Chaos by Sarah Bailey

Eight

Drake

I stared Mason Jones down because I sure as shit wasn’t going to let the guy intimidate me. He didn’t deserve our time nor attention, but he’d left us with little choice. I didn’t want him making a scene in our building. It was better to deal with him here on our turf.

“She’s here. You took her.”

I shoved off Tonya’s desk, digging my hands in my pockets to prevent him from seeing my clenched fists. Prescott had accused me of not caring about Scarlett’s feelings. I cared. The fact this cunt had physically hurt her pissed me off, but I didn’t show it. I couldn’t afford to allow those feelings of rage and resentment out. People often thought West had one hell of a temper on him. They hadn’t seen me lose it. I could be calm and controlled, but push me too hard and you would live to regret it.

“Did you expect anything less? She’s ours.”

He took a step towards me, the anger in his brown eyes trying to burn a hole in me, but I remained unaffected. He could glare at me all he wanted, it wouldn’t change facts. We had taken back what belonged to us. It might not have been our plan, but circumstances had changed. And now we had something to hold over her, we could keep our woman in line. We could keep her here with us where she should be.

“She’s not a piece of property.”

“Oh really now? Funny you say that when your employers have spent the past ten years brainwashing her into thinking we’re monsters and using her for their petty and pointless revenge. Tell me how she’s not a piece of property to them, because I’d love to know.”

Mason let out a stuttered fake laugh.

“You are monsters.”

I smiled very, very slowly, taking my hands from my pockets and spreading them.

“Are we? Pray tell me what makes us so.”

He stabbed a finger in my direction.

“You fucking know why.”

I tutted and rubbed my chin. If he wanted to throw around accusations, he could. Didn’t mean we had to listen to them.

“Theories and conspiracies don’t make up hard facts, Mason. If you’re going to accuse us of something, you better have proof.”

The fire in his eyes would have made a lesser man flinch but Mason didn’t intimidate me. If anything, I saw him as a fuckwit who hid behind lies and deceit. I might be a master manipulator, and I was fucking proud of it, but this guy, he pretended to be nice. That’s where I drew the line. Being nice was a fucking act. And one I despised.

“You know what you did. You can stand there and act like you’re innocent, but I know. We know.”

I wanted to laugh. Yeah, I knew what he was talking about, but I wouldn’t let him know. Had too much self-preservation to ever reveal those secrets. The last thing I’d ever describe myself as was innocent, so he was barking up the wrong tree with that statement.

“You make such a compelling case for your suspicions. How could anyone not believe you.”

Prescott snorted. Mason glared at him as if he’d only just noticed Prescott standing by the window.

“Fuck you. Tell me where she is.”

Prescott stepped towards him, his blue eyes turning dark.

“As if you really give two shits about where she is. You’re just trying to save your precious hide.”

“I care about Scarlett far more than you lot ever did.”

Prescott had been slightly hunched, but he straightened to his full height. He towered over Mason like he did most people.

“You care about her, do you? Is that why you hurt her, huh? I saw the bruises and I wasn’t fucking impressed.”

Mason took a step back, his brow furrowing.

“What bruises?”

Prescott scoffed.

“As if you don’t know.”

The confusion on Mason’s face was evident. Did Scarlett not show him what he’d done to her on Friday morning? We’d seen them last night at the warehouse when West had held up her arm. Seen the evidence with our own damn eyes. Prescott wouldn’t lie about it, but the image was branded in my retinas. Mason had inflicted those bruises in anger. And I wasn’t inclined to give the fucker the benefit of the doubt.

“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”

“The bruises on her arm,” I said. “You call us monsters, but we’re not the ones abusing her. She wanted to get away from you.”

Mason took another step back. Pain flashed in his eyes. Good, he should feel fucking pain for what he’d done. I wished I could gut the man where he stood. I’d take full pleasure in destroying him. Ripping the man apart piece by piece. I’d take his damn life, because we were fucking owed it for all the shit he’d caused.

“That’s what she told you?”

“She doesn’t need you,” Prescott spat at him. “Stay away from her.”

“As if I’m going to believe anything coming out of your mouths. You lot are a bunch of lying, cheating, murderous scum. You belong in the gutter you grew up in.”

Prescott ground his teeth. Mason was getting to him. I gave him a look and he backed off towards the window again. My gaze turned back to Mason. We might have been born in the damn gutter to working-class families, but we were wealthy now. Worked our way up from nothing. And we did it to get our girl back.

“You can think whatever you want, Mason,” I told him, my voice low. “Doesn’t change the facts. You stole her from us. And when she finds out, she will never forgive you.”

Mason looked between the two of us as if contemplating my words.

“Why haven’t you told her who you are?”

“What does it matter to you, huh?”

He didn’t deserve to know anything about us. He would only report back to the fucking Carvers. We weren’t stupid enough to reveal anything to him, nor Scarlett for that matter.

“If you want her back so badly, why not tell her the truth? Why play all these games and toy with her?”

I almost laughed. She was an agent of his employers. Until she remembered on her own, we wouldn’t interfere. There would be no point. Scarlett wouldn’t believe us. She had no reason to. Not when those fuckers had taught her we were her enemies. The people she needed to take down. And if he couldn’t see it, then he was an idiot.

“We don’t answer to you. Our reasons are our own.”

“So that’s it? You’re just keeping her?”

“Unless you want us to destroy her image of you completely, then I suggest you turn around and walk away.”

He was right up against the lift doors, having backed off from both of us completely.

“Don’t tell her.”

I smiled at him.

“Stay the fuck away from her and we’ll keep your sordid little secret.”

Mason pressed the button to call the lift. The doors opened straight away as it hadn’t gone anywhere. He stepped in, watching me with hatred in his eyes. He could hate me all he wanted. What he’d done to Scarlett was far worse than anything me or the others could ever do.

“This isn’t over, Drake.”

Those were his last words as the doors shut. I rolled my eyes and glanced at Prescott.

“He’s going to be a problem.”

Prescott gave me a scathing look.

“And? He and the whole fucking world could be a problem right now. I care more about her than that prick.”

No fucking surprises there. He hadn’t calmed down. Mason’s words had probably made everything worse.

“We’re going to do this now?”

“We sure as fuck are.”

I sighed and looked away.

“How can we help her remember, Pres? If she didn’t recognise us back when she first walked in here, then how is anything we do now going to change matters?”

We weren’t medical professionals. Reminding Scarlett of who she was wouldn’t be an easy or simple task. And it could backfire. Prescott was the one who liked to take risks. I needed to know all the possible outcomes, and work out how to mitigate them if things went sour. In a lot of ways, I admired Prescott for his ability to throw caution to the wind. He was a big part of our success. But Scarlett wasn’t Fortuity. She was human. We were complicated beings. I was more cautious when it came to dealing with her.

“It’s already started, Drake. She needs to be pushed in the right direction. To trust the things she’s seeing. Right now, she can’t tell if they’re real.”

My eyes flicked back to him.

“Has she told you exactly what she’s remembered?”

“Well, no and now I’ve fucked it all up, she won’t trust me with it. We’re better off getting Francis to try.”

He said the last part with no small amount of resentment bleeding through his words. He was clearly sore over the fact Scarlett had chosen Francis to spend the night with. Wasn’t exactly Francis’ fault. He was the lesser of all evils in her eyes. West had forced her to kill, I’d pissed her off by fucking her afterwards and Prescott had betrayed her trust in him. Francis was a fucking saint compared to us.

“I’ll talk to him.”

“You need to start acting like you give a shit about her too. I’m beginning to wonder if you even want her back.”

I didn’t answer to him or have to prove a single damn thing.

“If you choose to think I don’t care, it’s on you.”

He scoffed.

“Francis makes it clear, so do I. Hell, even West in his own fucked up way shows the entire world how in love with her he is, but you… you sit there and do nothing. Own your fucking emotions for once in your life, Drake, because fuck knows bottling all that shit up has only ever brought you pain. You think we don’t know how little you sleep at night, huh? We all know.”

And with that, he walked over to the lift and slammed his hand down on the button. He might have said them in anger, but those words hit the nail on the head. I did bottle shit up. It plagued me at night, keeping me awake with what-ifs and what could have beens. Talking about my feelings wasn’t something I did. Not since… her. And right now, I didn’t trust Scarlett. Not when she couldn’t remember me.

Perhaps Prescott was right. Maybe we needed to push harder. Help her recall the memories she’d lost. But if we did, would she hate the four of us for what happened that night? Would she blame us for setting off a chain of horrific events and ruining her life?

I guess the real question I had to answer was… am I willing to risk everything to return Scarlett to the person she was before?