Chapter 13

13

CRISTIAN

I cradled Scarlet's sleeping form, her warmth seeping into my chest. My fingers tangled in her hair, savoring its silky texture. Guilt gnawed at my insides, a festering wound that wouldn't heal. What I'd done to her—removing the IUD, forcing myself on her—it haunted me. My broken mind had convinced me it was the only way to keep her, to make her mine forever.

"You're mine now, kitten," I whispered, my lips brushing her ear. "I need you. Can't live without you."

The thought of losing her sent a tremor through my body. Memories of Tessa's loss crashed over me, threatening to drown me in despair. I couldn't go through that again, not with Scarlet. My feelings for her burned hotter, brighter, consuming me whole.

Part of me yearned to break her, to claim every inch of her body and soul. But I knew better. Scarlet was a wildfire, untamable and fierce. Trying to extinguish her flame would only leave us both in ashes.

I had to change. For her. Fight against the darkness that clouded my mind, become more human. It terrified me, the thought of battling my own nature. But Scarlet was worth it. Worth everything. The chaos that had been my constant companion for so long would have to be tamed, leashed like a wild beast. It was a daunting task, one that made my hands tremble and my heart race with uncertainty. I knew my own mind was a mess, something I struggled with, but I could do this, for her.

My body ached to bury myself inside her, to ensure she carried our child. The whispers in my head grew louder, urging me to take what I wanted. I gritted my teeth, forcing those thoughts away. I wouldn't betray her trust again, no matter how much my fractured psyche screamed for it. The memories of Tessa's loss haunted me, the way she'd stolen our unborn child from me, fueling my desire to create new life, but I knew I had to resist. Scarlet deserved better than my impulsive, primal urges. She didn't deserve the feral darkness that haunted the shadows of my mind.

"I'll be better," I murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. "I'll become the man you deserve, sweetheart. Whatever it takes." My lips lingered on her skin, savoring her warmth. I inhaled deeply, committing her scent to memory. It was a promise to her, to myself, and to whatever higher power might be listening, not that I'd ever truly believed in anything above.

I'd walk through fire, fight an army, or wrestle my own demons if that's what it took to be worthy of her.

I lay awake, my eyes fixed on the glittering cityscape beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows. The night was alive with twinkling lights, a stark contrast to the darkness that often consumed my thoughts. Scarlet stirred beside me, rolling over in her sleep and nuzzling into my chest. Her warmth seeped into my skin, a reminder of her presence, her vulnerability. My arm instinctively tightened around her, pulling her closer, molding her body against mine. The urge to protect her surged through me, fierce and primal, a feeling so intense it threatened to overwhelm me. My kitten, my sweetheart, my anchor in the chaos that constantly swirled within me.

My hand drifted to her belly, wondering if a new life was already taking root inside her. The possibility both thrilled and terrified me. After everything that had happened with Tessa, the thought of Scarlet carrying my child filled me with a desperate hope.

The door creaked open, and I sensed one of my brother's, although I couldn't see them behind me.

"How's she doing?" Tyrone asked, his voice low.

"Asleep," I whispered back, carefully extracting myself from Scarlet's embrace. She mumbled something incoherent but didn't wake as I rose and turned to my brother.

I followed Tyrone downstairs, my bare feet barely making a sound on the cold stone flooring. The familiar scent of whiskey greeted me as we entered the kitchen, where Julian was already posted up against the counter, nursing a glass. His eyes flicked up briefly when we walked in, then dropped back to his drink, as if the amber liquid held all the answers we needed.

Tyrone poured himself a generous measure before speaking, the clink of glass on glass echoing in the tense silence. "This past week has been a goddamn mess with the Russo family," he said, his voice low and controlled. "I've been running myself ragged, meeting with our family and our men, trying to get a handle on the fallout."

I grabbed a glass for myself, not bothering to wait for an invitation. The whiskey burned a familiar path down my throat, a welcome distraction from everything swirling in my head. "And?" I prompted, already reaching to refill my glass. "What's the verdict?"

"The Russos have spilt some blood, that's for sure," Tyrone continued, his face a carefully constructed mask of neutrality. "But they've lost even more of their own in the process. It's been a bloodbath on both sides."

I knocked back another swallow of whiskey, feeling the warmth spread through my chest. "So what's happening now?" I asked, my fingers tapping against the glass. "We just gonna sit around and wait for the next move?"

Tyrone's brow furrowed. "That's what's got us concerned, Cris. They've gone quiet. Suspiciously quiet. All our informants are saying the same thing - they've gone underground to some extent. It doesn't sit right with me."

Julian finally spoke up, his voice rough from the whiskey and lack of use. "Could be they're deciding on a new family head," he offered, swirling the liquid in his glass. "Lot of bodies dropped. Might be scrambling to fill the power vacuum."

I clicked my tongue and rolled my eyes. "Weren't we going to eradicate the whole family? I thought that was the plan. What happened to painting the town red with Russo blood?"

Tyrone sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose like he always did when he was trying not to lose his cool. "That was the plan, Cris, but some of the rival families rose up to oppose the potential idea of that, threatening their own involvement. Not to mention our own family members - our cousins and uncle - weren't too keen on wiping them off the board just yet. They still think the Russos have their uses."

"Since when do we listen to anyone else?" I demanded, anger flaring in my chest. "You're the head of the family, aren't you? I could deal with the family members opposing you. Just say the word, Ty. I'll make them disappear so fast, they won't even have time to scream. Done it before."

Tyrone, ever the voice of reason, shut me down.

"Leave it," he said firmly, his dark eyes boring into mine. "We'll keep our ears to the ground and bide our time."

I swirled my glass, a frustrated growl escaping my throat. Patience had never been my strong suit, especially not since the bullet. The chaos in my mind begged for release, for blood and violence.

"We saw a whole other side of Scarlet today," Julian mused, shifting the subject to a more favorable one since we had to sit here on our thumbs.

I nodded, my mind drifting back to the warehouse, to Scarlet's hands covered in blood. "She was... beautiful," I breathed, a grin spreading across my face. "The way she embraced it all, the look in her eyes... It was like watching a work of art come to life."

"Do you think she's pregnant? That she can feel it somehow? That would explain her sudden willingness to embrace our world."

I shrugged, trying to hide the hope that circled in my chest. "It's possible. We won't know for sure for a few more weeks."

Tyrone remained silent, his face unreadable as he sipped his whiskey.

"If she is," Julian continued, "A child would tie her to us permanently."

I felt a surge of possessiveness at the thought. "She's already ours," I growled. "Baby or not. She killed Ian, she made the choice."

Julian nodded. "Of course. I'm just saying, it would make things... simpler."

I drained my glass and set it down on the counter a little too heavily. "Nothing's ever simple with Scarlet," I muttered. "But that's what makes her so damn perfect."

Tyrone finally spoke up, his voice low and measured. "We need to be careful. If she is pregnant, we can't push her too hard. She's still adjusting to our world. We don't need her miscarrying."

I scoffed. "After what she did to Ian? I'd say she's adjusted just fine." But I also knew he had a point. Ian had been our test for her, and she'd passed with flying colors.

Julian nodded in agreement. "She certainly didn't hesitate when it came to having her revenge."

"That's different," Tyrone argued. "Revenge is personal. Our business... that's something else entirely."

"We gave her her choices. She chose us," I shot back.

"I know. And now she needs to come to terms with that decision," Tyrone stated, his eyes holding mine. "Because like you said, she made her choice."

My lip quirked as I looked at the ceiling, as if I could magically see my little kitten. She was ours now. Bound to us in blood.