“Or else what?” she challenged, her voice unwavering. “What are you going to do, Lucian? Kill me? Starve me? Humiliate me? Beat me? What, Alpha? Or else what?” Her tone cut through the air like a blade. “Why don’t you just go ahead and reject me already so I can have peace?” Her words hit hard, a brutal truth that seemed to disarm him completely.
Lucian’s face fell for a moment, but then he rallied, shouting, “Get the fuck out!” She turned and walked out of his room, her composure intact, and settled on the floor in the living room, staring blankly out the window.
Lucian stood silent for a moment, and then, with as much calm as he could muster, said, “Leave me, Clay,”
I nodded, giving him his space, and went to grab a warmer blanket and a sweater for Scarlett. When I approached her with them, she looked at me with defiance.
“I already have a blanket,” she said, her voice flat.
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“These clothes are for summer,” I explained gently. “You’ll freeze at night.”
She looked up at me, her gaze intense. “Maybe that would be for the best. Please, don’t
try to keep me warm this time,” she added, her tone colder than I’d ever heard. Her eyes
held something dark and unsettling. She wasn’t just angry or hurt–there was an edge of
resignation in her voice, a willingness to surrender to the cold if it meant ending this
misery.
lised, painfully, that we’d been pushing her to the edge without seeing the damage
done. She was broken, but not in the way Lucian had hoped. In our quest for control and revenge, we’d lost sight of her humanity, leaving her with nothing but the dark
comfort of indifference.
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