Phantom: A Dark Retelling (Tattered Curtain Series)
Phantom: Act 4 – Scene 29

Sol

Scarlett kneels before me, trying to catch her breath. The view would normally please me and have my cock twitching in my pants, but the look of despair marring her gorgeous face raises the hair on the back of my neck, prompting me to scan the rest of her. sᴇaʀᴄh thᴇ FɪndNøvel.ɴᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

Her black satin dress has a rip in the plunging neckline and a bruise is forming on her cheek. That’s all I need to see to know that someone is going to die tonight.

Fury builds in my chest like a wildfire, ready to burn whoever the fuck touched my muse this way. I breathe slow, heavy breaths in and out of my nose, attempting to calm down. She seems terrified enough, and I don’t want to make it worse. I tilt her head to examine the damage and use my thumb to swipe a tear trailing down her flushed cheek.

“You were right,” she whispers. “About all of it. About Rand—”

Hatred stokes the fire in my chest like gasoline, but I don’t say a word. She tries to avert her gaze, but I don’t let her, tightening my grip on her chin.

“He’s a monster. He said he’s behind my father’s death. He tried to—” She swallows. “Hurt me. He was going to fake my suicide and then go after your family next.”

The blood in my veins burns with rage. This Chatelain fool thinks he can fuck with what is mine? Hurting Scarlet is a direct attack against me and Rand knows it.

It’s a declaration of war.

I’d thought Rand was just an insolent fop. I miscalculated in thinking he’s the same soft kid I grew up with. Ben was right, he’s just as evil as Laurent, maybe worse if I don’t remedy this.

My phone vibrates and I check my watch to see a picture of Rand bleeding in my dungeon and strapped to a chair. A message from Sabine confirms that she’s secured him and that she and Jaime are keeping watch for me until I deal with it in the morning.

Good.

The tension in my back and chest immediately loosens, knowing I can count on my shadows, and that Rand is no longer out in the world with the potential to hurt Scarlett or anyone else in my family.

“I’ll take care of it.” The promise rumbles from my throat. “Be careful on your way back to your room.”

My fingers disappear from Scarlett’s silky skin like it’ll singe me. Her jaw falls with the movement, and panic surfaces in her moonlight gaze. I turn to close my front door, leaving her on my threshold, when she reaches out and grabs my pants leg.

“Wait! I-I’m sorry. I should’ve listened to you, I should’ve trusted you.”

I study her, fighting every muscle that wants to pick her up and take her into my home and never let her leave again. But…

“You made your choice, Scarlett. Twice. I lost every time.”

“No! Please, I made a mistake—”

“No, you didn’t,” I hiss before leaning down and grabbing her hands. “I opened up to you and you believed I was a monster. Don’t feel bad,” I sneer. “You’re not the first. My own mother couldn’t look at my face. It wasn’t until I was fitted with a prosthetic that she could stomach speaking to me again. I hate wearing it,” I spit out, but she doesn’t flinch. “It reminds me of who I could’ve been if the Chatelains hadn’t tried to burn me alive. But I wear it so I never have to see that look on her face again. So forgive me, Scarlett, if I don’t want to see that same look on you.”

“What look?” she asks, her eyes searching mine. I huff, nearly laughing at the absurdity of her question.

“That horrified, ‘what a monster,’ look. Believe me, I’m well-versed in it.”

She shakes her head hard and her raven curls spill over her shoulder, kissing her cleavage. “That wasn’t toward you. I couldn’t stomach that someone was evil enough to cause you so much pain. Someone I knew. I could never be horrified by this—” Her soft fingers caress the glossy ridges of my scars before I can stop her, and I jolt, realizing that I’m completely bare before her again.

I’ve never forgotten my mask in the decade that I’ve needed it, and here I am, forgetting it twice with her in the span of one week.

I don’t move a muscle, but I can feel my body tremble as her fingers glide up my cheekbone. My eyes burn at the reverent tenderness in her touch.

“Does that hurt?” she asks and stills. I catch her wrist and gently remove her hand.

“No.” My voice is hoarse as I answer and I swallow back the emotion threatening to reveal itself to her. “Get up.”

She listens with an eagerness that makes my cock twitch, and quickly gets off her knees to stand.

“Living room, now,” I command her.

The urge to go straight to my dungeon and enact my revenge against Rand is a steady hum in my mind. But the need to get to the bottom of things with Scarlett is an unbearably loud drumbeat thumping in my chest.

I lock the door behind us and she follows me into the living room where I snatch up my Sazerac from the side table and pace on the rug in front of my fire. It blazes warm in my hearth and candlelight glows on the black leather furniture and marble.

When I turn around to face Scarlett, the orange and red flames shimmer over her face and the satin dress that hugs her curves. The vision takes my breath away, but I inhale and exhale to center myself before confronting her.

“Tell me this, Scarlett. If you weren’t horrified by me, then why is it that when I told you who the evil fucker was, you refused to believe me?”

“I believed you that Laurent did it.” She closes her eyes slowly before meeting mine. “But after everything that I’d just discovered about you with Jaime being my bodyguard and his injury, it was difficult for me to wrap my head around the fact that my former childhood friend could be dangerous, too. I’m so sorry, Sol.”

“So it took your beloved Rand’s confession to believe me, is that it?” I hiss, unable to help myself.

I want to trust that this woman standing before me is actually seeing me for who I am and not the monster I’ve had to become. But I’ve been fooled by my blind hope regarding her once before already.

“No! I mean… yes. I don’t know. All I can say is that I’m sorry. What can I do to make you believe me when I say that I want all of you? Especially everything under your mask? I… I love you, Sol.” The muscles in my chest clench at those words, and I nearly double over. But I remain stoic on the outside. “It took losing the letters, the music, you, to realize I’ve fallen for you. I think I fell for you from the moment I read your first note written as sheet music. But I was too afraid to admit it.”

Her shy, vulnerable smile makes my cock twitch. I swallow hard to attempt to get my desire under control.

“Who falls in love with a phantom?” I ask quietly past numb lips.

“I did,” she answers, her silver eyes molten and earnest. “I’ve always felt at ease with you. You’ve shown me how to embrace myself, to go for my dreams, and to not be afraid of the dark parts of me.”

Scarlett inhales a shaky, steadying breath. “It was you that night, wasn’t it? You’re the one who… when I killed my father’s murderer, you were there, weren’t you?”

“His name was Two-Shot…” I hesitate for a second before finally admitting the whole truth. “That man killed my father. I tracked him once I was strong and capable in the art of accidents. I found him outside Commander’s Palace that night and had my rope ready. I’d planned to take care of him there and then stage his body at his own home. But I realized he was waiting for someone, looking for someone, and I stayed in the shadows to spy on him. Then you came out searching for your father. You were… captivating. My inability to stay focused almost cost you your life. It was obvious you were innocent in all this, so when Two-Shot attacked you, I almost lost it and blew my cover. But your father finally came out of hiding and took his shot. I was too late to stop Two-Shot from returning fire.”

“My father was a Chatelain informant. That’s why he began to perform in the French Quarter. It was to get closer to the Bordeaux shadows. Rand said that my father betrayed the Chatelains almost a decade ago, but Rand only found out last year. That’s why he sent Two-Shot to assassinate him.” She confirms my suspicions with shame heavy in her voice as she lowers her head.

“He tried to do right in the end. But the bullet hit Two-Shot in the shoulder. Your father’s shot was wide.”

“My shots weren’t.” Glorious fury glitters in her eyes. Just like that night when her darkness called to me and I answered. “I knew he was dead, but when the police came, he and the gun were gone…”

She trails off, her moonlight gaze locks with mine as I continue.

“When you ran to check on your father, I looped my noose around Two-Shot’s neck and made sure the job was finished before hiding him in a nearby grave. I didn’t know what the issue between Two-Shot and your father was. Rand may be telling the truth, but if your father betrayed the Chatelains, mine didn’t tell us. Ben and I were only fifteen when my father died and he kept the business private because we were minors. I was afraid Rand’s proxy would retaliate against you if they found out that you were the one who killed their best assassin. On top of that, you were young and still full of understandable rage. I didn’t want them or the police to come after you, or ask you questions about the gun you used since it was a Chatelain pistol—”

“What does that mean?”

“The Chatelains deal in drugs, weapons, and women. I could tell the gun was one of theirs because of the model and the filed-off serial numbers.” Her eyes widen. “I didn’t want this distraught victim to get caught up in the criminal legalities and questions of a stolen gun. It was better for everyone, and especially you, if the murderer and the gun disappeared.”

“You protected me that night.”

“And I’ll never stop. After I witnessed you exact justice on my father’s assassin, my obsession with revenge transformed into a craving for you. I haven’t been able to resist you ever since. Your light, your darkness, your passion… you have consumed me every moment. You became more than an obsession. You became everything. But now you’ve asked me to leave you alone, so protection is where my obsession ends now.”

Her moonlight eyes plead, bright in the golden light flickering around us. “What do I have to do to get you to… to want me again?”

“It’s never been a matter of me wanting you, Scarlett,” I growl.

She swallows. “What do I have to do to get you to believe that I want you, then? How can I convince you to forgive me?”

I watch her carefully as the firelight dances across her smooth alabaster skin before finally making my decision. “If you want me to trust you again, prove to me you don’t think I’m a monster.”

That sexy plump bottom lip purses in question. “How do I do that?”

“Beg for it.”

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