Adapt (I)
Chapter Fifty Three

BOE

I look down at the mug in my hand, frowning at how empty it is. It is – was - my third cup this morning; much more than I am supposed to have, according to HQ regulation.

Fuck HQ.

The faint smell of whatever was cooked for lunch hangs in the air. It smells something like pork. I had woken up too late for lunch. Caron had come in and set up her own pillow and blanket on the floor of Clark’s room at some point last night, and is sleeping now. If Scarlet wakes, someone will be in there to help her. At some point Clark’s hunger had brought him from Scarlet’s side.

The house seems empty, but I know that Trent has gone to bed after coming home empty handed when checking on the girls we had rescued. Somewhere Jess has the children doing garden chores. She hadn’t made Clarke go to school today.

When I had dragged myself from my bed of blankets on the floor, it was because my phone had been buzzing in my pocket. At first, I had ignored it, guessing it was Alex checking in. I had told him that Scarlet and I were going to hunt down the therians that were kidnapping the girls in this town. When my phones vibration sequence buzzed for the fifth time, I knew that it was more pressing than a check in. When I finally answered he berated me for not picking up earlier, then asked how the hunt went.

I had to tread very carefully. I am confident that Alex had ordered the SWAT team that had interrupted our mission. I am also sure that the objective was to capture Scarlet, not kill Thomas and his gang of merry men.

I don’t trust Alex.

And I don’t think he trusts me.

It had taken a lot of convincing Alex to let me continue my mission with Scarlet, unaltered. I had said a lot of things I did not intend to follow through on. I had reminded him of my spotless record and everything I had done for all hunters. He allowed me to stay on for four days, but I knew he was suspicious.

I have two days left, now, to figure out how I am going to get Scarlet away from here and safely out of HQ’s sight.

And that is only half of the issue.

I still have to figure out how to deal with Logan. He wants Scarlet, just like HQ.

The difference is, I know what HQ wants from Scarlet.

I have no clue what Logan wants with her.

The devil you know...

Scarlet won’t leave her family and friends unprotected. And her family and friends know too much now for us to make a clean break from them. Scarlet would insist on staying in contact with them somehow, which would eventually lead to her being captured by HQ. S~ᴇaʀᴄh the FɪndNovᴇl.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

I let my head fall into my hands. This Gordian knot is impossible to untie. And there does not seem to be a blade strong enough to cut through it.

I rub my eyes until I see spots, and the bruises around my eyes throb. I lift my head at the distinct sound of a door opening and closing followed by a stampede of feet.

I am sitting at the little kitchen island, on one of the two stools. Clark wastes no time pulling out the other stool to sit next to me.

He takes one look at me, then laughs. “You got hit in the face a lot.”

“You should see the other guy.” I joke. Then I look at Jess and realize that probably isn’t an appropriate response to a nine-year-old.

Jess smiles and shrugs as she goes to the sink with the little girl in her arms. “Scarlet and his father wear black eyes all of the time. Don’t worry about it.”

I let out a breath, relieved that I hadn’t over stepped.

“Do you fight bad guys like Scarlet?”

I look back to Clark, who’s expression is open and curious. Not at all afraid.

“I... umm I guess I do.” I say, unsure of exactly how much Clark knows about what Scarlet does.

“Clark, go and wake up your father for something to eat.” Jess says as she finishes washing Tamara’s hands and hands her a towel to pat and clap her hands dry, in the way children do.

Clark groans, but slides off the stool and disappears down the hall.

Jess sets down the little girl, who immediately toddles up to me and yanks on the leg of my jeans. She looks up at me and raises her arms, opening and closing her fists to indicated that she would like to be picked up.

I look over to Jess for approval, who just gives me an expectant smile. With the non-verbal consent, I pick her up and sit her on my lap.

Her blue eyes instantly lock with mine. I am so busy smiling at her happy face that I don’t even notice her hand coming up to gently touch my cheek. The skin where I have been hit is tender, but her touch is so gentle, so unlike a toddler, that I don’t even wince.

“What’s going on, little one?” I ask her, not really expecting a reply.

Her grin broadens, showing off pearly little teeth, but she doesn’t make a sound. She continues to trace her unusually soft touch across my cheeks.

“Tamara hasn’t learnt to talk yet.” Jess says, her gaze fixed on Tamara with a subtly proud smile.

I shrug. “My nephew wouldn’t shut up from the day he figured out how to blow razzberries. It’s a nice change of pace.” I say, giving Tamara a wide smile. Her hands trace my jaw now, exploring the texture of my second day stubble.

Jess’ eyes flick to me, then back to the little girl in my arms. “The doctors say that she might be autistic.”

Tamara’s hands drift back up to my hair, my unkept hair. She tugs on the two-inch-long strand at my ear, then her hand flies to her mop of dark curls. I watch her fingers work as she compares how her hair feels compared to mine.

“I wouldn’t worry about it.” I say. “There certainly are worse things in the world than a brain that works a little differently.”

She looks back at me finally, her expression relaxed but purposeful. “Your right.” She turns and begins to wash her own hands. “So, I hear you and Scarlet make a pretty great team.”

Tamara loses interest in me and turns to the kitchen island where my empty coffee mug is sitting. I hold the handle tight but let her grip at the cup. “I think we do.” I say, simply.

She nods and turns back to me with the towel in her hands. “So, what are your intentions with my daughter.”

I blank at her, then look down at Tamara, confused.

“My eldest daughter.” She corrects, and I realize she is talking about Scarlet.

“Oh-oh.” I stammer and drop my head, a sudden urge to rake my fingers through my hair. But I can’t, because one arm is holding Tamara so she doesn’t fall, and the other is holding the cup so that she can’t throw it on the ground. I let out a nervous laugh. “I see where Scarlet gets her... forwardness.” I want to say abruptness, but I think that may be offensive.

Jess raises one of her dark brows. “It wasn’t that long ago that I was a teenager too. I know your type - thinks a little too much of himself. Girls are conquests above all else. I want to make sure you aren’t just filling in your free time before you’re on to the next girl.”

My jaw hangs open slightly, shocked at how blunt she is being. Then inwardly, I smile. For whatever reason, it makes me happy knowing that Jess cares so much for Scarlet. I know that I should be offended by her words, but she has hit the nail on the head.

Before I met Scarlet, I was arrogant. I had no time or patience for relationships, so a short string of one-night stands was the result. I lost interest in the girls quickly. I never treated them with anything other than cold respect. I also never gave them enough time of day to let them become something more. I didn’t think of myself as a player. I didn’t keep count or go out of my way to find the next girl. However, that doesn’t mean that the rare times I went back to HQ there wasn’t at least a few girls willing.

And, if I am going to be honest, that did fuel some of my ego. Pair that with my reputation as the lone-wolf-hunter and the creator of the Disarm Application, and the ego sitting on my shoulders was sizable.

Then I met Scarlet.

She frustrates me. At times, she infuriates me. She didn’t care about my ego at all. Instead, she unknowingly tore it apart. She bested me in a fight. She made fun of me. She even rejected me the first time I kissed her. Then, when she cleared away the ego, she rebuilt the parts of me that made me who I am, rather than what I am. She laughs at my jokes, takes interest when I talk of software design, and even steps into fights when she thinks my life is in danger. She listens when I speak, which is a new sensation to me. The girls I have been with before didn’t listen. They just mooned.

After a few moments of silence, as I ponder Jess’ question the long way around, I answer in the only way I know how to. “Mrs. Ranger, I think your daughter is the most amazing person I have ever met.”

Jess narrows her chocolate brown eyes. “That’s a good answer.” She hangs the towel she dried her hands with on the small hook by the sink, then goes to the fridge. “But not a direct one.” She grabs out a few items, presumably to make something for dinner, or an afternoon snack. “It is still early days for the pair of you, so perhaps you aren’t sure where you see this going just yet.” She puts all of the items on the kitchen island in front of me, then pulls a chopping board from the drawer. “So, I am just going to leave you with a warning. Scarlet may not think of Trent and I as her parents, but we are, in every way that counts.” She gets a knife from the chopping block and begins cutting up the various vegetables she had chosen from the fridge. “We don’t even know the half of what she has had to deal with in her life. We try our very best to give her the freedom that she needs.” Tamara wriggles in my arms, to reach for some of the vegetables that Jess is chopping. She hands the little girl a chunk of carrot, who proceeds to munch on it with gusto. “So, we let her live by herself, lead her own education and hunt by herself, because tethering her down isn’t going to help her. It would just push her away.” Jess puts down the knife to look straight into my eyes, impressing on me the importance of her next words. “But I have no qualms about sticking my nose into her relationships, because I know how much they can hurt. Scarlet has had enough heartbreak in her life, she doesn’t need any more. So, whatever you intend for Scarlet, whatever comes of this little interest you have in her - if it all ends in flames, you better make sure it’s your heart that gets burned, not hers.” She picks up the knife and begins the chop again. “Because Shakespeare had it wrong. Hell, hath no fury like a mother who thinks her baby has been done wrong by.”

I watch her slicing the celery, feeling more like a twelve-year-old than the nearly twenty-year-old I am. I digest the words with an overbearing agreeance, though. The last thing I want to do is hurt Scarlet. I would cut down everyone that ever tried to hurt her. How strange that in a little over two weeks I grew from being enamoured by Scarlet, to being willing to lay my life on the line for her.

I also think on how I have been the one always laying my heart out for her to pick up. I had been the one to initiate our kisses. I had been the one to admit to the way I feel about her. Other than heated reactions, Scarlet really hasn’t said or done anything to bolster what I think is between us.

My expression turns bemused and I huff a sort of internal laugh. “Trust me, Mrs. Ranger. I can guarantee that if anyone gets hurt by the way I feel about Scarlet, it will be me.” I look down at Tamara who is looking back up at me, her little hand floating up to touch my lips where I’m sure a weak smile of surrender lay. “But she is worth it.”

Jess looks up, pausing mid-cut. Her eyes are still narrowed but she smiles. “Another good answer. You’re right. It would be an honour for her to break your heart.”

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