Page 56 of Carved Obsession (The Sanctum Syndicate #4)

Carter

Pain radiates against my cheek, ears ringing as the world floods my senses all at once. A loud crack sounds. My head whips violently to the side, neck straining as the same pain blooms against my other cheek.

Voices sound around me, senseless, muddled, as I open my eyes and fight through my blurred vision.

But one voice breaks through the haze.

“Scarlet . . .” I mutter.

“Leave him the fuck alone!”

“Just trying to wake him up for you, sweetheart.”

I don’t like the sound of that male voice.

It’s too condescending, laced with sleazy energy.

As I blink through the haze, my surroundings finally come into focus.

Old cobwebs dangle in the corners of the peeling wallpaper.

Sparse, dusty furniture weathered by time stands against the crumbling wood-panelled walls, and a chandelier missing most of its bulbs lights up the room.

And there, among it all, is Scarlet.

She’s tied to a chair barely ten feet away. Her gaze, brimming with hope that only makes me feel like a useless asshole, is locked on me.

Some guy stands in front of her, a menacing blade held tightly in his hand as he watches her. I go to rise, but I’m also tied to a fucking chair. Rope cinches my torso to the chair, my wrists at my back, and my ankles to the legs.

“Morning, princess.”

My head snaps forward as the bald man stands before me, rubbing his fist in his palm like it’s supposed to scare me. He steps aside, revealing a winged-back armchair, too new to belong in this place. And in it sits Duval himself.

“Kidnapping seems like the wrong kind of activity for someone who wants to portray himself as a stand-up politician,” I taunt.

He sits on his throne, another of his leather-clad mercenaries standing next to him, betraying that persona he’s working so hard to show to the public.

“It felt like the appropriate response, considering your blackmail attempt with all that information you delivered to me.” Duval shrugs.

“That wasn’t blackmail. It was a warning. Kidnapping me won’t stop the wheels that have been put in motion unless you draw the line here, let us go, and back off.”

“You must see that between us two, you’re not the one in control here.” He nods to the guy standing before Scarlet, and the breath sticks in my throat as he turns and backhands her across the cheek.

Her head whips to the side as she yelps, and my muscles seize.

“I’m going to have your fucking hand for that,” I growl to the brute.

“We’ll take the risk. Again,” Duval orders.

I thrash against the rope, the chair creaking under the strain of my muscles.

I lean forward, teeth bared like a feral dog as the bastard strikes her again.

His knuckles collide with her face, accompanied by a sickening, stomach-coiling thud.

Strands of walnut-colored hair stick to the blood trickling down her temple as her head snaps back.

Scarlet doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t cry out. But her silence eats at me.

Goddamn it, she’s bleeding.

“Hit me!” I roar. “Whatever you want, do it to me, you fucking coward!”

Duval leans forward, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “Ah, but that wouldn’t hurt you, now would it, Carter? It wouldn’t hurt them either.” He extends his arm, pointing to the side of the room.

“What the...?” I frown at the camera I notice in the far corner.

“I want the escort service. You better agree to it before she dies. And you better believe I’m serious.

After all, I already left you without a bar and your precious Fightclub.

I’m streaming this to your Sanctum so they know I’m serious too.

Though, I’m not entirely sure who cares enough to watch.

I sent them the link.” He shrugs, amused.

“Why her? Why me?” I ask.

“Convenience. My preference was a couple, but I would have happily taken any two of you.”

“And you think we’ll still give you the fucking escort service if you kill her?” I say through gritted teeth.

“No, but at least we both lose something.”

“Don’t you fucking dare, Carter!” Scarlet screams, pulling our attention to her, but she’s staring straight at me.

“I’ll fucking hate you forever if you dare agree to this delusional motherfucker’s offer.

I’m not worth the life of all those people who’ll be tortured at his sleazy hands.

” She turns to Duval. “I’d rather die than see you get what you want. ”

In the least feminine of ways, she spits toward the man. He flinches and pulls his foot away before it reaches him.

That’s my fucking girl .

But she’s asking me to sacrifice her for the escort service.

Duval shouts an order over my protest, and I grind my teeth so hard my jaw aches. But the brute by Scarlet just chuckles. My muscles coil as he circles her like a predator, savoring this, the sick fuck.

“Come on, sweetheart,” the mercenary taunts, leaning in close, his hand brushing over her cheek like he’s trying to be tender.

Scarlet jerks her head away, disgust flaring in her eyes.

“No need to be shy. It’ll hurt less if you play nice.”

I thunder, and the chair rattles beneath me as I lunge forward. “Touch her again, and I’ll fucking kill you!”

The man laughs, low and ugly. “Touch her again? Sure thing.” His fist flies into her stomach, hard enough to make her whole body jerk.

She doubles over as far as the ropes allow, the chair scraping against the floor.

“Stop it!” My voice rips from my throat, harsh and cracked, but it falls into the stale air like a plea instead of the threat I want it to be.

“Give me the escort service and I will stop,” Duval offers.

I growl at the man as Scarlet screams her protest.

“Again,” Duval orders, gesturing with two fingers like this is nothing more than another one of his political handshakes.

The mercenary obliges, landing a backhand across Scarlet’s cheek. Her head snaps to the side. Blood sprays from her mouth as her lips split open, and my chest tightens like a steel vise. My muscles scream against the ropes, but they don’t fucking budge.

Scarlet lifts her head slowly, gaze unwavering. Even now, there’s no fear in her. It gives me a unique, brutal glimpse into what she went through during her childhood...during the experiments.

She spits a wad of blood onto the floor at the guy’s feet. “That all you’ve got?” she drawls.

His grin falters, and for a fleeting second, I see something close to doubt in his eyes. He doesn’t understand her. Doesn’t know her. But I do.

“Big talk for someone tied up,” he snaps, grabbing her hair and yanking her head back to expose her throat.

Duval’s voice filters through, asking for the goddamn escort service again, but I’m too focused on her. On the blood. On her unwavering expression that hides vulnerability.

“Don’t you fucking dare—” I struggle harder. The ropes bite into my wrists, and the chair groans beneath my weight.

The brute laughs, dragging her face close to his. “We’ll see how tough you are after this.” His free hand curls into a fist, which he drives into her ribs.

Scarlet grits her teeth but doesn’t make a sound.

The silence makes it worse.

“Keep going,” Duval says, and I swear I see amusement flicker in his cold, dead eyes. “Break her.”

That’s when the blade appears in the brute’s hand, glinting under the dim chandelier light.

He slides it across her collarbone as Scarlet stares him down, unflinching.

The bastard presses harder. Blood wells and drips, the menacing crimson spreading across her wheat-colored shirt. My stomach twists, cold and tight.

I can’t fucking move.

The panic rises like bile, unfamiliar and clawing at my throat. My body shakes from the rage building inside me—an inferno, relentless and suffocating. She’s mine. This isn’t supposed to happen to her.

Scarlet locks eyes with me as the blade presses deeper. Her lips part, but she doesn’t speak. Just stares. And in that moment, something inside me snaps.

It’s not a calculated shift. That raging creature inside me that I’ve been protecting the world against rips through the mask. Primal. Uncontrollable.

Ropes dig into my ankles as I strain, my breath a low, guttural growl. The chair groans, wood splintering. With one last surge of strength, I lean forward, then slam back, shattering the chair beneath me.

The room freezes as pieces of wood fall around me. For a heartbeat, no one moves.

Then I lunge.

My shoulders slam into the asshole holding the blade embedded deep in Scarlet’s chest. His weight topples under mine, but only he falls to the floor.

My foot comes down hard, driving his head through the rotting wood, smashing against the concrete base beneath, and I stomp on his skull until it shatters like a fucking melon.

The others move, their boots scuffing against the floor.

Raging, I turn.

Another man charges me. Whipping around, fists still bound, I drive my head into his nose.

Cartilage snaps. His blood sprays hot against my face.

He stumbles and I knee him in the balls until he topples over.

Grasping the moment, I side-kick him straight in the face.

He drops like a stone, but I don’t take any chances.

I slam my foot onto his head until his skull cracks beneath my boot.

In the far distance, a commotion sounds, but I have no brain space for it.

Sharp pain blossoms in my side, but it’s Scarlet who bellows in response to it.

Grunting, I twist in time to see the last mercenary pulling his hand from my ribs.

When I reach down, a blade sticks out of me.

I pull it out and maneuver it so that I can slice the rope holding my wrists as the man charges me headfirst.

I’m not sure if I cut the rope, but the ligatures give in when I strain against them, and my hands are finally free.

My teeth find his ear as he slams me against a creaking wall, and I bite down until I feel the crunch of cartilage.

He screams, trying to pull back, but I hold him to me and drive the knife into his neck.

Blood fountains, hot and thick, drenching me.

When I turn, Duval is on his feet. He scrambles backward, shouting orders, though I’m not sure to whom. Maybe more of his mercenaries litter this old house, but I couldn’t give a shit about them right now.

Yet, there’s a response to his call somewhere in this house. Gunfire erupts, startling my spine straight, but I have to get to Scarlet.

Reaching forward, I grab Duval by the collar and twist around, launching him to the floor where I can fucking see him.

“Stay there!” I command.

I turn to Scarlet. Her head hangs low, crimson trickles from her wounds, and her breathing is shallow.

The knife that could have plugged the hole in her chest lies on the floor, and too much blood flows out of the wound. I drop to my knees, pulling at the ropes binding her, my bloodied hands trembling as I cut through the restraints with the same knife that cut her.

“Scarlet,” I whisper, my vulnerable tone unrecognizable even to me. “Kitten?”

Her eyes flutter open, and she gives me the faintest hint of a smile. But it falls once she looks down. “You’re bleeding.”

I know. I can feel myself weakening. That asshole must have hit something important. Pain rips through my lung but it’s her state that concerns me more.

My answer lodges in my throat as Duval makes a desperate lunge. I grab the blade off the floor and catch him by the throat mid-charge, slamming his back against the wall.

“I don’t care what you did to me, motherfucker. But her? My fucking Scarlet?” I rage, holding him by the hair.

I sink the knife into the base of his throat, then slice upward—a deliberate move that spills his life onto the ground. I plunge my hand into the gaping wound, grasping and ripping until I find his spine, and with a harsh yank, the bones snap. Duval crumples, lifeless at my feet.

The room falls silent, save for Scarlet’s and my shallow breaths.

I collapse beside her and pull her into my lap, ignoring the pain radiating from my wound. Brushing the stray strands of hair off of her blood-stained face, I look into her coffee-colored eyes that hold so many emotions for me.

I failed her. And yet she looks at me like I hung her moon.

“Stay with me,” I murmur, my voice shaking. “You’re mine, Scarlet. Forever. You don’t get to leave me.”

Her hand twitches, weak but alive as it grips mine. And something burns within me, searing behind my ribs. It’s not rage this time. It’s something far more terrifying.

The door crashes open. A tall, wide figure fills the frame, and I tense. But when he rushes into the space, I swear the scarred beast looks like a veritable angel.

“Maddox, thank fuck.”

“Are you okay?” He falls to his knees before us.

Sliding my arms under Scarlet’s body, I try to lift her to him, but agony slices through my body, and I fail to swallow the pained grunt as I look into his eyes. He blurs and darkness wobbles as the light above us flickers.

But I realize it’s not the light at all . . . It’s me.

“Save her,” I beg into the darkness, but it swallows me before I’m sure the words reached out.