“WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU JUST SAY?!”
My grip on Colt’s neck tightens as his smug green eyes go wide and his mouth goes agape as he tries to suck air into his lungs, clawing at my hands to unlatch the hold I have on his throat. Finn and Lincoln try to pull me away, but they are no match for my rage. It’s only when Colt headbutts me in the nose that I flinch, loosening my grasp on the prick.
Blood trickles down my face as I let Finn pull me back, leaving Lincoln between me and my target.
“If you talk about my mother that way ever again, you’re done, asshole!”
Colt has the decency to look ashamed as he rubs at his throat, my fingers leaving their mark on him. “I was kidding. Fuck, East. You know I didn’t mean any disrespect. Naomi is one of the good ones.”
I scrutinize the asshole and see he is telling me the truth. He just can’t help being the heartless prick that he is, uttering whatever fucked-up thing crosses his mind.
Lincoln pulls me away and sits me on the bed, while Finn grabs me a wet towel from the bathroom. It’s only now that I notice Stone is nowhere in sight. And neither is the laptop. When Finn returns, I ask him where his girlfriend ran off to when I was losing it.
“Someone needs to see the video in its entirety, East,” he explains, embarrassed. “We figured you’d prefer Stone doing it rather than one of us.”
Right. Because who knows what other message is in that fucked-up video.
“What do you need?” Lincoln questions urgently at my side.
“I need every last fucker in The Society dead. That’s what I need.”
“I promise you’ll get your revenge.”
“Will I? Because, so far, they are the ones holding all the cards.”
He lets out a long exhale, running his fingers through his golden locks.
Colt stands next to the door, keeping a safe distance from me, just in case I lose my temper again. Finn, however, grabs my leather jacket, taking a seat on the other side of me while handing me a cigarette. He hates it when I smoke, but right now, he knows I need something else to pollute my world instead of the filth it’s infested by.
“You know what this means, don’t you? They are going to make that video viral, and everyone in Asheville will see it,” he mumbles, dispirited, feeling my pain as if it were his own.
“My mother will be humiliated.”
“I think that’s their intention,” Lincoln chimes in, just as torn up.
“Don’t fucking hit me or anything, but this shit has to be said. If it isn’t your stepdad on that video, then we are looking at more than just a bit of social embarrassment. Price will divorce her. He’s too proud not to,” Colt explains, his full brows apologetically scrunched.
“It’s Richard. I’d bet my life on it,” I deadpan.
“Still, East. We never see his face, so there will be plenty of people who will say otherwise.”
Fuck. He’s right.
Even if Dick is on that fucking sex tape, the speculation will be too much for his ego to take. Not to mention the harm it will do for his image and his company. He might love my mother, but his biggest priority has always been his work. If this gets out, who knows how he’ll react.
“Why are they going after her? Why her?”
“Because of how you’re reacting right now. She’s the one that will bring you the most amount of pain if messed with. You’re right. They do have us by the balls. And after Finn not following through with their demands, we should have expected they weren’t going to play nice the second time around.”
“The fuck do they want from me?”
“Isn’t it obvious, East?” Lincoln questions, comfortless. “The letter said for you to show yours in exchange for theirs. It’s a tradeoff. They want Scarlett on camera.”
“It’s either her or your mom, brother. You just have to figure out who will live down the shame better. Once that shit hits the web, it ain’t ever coming down. It will be out in the world forever,” Finn chimes in. He goes to his haunches in front of me, squeezing my knees while staring me dead in the eye, sadness dwelling in his. “It’s your call. Who are you willing to protect? And who will be fed to the wolves?”
“Why are you even asking him that? Who gives a fuck about the pastor’s niece?” Colt questions, incredulous.
“Easton does. Don’t you?” Lincoln interjects saddened.
Finn answers his question with a nod, confirming his suspicion that Scarlett means more to me than being just another target for The Society.
But that was before they went after my mother.
“No. I got this.”
I feel their skeptic gazes burn through me, but the thing they don’t realize is that my mother has suffered more than I will ever have to endure in two lifetimes. I won’t allow her to be subjected to this type of humiliation—to have her world fall apart so ruthlessly.
Not again.
If I have to condemn my heart to protect my mother, then so be it. Scarlett will never forgive me for it, but I always knew I’d end up ruining her. I just never imagined it would hurt this much.
To protect the woman who gave me life, I must destroy the one who gave me hope.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.” I seethe through gritted teeth. “They want a sex tape? Then I’ll give them a sex tape.”
Chapter 20
Scarlett
The knock on my dressing room door pulls an instant smile on my face.
Easton.
It’s been a week since I last saw him. He hasn’t been to class or anywhere on campus that I know of. It’s not an easy thing to admit that I wanted the Dark Prince of Asheville as much as I did, or that I’ve felt his absence so vehemently. Easton giving me breathing room meant that he knew I might need time to process what was happening between us. The alarming realization that he’s more in tune with what I need than I am is unsettling, to say the least.
But I am done waiting.
I came this close to asking one of his friends if he was okay, but when he texted saying that he’d come to my show tonight, all my worries disappeared. But my foolish grin falls the minute the door opens, and familiar, forest-green eyes smile back at me, rather than the smoldering silver ones I longed for.
“Owen,” I stammer in surprise, rushing to put on my robe.
“Scarlett,” he cajoles, walking toward me and placing a chaste kiss on my cheek. “I thought working here would have taken away some of your modesty, but I see that isn’t the case,” he teases, lightly tugging at the hem of my silk robe.
“I didn’t know you would be coming tonight.”
“It couldn’t be avoided, unfortunately. Plus, I miss hearing you sing.”
His soft, earnest grin does the trick in relaxing my anxious state.
“If you had told me you were coming, I would have prepared something for you.”
Owen loves it when I sing Black Bird by the Beatles. My mother used to sing the melody to me as a lullaby when I was growing up. Still, it was only after she passed away that I discovered the song was a treasured memory shared between the two of them—one that she tried to keep alive by singing it to me every night.