29
Lycan
Horatio Bardot has always been a no-good bastard. But seeing him whimper about his transgressions makes me angry. The pretty gray eyes that are currently locked on me calm me somewhat, because if she wasn’t here, I’d probably do something I’d later regret. And that’s not who I am. I regret nothing in my life. Taking Scarlett wasn’t part of my plan, I didn’t set out to steal or buy her from her father.
The contract was a choice, the right one it seems. I needed her safe, away from Miles, who is old enough to be her father, and the lying, cheating asshole who is actually her blood. Both men are sadistic in their tendencies, and even though I’ve given her pain, it’s always come with pleasure.
“I tried to make sure you saw your twenty-first birthday, and I made sure Miles couldn’t come for you later on. He’s not a good man, not even by a long shot,” I tell her, knowing she’s already come to terms with being my wife, but this has solidified her feelings. I knew there was a small inkling of doubt in her mind. I could see it in her eyes.
“Thank you,” she tells me, a soft, calm whisper. When she turns around again to face her father, she steps closer to him, and instinct tells me to keep hold of her, but I don’t. I allow her to take a stand for what she needs. My girl is strong. She can handle herself; she’s proven that time and again.
When she reaches him, she stops, right in front of the man who bargained her life away. The bitter truth is, she’s better off, and I’m proud to have her bear the Shaw name. Scarlett shocks me when she grips his shoulders, lifting onto her tip toes, and gifts her father a kiss on either cheek.
There’s symbolism in the action.
Also known as the Kiss of Judas if I recall correctly. My mind flits through information I’ve garnered over the years, and even though I’m not religious, I can’t deny my wife has finally realized she’s free of her deceitful father.
“Goodbye, Dad,” she says, her tone serious. Her voice doesn’t break, it doesn’t even crack as she steps back, releasing him from her hold, and that’s when she nods at Darius. She knew my brother would take the lead because I wouldn’t.
I’ve already saved her.
He’s her soldier, while I’m her king.
My queen sidles up beside me, her body slinking under my arm and she relaxes instantly. We watch as Darius grabs Horatio, pushing him to his knees. Marinda’s face is a picture of heartbreak as she steps closer to her husband and slaps him harshly across the face. Her anger is palpable, an entity that hangs heavily between them. The room is stifling, and I’m tempted to open the door just to allow fresh air inside.
“You’re a bastard, Horatio,” Marinda tells him. “All these years, I’ve stood by you, kept the secret about your lying father, because I thought you were better. And you could’ve been, but you made the wrong choice.”
Those words ring in my mind. Scarlett said the same thing to her grandmother. It seems the Bardot blood line is cursed. It’s not the love between Scarlett and me that brought about the curse, it’s the choices of a mother and son.
Darius slides his blade from the back of his suit pants, and I have to stifle a chuckle. My brother always keeps a weapon on him, no matter where he is. I guess this time is no different.
“Shall I tell you about a little something I believe in called an eye for an eye?” he questions, gripping Horatio by the hairline, tugging his head back, and slipping the sleek steel against the column of his neck.
“I deserve it,” the older man whispers, but it’s loud enough for us all to hear. “I don’t deny it any longer. Please, do it because I can’t live with myself. Now that my daughter knows what I’ve done, I can’t live with her hating me.”
“Do you think you deserve the mercy of death?” Darius tips his head to the side, his eyes blazing with pure malice, and Scarlett shivers as she watches her hunter ready to kill for her. “Your daughter is now my family. She’s a Shaw,” he tells Horatio. “If you truly think you can slip from his life easily, then you’re sorely fucking mistaken, because what you’re actually going to do is pay. For the rest of your fucking life,” Darius promises. I’m not sure what he has in store for the man on his knees, but I can only assume it’s not something good.
We watch as the knife slides across his neck, not deep enough to kill, just enough as a warning. The wince on Horatio’s face is clear. He doesn’t cry out though, his face contorts, his mouth falls open as the trickle of crimson slides slowly down his neck. And then Darius tugs the knife away, releasing his hold on Horatio.