Page 45 of Black Hearts
“Why, yes, actually, I think some time away from this apartment would be very nice,” Will quipped.
Bennet shot him a look from where he stood off to the side. “I think he was talking to Juliet, you fucking idiot.”
Will turned his hazel stare to Markus, and Markus glowered. “Why the fuck would I want to take you anywhere? Of course, I was talking to Juliet.” His lips curled downward in a frown, and his sneering expression made Will roll his eyes and throw up his hands in mock surrender.
As the guys muttered annoyed comments under their breath at each other, I couldn’t help but get a little giddy. Not about meeting this Oliver guy, but about getting out of this suite, feeling the sun on my skin again. Being free.
You know, at least for a little bit.
As much as I was grateful to have my guys here, I couldn’t deny that I had enjoyed my tastes of freedom. I was starting to understand now why people made such stupid decisions sometimes; when you had the whole world staring back at you, endless possibilities all around you, it was very tempting to throw all caution to the wind and do whatever it was you wanted.
Every single pair of eyes in the space turned toward me, and it was then I realized I hadn’t said anything. “Oh, uh, yes,” I hurriedly spoke. “I’ll go.” I couldn’t help but smile.
It wasn’t a masquerade party, but I’d take any time away from this place. Besides, Markus and I could use some time alone. That had been severely lacking lately.
Chapter Seven – Markus
My father sat at my desk, looking quite smug. The room was a little off, the walls to my office not quite as I remembered them, but I paid next to no attention to them, strictly focused on my father.
Most would say Johnathan Scott was the most intimidating man they’d ever met, but then those people hadn’t met me, the son he’d spent years molding into his very image. Where my father was strict, I was the same. Where he was angry, I was furious. Where he was calm and collected, I was the same.
Until Juliet, that was. Then everything was thrown to hell.
“Honestly, Markus,” my father was busy saying, “I still can’t believe you threw it all away for one girl.” His hands were folded on top of the desk, his dark stare one much like mine, only holding wrinkles I did not.
“I threw nothing away,” I told him.
He tilted his head at me, his lips tugging into a frown. “Didn’t you? You put the family at risk so you could keep watch over her because you didn’t trust yourself to have her here.” He shook his head. “Never thought you would be one to chase morals.”
That’s what my father didn’t understand, though. It wasn’t about morals. It was about what I wanted. Deep down, I guess I’d known all along the moment I brought Juliet into my life, everything would change. I’d change. The way I thought about the world would change. Even pain.
Yes, even pain had changed. Whereas I never used to feel it before, now I did. Not so much the physical pain—that had remained switched off in my head—but mental pain, mental anguish. Guilt, regret, remorse; all things no Scott should feel, especially me, but when it came to that girl, I was all but helpless.
Juliet made me feel all those things and more, and now that I’d crossed that bridge, there was no turning back. No undo button, no rewinding to get back to the way things were. My father needed to see that.
“I don’t care about morals,” I said, returning the frown he gave me.
“You were supposed to be my successor, but you’ve proven yourself to be untrustworthy. How else am I supposed to view your actions? You let Fred Osborne go far too long. The more he killed, the more he put us at risk. I warned you years ago that we’d have to take care of him. Tell me, Markus, what did you think I meant when I said that? Did you think I meant we should give him a pass for every murder he committed off the books?”
“No, but I—”
My father held up a hand, and suddenly, even though I swore I was speaking, no voice came out of me. It was like the volume had been muted. Mine, at least. Not my father’s, for he was slow to stand, running a hand down the front of his black suit in a manner much like I did. “I took the liberty of doing what you could not. Come with me.” He walked around the desk and around me, heading out of the office.
I didn’t want to follow him, but I had to. My body was compelled to go after him, and so I turned and left the office… stepping right into one of the rooms in the basement. The lighting was dimmer than it should be, and yet even though it flickered, I could see the picture before me clearly.
Affixed to the chair in the center of the sterile room, Juliet sat. Her wrists and ankles were tied down by thick leather straps, a similar strap around her neck to further hold her down. Her blond hair was a mess, and those blue eyes of hers were closed. She looked to be unharmed, but unconscious.
My father moved to the side of the room, where the torture instruments sat, all pretty and shining, reflecting what little light there was in the room. As he chose his favorite, I was left to stare at Juliet.
I wanted to go to her. To help her out of that chair, take her into my arms, and carry her away from here. She didn’t deserve this fate. She… she truly did deserve so much more than this, but I was too selfish to let her go. I couldn’t, and look at where that had gotten us.
I turned my head away from her, gazing at my father. My hands twitched at my sides. He stood before so many weapons I could use on him, so many sharp objects I could pluck his eyes out with. Make him bleed. Make him see that he could never take Juliet from me. I would rather kill him, go against everything I stood for, than lose her again.
I wasn’t going to lose Juliet ever again.
My father turned around, holding a jagged knife, and the moment he faced me once more, he wore a cruel smile. “You may fight now, but soon you will realize I am only doing what is best for you and for this family. This girl needs to go. It would seem I have one last lesson to teach you, my boy.”
Like hell. If he thought I would simply stand aside and let him hurt Juliet, he was dead wrong. Key word there: dead. Deader than fucking dead, really.
