Chapter 6

6

SCARLET

T he days bled into one another, a hazy blur of confinement and conflicting emotions. I found myself drifting through the hours, seeking solace in the mindless flicker of the TV screen. Movies became my escape, a window to worlds beyond these suffocating walls.

Julian's presence became a constant, a lifeline I clung to in my isolation. We'd play board games, or just sit curled on the couch, the TV a background noise as he regaled me with stories from his past. I learned of his childhood adventures, the mischief he and his brothers got into. It was strange, hearing him speak of Cristian with fondness, when the mere thought of him made me uneasy.

It was one of these moments that revealed more about the brothers. Julian's fingers had danced across the chessboard, his brow furrowed in concentration. The silence between us felt comfortable.

"Checkmate," he announced with a grin.

I groaned, tipping over my king. "That's what, five games in a row now?"

He chuckled, leaning back in his chair. "What can I say? Strategy's in my blood."

"Speaking of blood," I began, curiosity getting the better of me. "You mentioned your dad taught you guys to shoot earlier. How old were you?" I'd asked who'd taught them, wondering if their father had enlisted someone or done it himself, and Julian had answered honestly.

Julian pondered the question for a moment before clicking his tongue. "I was eight when Dad first took us to the range. Dad believed in starting young."

"That's... young," I murmured, trying to picture child versions of the Silvestri brothers wielding guns.

"It was normal for us," Julian shrugged. "By twelve, we were all fully initiated into the family business."

My eyebrows shot up. "Twelve? How the hell does that work? What do you mean by initiated?"

A shadow passed over Julian's face. "People don't suspect children as assassins."

The words hung heavy in the air between us. I shuddered as I imagined Julian, Tyrone, and Cristian as child soldiers in their family's twisted war.

"That's..." I struggled to find the right words. "That's fucked up."

"It is what it is. That's our life, pyro."

I touched my stomach, and his gaze followed the movement.

"Would that be expected of every child?" I asked, still unsure if there was a life blooming in my belly.

His eyes met mine, and he let out a heavy sigh. "This family is what it is, Scarlet. Children need to know how to protect themselves. There are those that wouldn't bat an eye murdering a child."

The words hit home, and I swallowed as Lily's cries echoed in my mind.

"There's a big difference between knowing how to use a gun to defend yourself and being expected to assassinate," I muttered.

"Maybe."

He shifted the conversation after that, and we'd ended up talking about how he'd gotten Kenny. He'd found him as a stray kitten, and he shared some of the crazy antics he'd gotten up to, and how he'd put the tracking chip in him after his leash broke once when they were dealing with a warehouse issue. It'd blown up into something big, and Kenny had run off. Thankfully, to his surprise and delight, Julian had found him hiding under the car when they went to leave, as if he'd known Julian would return to it.

These moments with Julian were... complicated. I couldn't forget what he was, what they all were. But in these quiet hours, it was easy to pretend we were just two people, sharing stories and laughter.

Tyrone, too, showed a gentler side. He had gifted me an e-reader, loaded with books spanning every genre imaginable.

"Thought you might like some variety," he'd said, his usual gruff demeanor softened by something I couldn't quite name.

We'd talk, sometimes. About books, about the weather, about anything but the elephant in the room. Cristian's name hung unspoken between us, a demon neither of us dared to summon.

I hadn't seen him since he'd attacked me and spoken all his words of love and possession. Where was he? What had happened? The questions burned on my tongue, but I swallowed them down. I knew better than to poke that particular hornet's nest.

Still, as the days wore on, the silence grew deafening. I caught myself staring at doorways, half-expecting him to saunter in with that wild grin. I wasn't even sure how I felt about it, if I hated him or not.

I wanted to ask. God, I wanted to demand answers. But every time I opened my mouth, I remembered the fury in Tyrone's eyes that day, the barely contained violence in Julian's gentle touch as he'd helped me into the shower.

So I said nothing. I watched my movies. I played my games. I read my books. And I waited, trapped in this gilded cage, for the other shoe to drop. For us to find out if there was a child after all of this.

I lounged on the bed, peering over Julian's shoulder as his fingers flew across the keyboard while he sat leaning against the bed on the floor. The screen flickered with lines of code and windows I couldn't begin to understand.

"This program here," Julian explained, pointing to a complex interface, "can track anyone's digital footprint. Social media, credit card transactions, even traffic cameras."

My eyes widened. "That's... terrifying."

He chuckled. "It's a necessary tool in our line of work. Here, look at this."

With a few keystrokes, a map appeared on the screen, dotted with blinking lights.

"Each of these represents one of our assets. We can monitor their movements in real-time."

I leaned closer, fascinated despite myself. "How does it work?"

Julian launched into an explanation that went way over my head, but I nodded along, impressed by his expertise. It was easy to forget, in moments like these, that his skills were used for far darker purposes than simple coding.

"And this," he said, pulling up another program, "is how we manage our finances. It's all encrypted, of course. Untraceable."

I whistled low. "You're like a one-man tech army."

He grinned, a hint of pride in his eyes. "Someone's got to keep us ahead of the game."

The door swung open, and Tyrone strode in. Julian quickly minimized the windows, but Tyrone waved him off.

"It's fine, Jules. She might as well know what we're capable of."

I tensed, unsure of what to expect from Tyrone's sudden appearance. But his next words caught me completely off guard.

"I've organized a spa day for you, Scarlet. With Naomi."

I blinked, certain I'd misheard. "What?"

Tyrone's lips twitched in what might have been a smile. "You heard me. Thought you could use some time with your friend. It's all arranged for tomorrow."

Excitement bubbled up in my chest, warring with suspicion. "Really? I can see Naomi?"

He nodded. "Under supervision, of course. But yes, you'll have the day to relax and catch up."

I couldn't help the grin that spread across my face. "Thank you, Tyrone. I... I really appreciate it."

Something softened in his eyes, but it was gone so quickly I might have imagined it. "Don't mention it. Jules will drive you there in the morning."

As Tyrone left, I turned to Julian, still stunned.

Julian chuckled. "Ty's not all bad and scary, you know. He can surprise you sometimes."

I nodded, my mind already racing with thoughts of seeing Naomi. It had been too long, and there was so much I needed to tell her. I'd not filled her in on everything with our phone calls, still processing it all myself. A day of pampering and girl talk sounded like heaven after weeks of confinement.

"I think I'll try to catch him and thank him properly," I said as I stood and headed for the bedroom door.

Julian nodded and moved to the bed, stroking Kenny as his focus returned to his laptop.

I couldn't shake the feeling that this gesture from Tyrone meant something. Was it a peace offering? A way to keep me complacent? Or was there something more to it?

Whatever the reason, I was grateful for the chance to see Naomi, and I wanted to thank him properly.

I hurried down the stairs, my heart racing with a mix of gratitude and apprehension. I found Tyrone in the kitchen, pouring himself a glass of whiskey. The amber liquid caught the light as he turned to face me.

"Tyrone," I began, my voice softer than I'd intended. "I wanted to thank you again. For tomorrow, I mean. It means a lot."

He nodded, his dark eyes unreadable. "How are you feeling?"

His gaze dropped to my stomach, and I felt a flutter of nervousness. They hadn't touched me sexually since that day with Cristian, and I wasn't sure if I was relieved or unsettled by it.

"I feel fine," I said, then hesitated. "My period's due next week, and normally my boobs are sore before that."

Tyrone arched a brow. "And are they?"

"No," I admitted, crossing my arms over my chest self-consciously.

He nodded and sipped his drink, looking thoughtful. The silence stretched between us, heavy with unspoken words. My mind moved to the one thing I'd been thinking about for the past several days now, and I knew it was time to finally ask. Sitting and pretending that Cristian no longer existed was not the way to handle what had happened. Besides, I wanted to know what had happened. I took a deep breath, steeling myself as Tyrone studied me.

"What's happened to Cristian?" I finally asked the question that had been burning inside me for days.

Tyrone's jaw tightened. "I found him."

"And?" I pressed carefully, bracing myself for the answer.

"Things got physical," he said, his voice low and controlled. "He's staying at one of our other places."

I nodded, a flicker of guilt hitting me at knowing Tyrone had beaten his brother. At least, that's what I was assuming, especially since he had no injuries himself in the past several days since Cristian's departure. I shoved the guilt down, reminding myself of what Cristian had done.

"He knows what he did was wrong," Tyrone added, but I couldn't help but scoff.

"The way he thinks isn't like a normal, sane person," Tyrone continued, and sighed heavily as he shook his head. "His brain is... broken, after his injury."

I gritted my teeth, the reminder hitting hard. I knew Cristian was messed up, and had known it for a while now. The guilt returned, creeping in at the edges of my consciousness. What had he been thinking at that moment when he'd attacked me? How had his mind warped it into being something he thought was right?

"I know he's not... right," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. "But that doesn't excuse what he did."

Tyrone nodded, his expression grave. "No, it doesn't. But it might help explain it."

I leaned against the kitchen counter, suddenly feeling exhausted. I'd spent the past several days, hell, nearly a week now if I thought about it, mulling over him and what he'd done, the two sides of him that I'd been privy to. How twisted and wild he was. "I just... I don't know how to feel about any of this anymore."

Tyrone's dark eyes held mine, his expression unreadable. "Cristian is... difficult to predict and understand. But family is everything to him. Even though he's gone about this all wrong, hurt you emotionally, mentally, and physically, he does actually care for you."

I scoffed and shook my head at his words.

"I know it's hard to believe," Tyrone said, his voice low. "But in his own twisted way, he does."

I turned away, unable to look at him anymore. My mind raced, replaying moments with Cristian. The gentle way he'd stroke my hair, the passionate kisses, the pet names he'd use. But then came the flashes of violence, the possessiveness, the disregard for my autonomy.

"I find it hard to believe," I muttered, more to myself than to Tyrone. But even as I said it, doubt crept in. I thought back to the times when Cristian had been gentle, almost loving. The way he'd look at me sometimes, like I was the most precious thing in the world.

My stomach churned. "But... I also think about how he was at times. The things he said." I swallowed hard, hating the words even as they left my mouth. "In his own twisted way, I know he cares for me, and it messes with me."

Tyrone remained silent, letting me work through my thoughts.

"I hate how he's gotten under my skin," I continued, my voice barely above a whisper. "How I still feel a flicker of something that isn't hatred towards him." I turned back to Tyrone, my eyes stinging with unshed tears. "I'm just as messed up as he is for not hating him with everything I have."

Tyrone set down his glass and took a step towards me. "You're not messed up, Scarlet. Feelings are complicated, especially in situations like this."

I laughed bitterly. "Situations like this? You mean being held captive, assaulted, and potentially impregnated against my will?"

He sighed and looked to the window as he worked his jaw.

I wrapped my arms around myself, suddenly feeling very small. "I shouldn't feel anything but hatred for him. For any of you."

"But you do," Tyrone said softly, those dark eyes returning to mine. It wasn't a question.

I nodded, unable to speak past the lump in my throat. The realization hit me hard – I cared for them, all of them, in some twisted, fucked-up way. Even Cristian, despite everything he'd done.

Now if that didn't make me just as crazy as them, I wasn't sure what would.