Page 65 of Fated to the Hunters
No one spoke until Scarlett turned to walk inside and Mateo softly asked, “Would you like us to bring your things upstairs?”
“Yes, please.”
Ezra helped this time and one by one, they carried the boxes up to Scarlett’s room. Once the last box was placed in front of her bed, they moved to leave—only to be stopped in their tracks.
“You can stay.”
Vince stood by her window, looking out over the lake wondering if they should encourage her to go out for a walk later. Ezra made himself comfortable in her reading chair while Mateo knelt beside her on the floor.
“You can change the room around as you wish,” Mateo offered. “We kept it simple for now, but we can renovate it from top to bottom.”
“Did you make the bed?”
Vince turned to face her again and nodded.
“I want to keep it.”
“The dresser is Vince’s too,” Mateo encouraged.
“Anything you made stays,” she demanded.
Ezra grunted. “Kiss-ass.”
“And Ezra may leave now,” she added with a stern tone.
Ezra stared at her, but she paid him no mind and went about unpacking her boxes. She sifted through the first, then moved to the second, repeating herself without looking up.
“You may leave now.”
For a moment, Vince thought Ezra would fight her, but he only stormed off, the sound of his door slamming echoing through the house.
“Why did you send him away?” Mateo asked, watching her take out a framed picture of her and Kurt.
“He was rude.”
Vince watched as she slowly unpacked, taking her time to decide where she wanted everything to go. She spent more time with her memorabilia than her clothes, finding the right spot. With every photo or souvenir that found a new home, Vince’s heart ached for what Scarlett may have lost.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Scarlett
By dinnertime, the remaining two men retreated, leaving Scarlett alone with all her reminders of the life she’d sacrificed for them. She stared at the pictures decorating the dresser until her eyes began to burn. She didn’t want to cry, didn’t want to mourn the loss of her family—and her only friend. At least, not yet.
Scarlett stood, craving the company of her mates already. As she walked past Ezra’s closed bedroom door, something stung at the back of her mind that felt awfully close to regret. She didn’t like how Ezra couldn’t control his temper. He’d even called her rogue again after she’d asked him not to do it.
With a deep breath, Scarlett knocked and turned the knob. When Ezra didn’t protest, she pushed the door open. Dim candlelight flickered across the walls. Ezra’s taste of furniture was not different from that of his clothes: dark and gloomy. Nothing in his room screamed colour, yet it felt oddly… calm.
Ezra was sitting in a large leather chair by the window, shrouded in darkness by the closed blackout curtains. He had abook in his hands with a candle shining light on the pages he was reading. It seemed old, the pages stained and bound with worn-looking leather.
“You called me rogue.”
“I did.”
“I asked you not to do that.”
“You did.”
There was a part of her that loved his honesty, the way he never excused his behaviour and what he’d done. “Why did you do it?”
