3. Scarlett

I wake with a groan,muscles screaming in protest as I stretch out on the few blankets and sacks that I got together in the hay loft as a makeshift bed. After Lyssa's brutal training sessions, feeling like a body-shaped bruise has become my permanent state of being.

But I'll take the aches and pains if it means finally gaining an edge on that smug bitch, Ariadne. My teeth grit at the thought of her sneering face. She may have been Grandmother's prize pupil once upon a time, but she doesn't know what I've had to claw my way through just to stay breathing these last few weeks.

I'm stronger now in a way that has nothing to do with punches and kicks.

I ignore the rickety ladder and drop to the barn floor, where I go through my stretches, letting the familiar burn work the knots from my muscles. My mind drifts back to yesterday's session, how Lyssa had me flat on my back in two moves, her thighs caged around my ribs as she pinned my wrists over my head. The way her brown eyes were intense as I tried to buck her off…

I flush hot at the memory of just how intimately we were pressed together, of the way she filled up my entire view.

And then my mind supplies more naked memories, the times we've rolled around not in training but in raging-hot need?—

"Stop it," I mutter out loud, and I picture a goddamn stop sign, red and demanding, instead of Lyssa's face in the middle of orgasm. Now is definitely not the time to entertain impure thoughts about the Wolf.

The woman who's sworn to end me the second I'm no longer useful.

I grimace, trying to shake off the tangled mess of emotions roiling inside me at the thought of what's to come. Of what she promised. Of never seeing my parents again.

It's better that way, I tell myself firmly, concentrating on the curve of my spine as I bend into an arch. Better that my parents never learn what their daughter's really become. What she's capable of. Maybe then they can go on thinking she was someone who wanted to save lives, rather than take them.

There's a bitterness to the thought, an ugly resignation that sits like a cold, hard lump in my chest. At this point, I'm not sure which would be crueler—preserving that deluded image of me in their minds forever, or letting them see the wretched, hate-fueled killer I've degenerated into.

But they'd be so disappointed if they knew the whole truth about me. It was bad enough when they witnessed me killing to save them, when Lyssa and I fought our way down the endless staircase of Grandmother's high-rise.

So I shove it all down, down into that pit of vengeful darkness inside me that never stops screaming. I push myself into a final bend, let the searing stretch overwhelm everything else, before allowing my body to go loose and pliant again.

There. That's better. I rise fluidly, rolling my shoulders as I cross to the barn doors. Lyssa didn't keep the chain on my ankle for long. Once she knew I was in with her crazy plan—take down Grandmother together—she let me have the run of this whole abandoned farm pretty quick.

Not that there's anything of interest here. She says no one knows about it, but from her own familiarity with the half-caved-in farmhouse and the amenities out here—if they can actually be called amenities—I bet she's spent some time out here herself.

Outside the barn, tilted on cracked bricks, is an old drinking trough for the cows or horses or whatever animals used to be kept out here. It's filled with rainwater so after snagging the Empire Grand Hotel-branded soap and towel from their spot next to the door, I strip off my grimy clothes and step out into the open air, shivering a little as the chill morning air prickles over my bare skin.

It's nice to be out here. Calming. Especially buck-naked like this, knowing there's not another human for miles around, and even if there was, they couldn't hurt me.

Very few people can hurt me these days. No one but Lyssa, I think, though I'd like to test myself against someone else she's trained. Hadria, maybe.

I know Ariadne will have a big fucking surprise coming her way next time we meet.

I stretch again, right up and then bending over to touch my cold toes in a kind of salutation to the just-risen sun. Then I grab the nearby bucket and head to the trough that I use as my tub these days.

I may be a murderer hiding out in some backwoods hole, but there's no excuse for skipping basic hygiene.

The water is fucking freezing, but that's how I like it. Maybe it's a form of penance or something, but I like the way it shocks me to my core when I dump a bucket over me, head down, gasping at the sensation. I scrub myself down and then sluice myself once more, my feet going a little numb.

But it feels good all the same. The cold, and my reaction to it. Reminds me I'm still alive…for now.

That's when I hear the telltale roar of an engine in the distance, steadily growing louder. My pulse kicks up a notch in anticipation. She's here—early, really damn early. Lyssa doesn't usually come until nightfall or close to it, checking me off her Mercenary's To Do list early so she can get on with the important stuff after. Or that's how it feels, anyway.

I stay right where I am as she gets closer, drenching myself once more for the sake of it, my nipples screwing up so hard they ache. The roar of the bike swells until it's nearly deafening, engine revving furiously as she tears around the bend in the access road. I catch a glimpse of wild blonde hair trailing out from under the helmet as she hits the brakes hard and comes to a skidding halt at the sight of me, kicking up a cloud of dust.

God, she always has to make an entrance, doesn't she?

I sweep my wet hair over one shoulder as I drizzle more water over my body, bending this way and that to get every inch. And then I turn slowly, giving her a lazy once-over as she kills the engine and pulls off her helmet. There's heat in the searing once-over she gives me.

"Morning, Wolf," I call out sweetly, propping one hand on my hip in a way that makes my breasts shake a little at the movement. "Sleep well?"

"Put some clothes on, you silly bitch. Are you trying to catch pneumonia?"

"Relax." I flash her a grin, batting my lashes as innocently as I can manage, and sweep my hair back to wring it out, offering up my full naked body to her eyes. "You're the one who's early. And I have to wash some time. Right?"

Her scowl deepens, eyes flicking over my curves appreciatively despite her scathing tone. "Then wash. But do it inside where you're less likely to be seen by half the goddamned city."

"Oh, yeah, it's an exhibitionist's dream out here," I say, staring around exaggeratedly at the empty fields. I turn to pick up the bucket, making sure my legs are wide apart as I bend.

I'm not stupid. I don't want to die. And I know my best chance at getting out of this whole situation with my life is playing nice with the Big Bad Wolf for now. But if Lyssa wants me to behave…well, she's barking up the wrong tree.

Finally, I straighten with a heavy sigh, wringing out my hair again ostentatiously. "Just give me a minute to get decent."

The look she shoots me is pure, unadulterated exasperation, but the way her heated glance skates over my ass as I turn away says she's enjoying the view plenty. And hell, I don't mind her looking, either. Sometimes a girl has to take her pleasures where she can find them.

By the time I rejoin Lyssa in the barn a few minutes later, my hair is up in a damp ponytail and I'm dressed in the sports bra and panties I took out with me. I stroll right up to where Lyssa is unpacking what looks like more canned food (ugh), resting my hip against the workbench as I give her a lingering once-over.

"So, what's on the agenda for today? I promise to pay very...very...close attention."

The flat, utterly unamused look she slants my way makes me grin. God, there's something about getting a rise out of her so effortlessly that just delights me. It's like I'm hardwired to poke at the big, growly beast until it snarls and snaps trying to scare me off.

Besides, seeing that little muscle flexing in her jaw, the way her nostrils flare like she's fighting to keep her cool...it feeds a hunger in me that has nothing to do with the not-very-appetizing protein bars she's just strewn across the bench.

Before I can taunt her further, Lyssa is lunging at me with whip-crack speed and brutal force. I barely have time to gasp before she slams me back against the nearby wooden wall, pinning me with the solid weight of her body from knees to shoulders. My pulse kicks up high as that dark, fiery gaze burns into me, daring me to fight back even as arousal flares through me.

Well, then. Looks like it's going to be one of those days.

I shove her off, and then I don't think about anything more except throwing myself into the fray with her, focused solely on tapping into the raging well of need howling inside me. We grapple and twist in an effort to gain the upper hand, and when Lyssa finally has me pinned on my back, chest heaving with exertion, I almost wish she'd just…

Just take me right there in the sweaty aftermath.

The thought alone has me arching up, looking for any kind of friction against the liquid heat building between my thighs.

The way her eyes darken knowingly, like she can smell my desire in the air between us, almost makes me moan aloud. For one second, I'm convinced she's going to rip away our flimsy layers of clothing and satisfy this exquisite torture we've been stoking since she brought me out here.

Just take me, I think deliriously, arching up again in silent invitation. I want this. I want you. Ruin me completely before you finish me off like you promised.

But her face hardens and the spell is broken. She rolls off me without a word, leaving me sprawled and throbbing and inwardly screaming.

"You've gotten sloppier, if that's even possible," she tells me, raking a hand through her mussed hair and retightening her ponytail. "If that's the best you've got, there's no way in hell you'll be able to handle Ariadne, much less Grandmother."

I force a harsh laugh as I sit up. "I only bring my best stuff when you do, Wolf. You think I was sloppy? You were?—"

I shut up as she glares at me. For a second, I think I've pushed too far. But then she motions for me to grab one of the protein bars. I eat in tense silence for a long moment before I grow restless again, casting around for a new target to needle her with.

"So when do we take this show on the road?" I finally ask between bites. "I'm getting antsy just sitting around on my ass all day."

Another scathing look. "Just cool your heels a little longer. I'm waiting for intel about Grandmother's new setup to come in. We don't know where she is. And if you really are sitting around on your ass all day, allow me to suggest you fucking train more. You go in against her like you did just now and we're both fucked."

Well, that's just rude. I pick irritably at the tasteless protein bar. "I'm getting better. You said it yourself."

"And now you're worse. You want me to lie, tell you that making gooey eyes at your opponent like you did at me will win you a fight? It won't."

"I wasn't making gooey eyes."

Lyssa tosses aside the rest of her protein bar with a sigh. "What the fuck is wrong with you, Scar? You really are better than this, normally."

I chew for a long time on my mouthful of protein. There is something that's been on my mind, something apart from Lyssa. "I want to see my parents before we go after Grandmother. Before...everything ends, one way or another."

Shock flits across Lyssa's face, rapidly flattening into a guarded mask as she gives a sharp shake of her head. "Sorry, can't do it. Your parents are off-limits until this whole mess is over. End of story."

Her refusal ignites the ember of rage always so close to the surface these days. I slam the rest of my protein bar down on the table. "Don't be fucking ridiculous! You want to kill me, but you won't even allow me the courtesy of saying goodbye to my parents first?"

"Your parents are only alive right now thanks to my people keeping them under protection," she shoots back, rising to her feet as well. All that glorious, electrifying tension from before has morphed into something darker. Something volatile. "You're only alive right now because the Syndicate thinks you're dead. We can't just rock up to your parents' house to say hi, Scarlett. It's too risky."

"Bullshit," I snarl. "You could send them away with no problems at all. Tell them you want to speak to my parents. You could do it—you just won't."

We stand glaring at each other, bodies tensed for the inevitable explosion as we silently dare the other to make the first move. Lyssa's the one who finally breaks the tension with a roll of her eyes. "You want to go see your parents that much? Fine. I'll make arrangements. Long as you promise me you'll train harder. Deal?"

The sudden acquiescence deflates my rage as quickly as it came. I blink rapidly, derailed by the abrupt shift from hostility to accommodation. "You're...serious?"

"Dead serious," she confirms flatly. Her eyes are hard. "Because you're right. You deserve a chance to say your goodbyes properly."

Her head cants ever so slightly, the words hanging heavily between us. I swallow hard at the ominous implication behind them. But I'm too grateful to care. "Thank you, Lyssa. I...I don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything," she mutters. "Just take your training seriously. I mean it, Scar. I'll see you."

With that, she turns and stalks toward the barn doors, and I'm too off-kilter to even beg her to stay a little while longer like I usually do.