Page 59 of Shadows Within
“Is she safe?”
“I don’t know.” My honesty punctures her like a bullet to the chest. She might not be close with her mom, but she still loves her.
“I’m sorry, Scarlett. I’m trying to get as much information as I can.”
“What if something happens to her?” Tears fill her eyes, but they don’t fall.
Honesty is the best thing I can offer her.
“I’ve seen it all, Angel. It’s hard to make it out of this life any other way.”
My words aren’t comforting, not when I know that she wants honesty. I grab her hand. The heat between our fingers pulls us closer. She takes a step and wraps her arms around me, melting into my chest. The smell of her sweet hair under my jaw overpowers the scent of roses. I rest my chin on her head.
I must tell her about that night four years ago. If she knew the things I’ve done, she wouldn’t be clinging to me.
Emotional Confessions
Scarlett
We stand in this still embrace for a few minutes before I back away and leave him just as I found him, alone in the greenhouse. I need to think about what he just said to me, and I know that if I stay any longer, I’ll likely give into his lust.
My headlights shed a bright light on our dark house as I pull into the driveway. Dad didn’t leave the porch light on—he must be out. I get out of the car, go in through the side door, and enter the kitchen. I lock the door behind me and turn the porch light on. Chinese takeout is my only option as I glance into the fridge. I open the paper box, grab a fork, and inhale the noodles. I haven’t had much of an appetite over the last week, but now that I’ve vented to Sophia and had the dreaded conversation with Callum, I feel like a weight has lifted off my chest.
Worrying about Mom isn’t new for me. Growing up, there were many times where she didn’t come home. I should’ve known then. I think of myself as a young teenager, finding out that my mom is a prostitute for some of Millhaven’s finest—my full body shivers. I wouldn’t have been able to process that then—I barely can now.
I finish my leftovers and leave the box on the counter. I head upstairs and open the bathroom door. I’m too tired to jump in the shower, so instead I wash my face and make my way over to my room. I change into fresh sweatpants and a baggy t-shirt, climb into bed, and pull the covers over my head as I lie on my side. It’s been a long day. I need sleep, but my mind won’t let me rest. I roll over and look up at the ceiling.
I can’t help but think about Callum and The Society.
What kind of things have they made him do?I wonder if he’ll ever open up to me about any of it. I can tell by the way he speaks about them that he harbours a lot of resentment toward these Society men. His father must be involved. Callum said they’re made up of the upper echelon of our town and his dad is within that circle. His father also went to Langford—there’s a hall named after the Mercer family. All the Mercers went to Langford. Their legacy must be the reason why Callum can’t get out.
I think about Harrison and Stirling, and wonder if they know what’s going on behind closed doors. I know what it’s like to have everyone critique what you’re doing, but the events taking place in their lives are on another level. I can’t imagine how they feel versus what they must conceal.
Silence.
I hear the furnace kick on, followed by a scratching noise that I’m unfamiliar with. I look to my closed bedroom door and hear faint footsteps.
“Dad?” I call out. Usually, he wouldn’t be this quiet coming in. He doesn’t answer.
“Dad!” I call out again, my pulse picks up.
There’s no response. I sit up and push myself back, against the headboard. I look around the dark room, wondering what I can use to defend myself against an intruder.
Before I can reach for anything on my nightstand, my door slowly opens. A tall frame appears in the shadows. He lifts his hand and runs it through his hair. His familiar broad figure steps toward me.
“Jesus, Callum, you scared the shit out of me. You couldn’t knock or call me?” I catch my breath as he approaches the edge of my bed.
“If I asked, I knew you might say no. I couldn’t take the chance.”
“So instead, you show up in my room?”
“Yes, Scarlett.”
I glance at the clock—it’s been about an hour since I left him in the greenhouse. He has a different shirt on and wears black leather gloves on his hands.
“Why do you look like a serial killer?” I study him. The room is dark, but I don’t miss his stark reaction.
His laugh surrounds me, pulling me in. I drown in it and close my eyes. His leather covered hands run up my body as his warm breath hits my lips. He doesn’t kiss me. Instead, he hovers there for a moment, our lips an inch apart.
