Page 11 of It Shouldn't Be You
“This is it. Having second thoughts already?”
“Oh, I’m having fifth thoughts by this point.” She laughs, turning to look at me. Fuck, her laugh is so pretty. It reminds me of wind chimes and summer days. I wonder what I’d have to do to hear it every day.
“Anything I can do to help with that? I know this whole situation isn’t ideal, but it is what it is, Princess. Jokes aside, I’ll do anything I can to make this transition easier for you, and I’ll never intentionally hurt or lead you to harm's way.”
“That’s sweet. But I don’t know you. I want to trust you; life would be so much easier if I did. But it’s hard, you know?”
“I get that. I’m just laying it out there. I’ll give you all the time and space you need. And in the meantime, I’ll do what I can to help you feel like you can trust me.”
By the time we reach Glasgow, it’s dark, and Abigail has fallen asleep. Head resting on the window as we wind our way through the busy streets of Glasgow until we get past the city limits and make our way up the mountains.
Pulling up to our compound always gives me anxiety. As a kid, this place was my prison. The only people behind these gates were Clan members, and everyone feared my father to the point no one would dream of crossing him. There was no escaping him here.
Now, driving through the gate, into a place full of people who aren’t sure if they should trust me, isn’t the most welcoming feeling. It’s nowhere near as bad as it used to be considering I’m not actively fearing for my life every second of every day anymore, but it’s still far from welcoming.
Bringing Abigail into this mess is probably about the cruellest thing I could do to my wife, but my options are limited. It’s expected of me to live here on the compound with everyone. The only blessing is that no one has access to the main house except for those I put on the list or those I invite in. Other than that, there’s not much I can do to protect her from the shit storm brewing here.
Not unless I want to start a war.
A war I can’t afford to start until I get the answers that only the Highlands of Scotland can give me.
Answers that some of these men would kill me to ensure I don’t find.
Chapter 8
To call this place big would be an understatement—it's a massive fortress. With ten-foot-high walls shielding it from the outside world and a huge circular driveway featuring a Celtic cross at the centre, the whole compound screams, 'don't fuck with us.' On either side of the main house, other houses fan out in a Z-shape, leading to two long, rectangular buildings that Logan explains are dorms that connect to the front wall. The whole Clan lives within this compound—families and higher-ups in the houses, and soldiers in the dorms. With only a few people have access to the main house: us, Alex, and my soon-to-be guards.
As he shows me around the ground floor of the main house, my jaw drops. There's a massive living room with sliding glass doors to the garden and an archway leading to an equally large dining room. One wall of the dining room showcases a beautifully crafted marble Celtic cross with a dragon wrapped around it, mirroring the Clan’s initiation tattoo. The plush leather chairs and black table amplify the room's grandeur. Healso shows me the kitchen and a downstairs bathroom before taking me upstairs to show me my bedroom, which shares an ensuite with his. Having my own bedroom wasn’t a luxury I dared hope for, but I’m grateful for it. Having my own space, my private sanctuary, is invaluable, and if sharing a bathroom is the only compromise, it’s a no brainer. I prefer locking both doors and sharing counter space to sharing a bed with a stranger—no matter how hot he may be.
As Logan promises to introduce me around and give me a full tour later, I quickly get dressed in dark ripped skinny jeans, a blood-red corset top, and biker boots. Maybe I'm dressing to impress, or even to tease a bit. I need to figure out where we stand and what he's really looking for in this marriage. Just as I'm about to go look for him, there’s a knock on my door. Opening it, I find Logan on the other side. His double-take at my outfit brings a smirk to my lips. “Like what you see, husband?”
“Oh, you’re dangerous,” he growls, stepping aside to let me out and placing a hand on my bare shoulder blades. Ignoring the jolt that courses through me, I let him lead me down the winding staircase towards the dining room. Seeing this place bathed in the early morning sunlight is a completely different experience and does wonders for making it not feel as dark and masculine as it did last night.
“I figured we’d start off easy and get some breakfast before throwing you to the wolves.”
Considering all I ate yesterday was that buffet breakfast and some drive-thru chicken nuggets and chips, the cooked breakfast and cereals has my mouth watering.
Commotion in the hallway interrupts us seconds before Alex joins us with Cole and a slightly older guy, who looks rough around the edges with a frown fixed firmly on his face close on his heels.
“Morning, sunshine. Your guard dog is here and ready for duty along with Smithy.” Alex makes the introductions before taking a seat to my left while Logan sits on my right at the head of the table. Smithy takes the seat opposite me, forcing Cole into the seat opposite Alex.
When the awkward silence becomes too stifling, I roll of my eyes and quip, “Who died? I mean, other than my freedom, that is.”
Laughter breaks the tension, and small talk resumes as we start eating. Growing up around Owen and Matt taught me how quickly men can devour food so I make sure to load my plate up before it’s all gone.
“Well, I guess I’ll leave you guys to it. Lo, come meet me when you’re free, yeah?” At Logan’s nod, Alex excuses himself.
“We should get your ID sorted so you can come and go as you please,” he suggests, helping me up from the table. The hand on my back feels possessive, but his confidence and the way he leads feel strangely right. It’s a heady sensation that tests every inch of my willpower with every step we take.
As we pass the dorms, he points out where Cole and Smithy will stay, then adds, “The dorms aren’t fit for you. So please don’t go looking for them. We’ll get your phone set up with everyone’s numbers so you can ring around instead of having to wander here. Fuck knows what you’d walk in on. Think a college dorm and time it by a hundred.”
Yeah…no thanks.
Cole and Smithy trail behind us as we make our way back to the main house, my brand-new ID card in hand. Apparently, this bad boy is my all-access pass to the whole compound, and as Logan shows me the garden, I compare how different things are here. While Jonathan is certainly no stranger to security, thegated community my parents’ house was in felt exactly like that: a community. This place feels like an army base, and I doubt my new neighbours would take kindly to me popping in for a cup of tea or to borrow some milk.
Standing on the decking, looking out at the pool and neatly trimmed lawn, I can’t shake the feeling that this place is in serious need of a makeover. Cole and Smithy fall into the shadows, allowing me and Logan some privacy.
“This place is…something. You grew up here?” I can't imagine living somewhere so cold and militant as a child. The vast grounds don’t make up for the atmosphere of the place in my eyes. This is where hopes and dreams die. Where light gets snuffed out in a blink of an eye.
