Page 268 of Rage

“Stress and anxiety is a cause for concern, Ms. Emerson. But before we go into a plan for helping you reduce that, I have strict orders from the Second Heir.”

Scarlett’s heart was in her throat. What was it? A terrible motive, a choice to be made without her permission, a revelation of secret plans she’d naively walked into–

“How would you like to proceed? Would you like to terminate this pregnancy or carry to full term?”

The question hung in the air for some time. Scarlett blinked back her shock with raised brows and long lashes. “What does Josephine want?”

“It’s not about what the Second Heir wants. It’s about whatyouwant, Ms. Emerson.”

Scarlett nodded, her heart in her throat. She never had a choice in the matter. Not when she was told what she could and couldn’t eat, beaten if she stepped out of line, pushed into holding her tongue.

The only thing she could do was stand from the little gurney she’d been settled upon, hands clutching each other like a vice. “Can I come back later and give you my answer then?”

She was expecting a raised brow of annoyance, but the Medic merely smiled warmly and said, “Of course. I’ll call you after your test results are in. Take care, Ms. Emerson.”

Scarlett shook the whole way out. But when she popped the passenger door open to Liam’s car, she looked at him with all the conviction she had and said, “Take me to Josephine.”

Chapter Nine

Scarlet Blood

Hightown was crafted with Grecian architecture fit for royalty that matched the interior of the Dark Palace. It was a place where nobles ran rampant, layered in fashionable drapes of silk and chiffon, eating to their heart's content, and spoiling themselves with material items while the rest of Nameless City suffered.

Scarlett already felt rotten, blinded by Jordan’s dance and her eventual fall at the hands of an Heir.

She wanted to be like the women with shopping bags lining their long, slender arms. She wanted to be as beautiful as them, shining in the sunlight. She wanted the diamond jewels that touched their fingers, that made them a goddess among heathens. She wanted all that and more.

Liam couldn’t go further. She’d gleaned that from the way the lens of his glasses darkened along with the car windows. If anyone found out he’d turned on the First Heir even slightly the consequences would be dire.

Instead, he kissed her cheek and offered her a pristine smile, one she hadn’t seen before, and said, “You’ll be okay.”

Scarlett didn’t shed a tear until she left the expanse of his car and watched him pull away. Then, she turned towards a building known as Phantasm and carefully stepped over the threshold.

Scarlett knew Doll Houses.

She’d known them intimately, dressed in the finery of a grown woman when she was anything but, bore the consequence of her beauty at the hands of Pigs and more.

For moments Scarlett wandered the halls of Phantasm with a hand to the chest, heart in her throat, worried Josephine Singh was just like her brother–maybe worse.

Her anxieties were quelled when she met with a breathtaking woman in a dainty dress, goosebumps on her flesh from the chill that swept around the lobby where several women (a bit like Scarlett–out of place) sat about, twiddling their thumbs.

“I’m sorry, I was dropped here by my chauffeur. I’m looking for Josephine.” Her eyes strayed upon the love marks that purpled the woman’s collarbones.

“Oh, of course! You must be Ms. Emerson. You’re the one Joey put up at the Willow Estate. She talked up a storm about you. She’s been entertaining a few guests this morning, but I’m sure she can make some time. Come.”

Scarlett could do nothing but shoot a glance in the direction of the lobby, of the girls who refused to meet her gaze. She had questions, too many questions, yet followed after the nameless woman in a nameless city.

She wondered what kind of company Josephine could possibly be keeping. Something to help bloodlet the poison that seeped into the Dark Palace, to overthrow the First Heir and whoever else stood in her way.

But then, when the woman stopped by a single golden door and threw it open, Scarlett wasn’t thinking of anything at all. She was merely startled at the sight of an inner chamber from 15th century relics and forsaken architecture. The slanted gothceiling that led to a hidden nook accessible by a ladder tucked away, reachable only by a particular device, sported a strange glow to it.

The two posters that held up the nook were draped with satin black curtains and while the remainder of the chamber was layered in rosewood, Scarlett couldn’t help the blush seeping into her cheeks when realizing she’d walked into a sex party.

It shouldn’t have embarrassed her, what with every piece of furniture occupied with writhing, naked bodies. Cast in red and orange lowlights that flickered from the nearby sconces, it reminded her much of last night; a mere figment of her imagination, a dream she wished was reality.

Women in all shapes and sizes were enamored by each other’s presence, caring little for where they were so long as who they were around. They were intertwined limbs kissing and touching to their hearts desire. They dug their nails into the wide hips of their lovers, knotted them in thick strands of hair, rousing moans that rolled through the chamber like prayers at dawn.

There were no plastic baggies full of X or lines of coke prepared for consumption. Only euphoria fueled Phantasm’s inner circle, pulling carnal pleasure from the depths of their soul.

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