Page 6 of Scar

His obsession with squirrels had caused him to chase after one in hopes of catching it and making it his pet. Lucky had been frantic, trying to find his son on a property that was still widely undeveloped.

It was Scar who found him. He’d followed the boy’s footprints up towards the front of the drive. The gate that now bordered the VDMC property had not been in existence yet and Scotty had been dangerously close to the road. By then, he knew he wasn’t where he was supposed to be, but he didn’t know how to find his way back to his daddy. Scar had stayed with him, watching over him to ensure he did not get any closer to the road, and had texted Lucky to tell him where to find them.

That was the day Scotty had given Scar his first nose-kiss. Both Lucky and José had tried to stop Scotty, not sure of Scar’s reaction, but the nose-kiss hadn’t scorched Scar as other touches did.

“Thank you for saving me, Uncle Scar. I’m sorry I was bad and got lost. I really like squirrels, but Daddy says I can’t have one as a pet. I like lollipops too, but those are for eating, not for petting.”

The innocence in Scotty’s wide-set eyes had nearly driven Scar to procure all the squirrels in the state to become Scotty’s pets. He would have created an entire menagerie of squirrels just to ensure that little boy smiled. Instead, Scar made sure to give Scotty a lollipop every time he saw him and often visited Scotty in his bedroom after a rough day, just to feel some goodness in his life again. The kid was so pure that he thought his Uncle Scar was magic because he would appear in his second-floor bedroom without needing to use the front door.

And Alpha had just threatened tosnuffthat magic, that goodness, out of the world if Scar did not fall into line.

His body shook with uncontrolled rage as he stared at the picture on the floor.

He could do as he was told. He could obey the rules. Jump, eat, shit when he was told. He could take anything they threw at him, falling even more into the darkness that tainted his soul. Alphawouldleave the VDMC alone. Scar knew him to be a man of his word. Moreover, there was no incentive to harm those in Pennsylvania if Scar submitted. The noose around Scar’s throat no longer existed if he hurt a single person Scar cared about.

And Scar might have done it too. He might have submitted, fallen in line, and done what he was told, become the weapon everyone saw him to be, if anyone else’s picture had landed on the floor in his line of sight.

But it wasn’t anyone else’s picture who landed on the floor. It wasn’t José’s or Abby’s picture. It wasn’t Steel’s or Jenna’s, Demo’s or Paige’s, Lucky’s or Harper’s, Bear’s or Tessa’s, Jumper’s or Jasmine’s, Pirate’s or Sophia’s, Angel’s or Cage’s, Scissors’ or Sissy’s, Papaw’s or Louisa’s. It wasn’t Ghost’s, Keys’, Grumpy’s, Jigsaw’s, Pumpkin’s, Ranger’s, Bones’, or Starbucks’. It wasn’t Carter’s, Lucy’s, Jordan’s, Melanie’s, Ollie’s, Drew’s, Conner’s, Stephanie’s, Maggie’s, Cassie’s, Lila’s, Caleb’s, Georgie’s, Mikey’s, Nelly Beans’, Bree’s, Aaron’s, or SJ’s.

It had beenScotty’spicture.

Scar pivoted on the mattress and stood up. The wires connecting him to the EKG machine pulled on the device now next to him. The blanket that had been on his legs fell to the linoleum floor. Pictures floated down like autumn leaves.

Alpha’s eyes narrowed as he watched Scar with newfound wariness. “What are you doing, Solo?”

Despite not having use of his arms, Scar advanced on the man who’d threatened the lives of his loved ones. Hisfamily.

Alpha was no slacker. He might be in his sixties, but the man had done his time in the field long before he’d taken up a position behind a desk. At five-ten, he was four inches shorter than Scar and still had enough muscle to him to pose a threat.

Scar didn’t care.

He kicked out with his bare foot, sending the EKG machine away from the wall and towards Alpha’s defensive pose. The adhesive on Scar’s chest under the straitjacket pulled free as the machine shot across the room.

Alpha’s amber eyes went wide as he put his arms out to stop the impact, though the machine did not hit him hard enough to do damage. It was merely a distraction.

Scar rolled onto the floor, coming in low. Twisting his legs around Alpha’s, he took the man in the immaculate dark gray suit down to the floor. Alpha landed with a heavy thud. The air escaped his lungs with a painful gasp.

Scar twisted. He might not have the use of his hands, but his elbows were forced into a bent position and he could use them. His right elbow landed in Alpha’s solar plexus, compounding the man’s lack of oxygen by momentarily paralyzing his diaphragm.

It gave Scar the time he needed to reach Alpha’s head. The straitjacket was bound tight, but Scar was used to contorting his body into various compromising positions. He’d trained himself not to be limited by the shape or size of his frame. Herefusedto be held prisoner again and he would never allow harm to come to those he loved.

Not when it was in his power to stop it, no matter how much pain it caused him.

Scar forced his right arm down into his socket. The action was not comfortable but not harmful in the short term. By pushing his arm up in the unnatural position, it created the slack he needed in the fabric to loosen the strap and force his arm down over Alpha’s face. He was not caring in the slightest if he squeezed the man’s head tightly either in his hasty act, but he needed to get his forearm around the man’s trachea. He forced his legs around Alpha’s to immobilize them.

Alpha scrambled, trying to break free of the choke hold he had suddenly found himself in. His struggles were proving futile, though, and Scar only applied more pressure on his windpipe as the seconds ticked by.

Something sharp sliced against the cotton of his pants, but Scar did not budge. He saw Alpha’s hand move again and the glint of silver in the overhead lighting. The groin strap that tied his forearms together suddenly snapped. While this did not break Scar free of the contraption binding his upper half, it did loosen his hold on Alpha’s throat enough for the man to take a gasping breath of air.

Scar fought to regain his grip.

The tip of the blade came down in a backwards jab and nearly landed in Scar’s left eye. He craned his neck just in time, though the blade nicked his earlobe.

Another jab of the blade and Scar was forced to loosen his legs to twist out of the way. Alpha brought up his other hand, driving Scar’s nearly useless left arm up. Scar gritted his teeth, but his arm would not obey his commands. He didn’t know exactly what had been done to repair the ligament and wondered if he’d been given any nerve blockers to help counter the pain. Scar did not take drugs, nothing that could distort reality, and this was one of the reasons why. He could have survived the pain, but not having use of his arm might just prove fatal.

Scar kicked with his heel at Alpha’s groin. Some might consider it a cheap shot, but in Scar’s world, there were no cheap shots. There was life or death, win or lose. Take any opening you could, because your opponent certainly would.

Honor had no place outside a sports ring.

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