Chasing Scarlett: A Breeder Romance

9. Ohio

A third Pov.

A human girl had stolen the crown from underneath their noses and vanished. Avallen was in an uproar like never before and after several months of searching for her to no avail, they began searching for other solutions, fighting each other; killing each other.

For two years, Riordan searched for Scarlett, but he couldn't find the woman. Lorcan upturned every stone, and he couldn't locate the puny human. Cillian called in favors in the human world, detectives, police departments, trackers, but she was off their radar. Tiarnan, who had never taken anything as seriously in his entire life, kept his eyes on Scarlett's ex-husband, her best friend and father, knowing she would show up eventually. She had to.

But Scarlett never turned up.

*********

Scarlett

"Shut the hell up!" I yell and shove the glistening ornament into a wooden box and I turn the lock twice, even if I know it is fruitless. It never stops talking. It talks to me everywhere, even if I am miles away from it. I have tried burying it, burning it, throwing it down a flowing river, crushing it.

It all goes to prove that the crown is indestructible, and I f*****g hate it.

Groaning, I lift the box and hurl it into the back of my truck before shutting it. I get into the driver's seat and take out the gun from the back of my pocket, placing it on the dashboard.

Today, I returned to Ohio. I've been hiding out in Africa for two years, but that didn't stop them from finding me. I've learned to sleep, eat, bathe, all with my guns within reach.

So, when one of them suddenly pops into my living room or bedroom, I aim for their head. It also helps that when they die, they disintegrate and I do not need to clean up their mess.

They don't even bother trying to take me back to Avallen anymore. They have decided to f**k me on sight and leave their seeds inside me. Some try to compel me. Restrain me. Sweet-talk me. Outrightly assault me. It's a never-ending series of attacks and after getting nearly raped last night by a Fae male who had managed to pass off as human, I decided that I am done living like this.

That too and the fact that father cut me off. Sure, father is richer than their deity, and when I told him I needed to disappear, he hadn't questioned me. He'd simply made it so. But he’s grown tired of my vague explanations and reasons why I have decided to remain in hiding. He’d asked nicely for me to return and I simply refused. Again, and again. So, he did what Kingsley Montgomery was best at.

Used his influence.

He’s rendered all my credit cards useless—even those I thought he didn’t know about. My accounts are frozen, my assets inaccessible. He’s a f*****g bully and I hate that. I called him and all I got in response were flight tickets and only enough money to fuel my damn car to the airport. I held out for two weeks before I broke.

Yeah, you caught me. That’s the only reason I’ve come back, and I’m so hungry, I could eat the man.

“You all but need to make a wish,” Maeve’s crown whispers again and I bare my teeth toward the rear of my car. “Do not f*****g talk to me or I’ll throw you in boiling oil.”

It goes silent.

Thankfully.

Letting my hand dangle out the window, I step hard on the gas, letting my annoyance and frustration go with the wind as it whips at my hair. The highway is free. It always is on this side of the city, closer to my father’s estate. I won’t deny missing him, but I just wish he didn’t have to force my hand like this. He doesn’t understand my decisions and he would send me to therapy if I told him everything. He’d say my divorce and child loss traumatized me.

Even I don’t believe me sometimes. I’d go to therapy too if it didn’t mean I had to admit that I have become a f*****g killer.

Over the years, I have forced myself to build a stomach for blood. It helps that they don’t bleed red and act like f*****g animals. I, on the other hand…no. I’m not going to think about the shifting, the pain, the drugs, the sleepless nights, the nightmares and waking up with someone’s blood in my mouth.

The brothers might think they gifted me a new life. But all they did was ruin me and I’ll never forgive them for it. They should have left me to die that night.

I pull up before the vast golden gates and I don’t bother driving in. I don’t plan on staying long enough to hear my father’s response after I give him a piece of my mind.

My heels click against the gravel as I approach the gates, half expecting the usually peachy keeper to jump out of his post with his usual, “Bienvenue, Mademoiselle!”, just so I can tell him to shove his greetings up his ass, but he doesn’t. Seventeen years, Hugo has worked for my father and he has never not popped out with a greeting just to annoy me.

“Hugo?” I call out, pressing my fingers against the scanner by the gate arm. My voice echoes and I wince at the green flash of light against my eyes and the loud beeps of approval before the gate begins to slide to the right. My gaze trails over the expanse of my father’s mansion and goosebumps erupt on my skin. Something’s wrong. First off, the lights inside are out. They’re never out.

Second, I think as I trudge across to the guard post, there are no guards loitering the grounds. Hell, there’s no single soul out here. No workers. No gardeners. No bodyguards in suits. No guests. Father always has people over. Always. The only time the villa was ever this quiet and empty was after my mother’s death.

A deep sense of dread and urgency quickens my steps and as I twist the doorknob, the first that hits me is the horrifying stench of death. My fingers fly to my lips to stifle a cry. Hugo sits in his chair, his neck bent at an unnatural angle with two, battered holes in them. Fangs.

“Sainte Mere de Dieu (Holy Mother of God),” I breathe in disbelief, noting three more bodies on the floor, all sickly white, their faces contorted with pain and decay, their eyes, unseeing.

I back out the door, fear forcing my heart to pound as I run towards the main building. I’ve never run so fast in my life and I’ve never known fear like this. Not even when I was dying. Not even at Avallen. Tears blur my vision as I push past the doors, taking three steps at a time as I head for father’s study, crying a single prayer, “Please! Non, s’il te plait!” Not him. Not my father.

I was so f*****g stupid, thinking I could run to the ends of the earth to avoid them. To think they would come after me and not my father. God no. Please.

The house is eerily silent; dark, and I don’t bother looking to check if there are anymore bodies, because my heart can’t f*****g take it. A sob escapes my throat as I hit the last step and note the door to my father’s study ripped clean off its hinges. No, no, no. There is roaring in my mind. I’m screaming because even if I refuse to simply accept it without seeing it, I can feel the cold touch of death hovering right there. I can smell it.

I reach the door after what feels like an eternity and something fundamental in me cracks. My knees give out at the sight of my father lying on the floor, amongst scattered papers, broken glass and furniture. “Papa,” I whisper, crawling to him. He doesn’t turn his head and tell me I’m overbearing. His blue eyes don’t crinkle with mischief or annoyance at my tears. I’m an only child. He’s raised me to be strong, like him. I shouldn’t cry so often. Tears are for damsels.

“Papa!” I yell, frustrated as I tug at his arm. There’s a gun in one of them, his finger hooked on the trigger, and from the destruction around us, the bullets in the walls and table, I know he fought. He’s the strongest man I know. The most powerful man in the city with influences that stretch farther than I can comprehend sometimes. His guards are well-trained. The best of the horde. How could he…how could he…die?

His arms are twisted, more than a few digits missing from his left hand, his shirt ripped over his heart and shoulder where punctures of sharp canines adorn. About six of them. Heavens have mercy. It wasn’t a clean death. Or swift. They made him suffer. Because of me.

I cradle his head in my lap, pulling at his heavy body when I notice the note sticking out his blood-crusted lips. My rage boils over and my fingers tremble as I pull it out.

There’s not a single doubt that the red ink the message is written in is my father’s blood. It smears around the edges, bleeding back into the sheet. My airflow is cut off suddenly and I start to see red everywhere. I force myself to breathe as I read the only sentence on the page. Over and over again.

Consequences, breeder. This is only the beginning.