Page 11 of Ruthless Legacy

I chuckle weakly. “I never do what people expect me to.”

“You like to live life on the edge, huh?”

“Yeah, but not the edge of a cliff.”

This earns me a deep laugh from him, “Yes Scarlet, I figured that one out when I had to dive into that fucking water after you.”

I yawn. The events of today have left me exhausted and I have no clue what time it is.

“Go to sleep Scarlet, I’ll keep you warm.”

***

I wake up in the morning and stretch. I slept like a log, which is unusual for me. Nightmares plague my sleep most nights. Wow, this mattress is so soft, it’s like lying on air. I open my eyes and for a minute I’m disorientated. Then I remember. I remember the stranger who made me watch him and his friends shove a boy’s mouth full of soil and pretend to bury him alive. Sadistic fucker. I roll over hesitantly and breathe out a sigh of relief at finding I’m alone. Thank Christ for that small mercy. The Savage boy is nowhere to be seen. I climb out of the warmth and comfort of his bed and search for my clothes. Shit! I left my clothes in the car last night. I look down at the large male t-shirt that’s skimming my thighs. This will have to do. Luckily, I don’t have far to go. I look at the clock on the bedside table. It’s only six-thirty in the morning, so I should be able to make it home before anyone realises I have been gone all night.

Opening the bedroom door ever so carefully and quietly, I jog to the stairs. I peep down to see if I can see or hear any movement, and when I don’t, I dart for the stairs. At the bottom, I have a quick look around then head to the front door. I say a silent prayer as I carefully turn the door handle and send a quick thanks to my guardian angel when it opens. With one last quick look over my shoulder, I’m out of there like a whippet. I head round to the back of property, to where I know there is a gap in-between the fencing that separates the two properties and climb through. That’s the first hurdle done. Now to get back into my grandfather’s house unnoticed. As I make my way towards the house, I hide in the treeline listening for any signs of life. I make a run for it and when I hit the back wall of the house, I have to quickly duck down when I see Edith in the kitchen window. She sings as she goes about her chores. I crouch down and crawl along until I get to the back door, opening it ever so slightly to slide inside.

When I make it to my bedroom, I am gasping for breath. At least no one saw me. It would have been all kinds of awkward having to explain to my new guardian why I am sneaking back into the house at the crack of dawn in nothing but a boy’s t-shirt. I climb into bed and snuggle under my covers. I should be able to get a half hour nap in before I have to get up.

It feels like my eyes haven’t been shut for more than fifteen minutes, when Edith knocks at the door and bustles into the room, all sunshine and light.

“Good morning, Eliza. Time to get up and ready for your first day.” She comes over to my bedside and places a glass of orange juice down on the side.

“It’s too early,” I groan, pushing my face into the pillow, hoping she’ll go away.

“Nonsense. You start school at half-past eight. You need time to shower and change and eat a nutritious breakfast.”

I lift my head of the pillow and stare at her. “Did you say school starts at eight-thirty? What kind of school makes kids starts so early?”

She chuckles at me and shakes her head. “The type that offers the best education money can buy. Come on now, up you get,” she insists. “I’ll see you in the kitchen for breakfast.”

Groaning, I sit up and yawn. Today is going to be a long day thanks to those dickhead Aces and their stupid games. I smile mischievously to myself. They are going to get a shock today when I rock up to their posh private school and they realise they got their assumptions about me all wrong. Gypsy girl, ha! Wait until they find out who my grandfather is and that I live next door to Savage, in a house just as big and grand as his own.

The shower is amazing, I could stay in it all day, but breakfast calls. I frown as I stare in the mirror at my reflection. The navy and yellow uniform is not my style, and the yellow doesn’t go with my burgundy-coloured hair. I have dried my hair and styled it in loose beachy waves, leaving it flowing down my back. I hate tying my hair up, because it exposes the large scar on my neck, and that leads to questions I do not want to answer. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not ashamed of my scars. They are my reminder that I survived death. They are a reminder of what I have come through and of my inner strength.

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