Last night Lycan held me, and I cried. I hadn’t done so in such a long time; it was refreshing, freeing. His strong arms ensured I was safe, and it was as if his strength had grounded me. So, even though I was broken-hearted, I never felt as if I was alone.
I’d been focused on my future for most of my life. My path had been set out for me, and I knew where I was headed. He walked in and my life veered in a different direction than I expected. But it’s also been eye-opening.
I’m a new person.
A different woman.
All grown up and ready to take on the world as Mrs. Shaw.
Last night, at some point after I’d dried my tears, I decided I no longer wanted the Bardot name, so, as soon as we can, I’m changing it. The thought of being linked to my grandmother, and what she’s done in the past, leaves unease in my gut.
I don’t like it.
And I don’t want it.
Slipping on my sneakers, I stand and make my way out of the bedroom I now share with Lycan. I still have my red riding hood themed room, which I can escape to if I feel the need. I haven’t felt the need to yet. But it’s only been a couple of days so far.
In the living room, I find Darius and Lycan talking with Kahn. They fall silent when I move closer, and each one of them glances at me. The need to tell them I’m not fragile overpowers my desire to roll my eyes.
“You do not have to hide things from me,” I say, meeting my husband’s gaze. “You know this.” I settle in beside him, my arm instinctively wrapping around his neck as I take in the other two men.
“We may have a location for more of Lorenzo’s clients, so I’m making sure Darius and Lycan are okay with me taking the lead from here on out,” Kahn informs me. Lycan told me about his sister, which only makes what my grandmother did so much more personal than if I didn’t know anyone connected to the girls. It sounds strange, but it’s true.
“We are,” Darius says, along with Lycan’s nod. “I think with your connection to this, it makes sense. But if you need help, don’t hesitate to ask because my men wouldn’t mind spilling some blood.” There’s a sinister grin on his face, and I’m sure he’s included in that team of men who would like to have blood on their hands. He’s done it before, and even though I should be scared, I’m not.
I’m proud of the men in my life because they’re fighting for the greater good. Sometimes we have to do bad things to make sure the world turns. But when we do those bad things, they’re done to bad people, which in a strangely fucked up way makes it okay.
“I think with the Italian’s in on this job, along with your club, we can ensure these bastards never see the light of day again,” Kahn says with a smile that belies what he’s talking about. “Sorry.” He looks at me, but I can’t help but return the grin.
“Please, don’t apologize,” I tell him. “They deserve what’s coming to them. And I certainly don’t need to be handled with kid gloves.”
He tips his fingers in a mock salute while offering me a smile. “I’ll remember that, Mrs. Shaw,” he responds, and the use of my married name sends heat skittering through me. It’s the first time I’ve been acknowledged as Lycan’s wife by someone other than my husband, and it feels good. Different, but good.
“Mr. Shaw,” one of the men I recognize from the day Lycan came to rescue me from Darius, steps into the room. “There’s a Mrs. Bardot here to see you.”
My heart skips a beat, leaping into my throat, and I find it difficult to swallow past the fear. “Send her in here,” I answer, pushing to my feet before I smooth down my hands over the jeans I’m wearing. My palms are sweaty, and my nerves are once more tingling with the need to run and hide. But this is something I need to do.
“Are you sure you’re ready?” Lycan asks from behind me, his hand reaching for one of mine and I allow him to tangle his fingers through mine.
I nod slowly, but I offer him a reassuring smile before answering, “I am.”
The door slides open, and my grandmother walks in. She’s dressed in a white skirt suit, which is paired with a soft pink blouse underneath. Her dark hair is pulled tight against her head in a bun that’s so precise, I’m almost sure she measured the width and height to make sure it’s perfect.
“Scarlett,” she greets, but doesn’t acknowledge any of the men in the room. Her focus solely on me as she settles in a chair which I gesture to.