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Want Scarlett more.
That’s the really shocking thing to me. That there could be something in this world I love more than my family in the Syndicate. I trail my fingers up the elegant curve of Scarlett’s spine as I ponder, and she shivers, rolling those haunting hazel eyes my way with a look that’s one part contentment, one part query.
“So,” she murmurs. “Do I still need to watch my back around you?”
The words jar me from the tender moment as effectively as a slap to the face. “What do you mean?”
“You follow orders,” she states, simple and matter-of-fact. “Are you still planning to follow the order to kill me?”
I stare at her for a long beat. “Doesn’t the fact I stepped in when Hadria was trying to kill you show you what my thoughts on that matter are?”
Scarlett searches my face with that uncanny, too-perceptive stare of hers. “The thing is, Lyssa...” she says softly, without heat or judgment. Just quiet resignation. “What happens when we go back? Because we’re going back to Elysium when this is over. You said we would.”
“I’m not going to let them kill you.” It comes out immediately, no thought needed.
“But—”
“Scar,” I sigh, “maybe you should look at actions rather than words.”
That’s the only solid, tangible proof I have to show where my allegiances truly lie. Whether Scarlett chooses to put faith in that proof…well, that’s up to her.
She she sits up and wraps her arms around her knees.
“Look, we don’t have time to waste on brooding,” I try. “We need to get on with our mission.”
Scarlett looks at me over her shoulder. “And what happens when the mission is done?”
“For fuck’s sake,” I snap, sitting up to make her turn and face me. “I won’t let the Syndicate harm you, and I—I don’t expect you to come back with me to Elysium, either.”
Surely that’s the end of it. Surely she’ll drop this agonizing line of questioning and refocus on the mission.
“That’s not what I meant,” she says softly. She scoots away from me and gets up to pull on her underwear. “But like you said, we should get on with the job.”
It would be so much easier to let her shut down completely, to let professional detachment swallow us both. Less messy. Less raw.
Less fucking complicated.
But I can’t do it. Not anymore. So, cursing every wall I ever built up inside myself that now makes this so goddamn hard, I slide up behind Scarlett and pull her into me, wrapping my arms around her and pressing my lips to her shoulder.
And then I mumble the words I need to say.
“What?” She goes still in my arms, then turns around to face me. “What did you just say?”
I swallow the sigh. Why does this have to be such a big deal? She knows exactly what I said, and I know exactly what she wanted to say in the car…
But I repeat it.
Because it needs to be said.
“I love you. I love you, Scarlett, so I’m not going to let anyone kill you, least of all me. And as for what happens after the mission, after Grandmother is gone…” I give a helpless shrug. “I want to be with you. Whatever else happens, I know that much.”
Scarlett reaches up, her fingertips sliding across my cheek in a tender caress, and then she smiles, wide and generous. “Why is it so hard to say?” she asks wistfully. “I wanted to say it before, in the car, but…”
“Because everything Grandmother did to us was supposed to teach us that love didn’t exist. That it was a lie, something to use to exploit people.”
Her eyes, those twin forest pools, darken. “But she was wrong, Lyssa. And nothing she does now can change the fact that I love you, too.”
I’m surprised at how hard the words hit when I actually hear them. “You’re…sure?”
