Page 21 of Savage Captor (Deadly Devotion #1)
“I’ve already prepped my room for my chosen. I intend to have her with me in the next year, hopefully sooner.”
“You’ve put a lot of thought into this.” Too much thought, though I’m too distracted to read into that right now.
“I’ve been planning a reorganization of the Nighthawks for some time. The opportunity to make my move is fast approaching.” Cain stands from the couch. “I’ll let you know details once plans have been made. Expect for there to be chaos in the next few weeks—until then, focus on your task.”
I spend the next several hours doing exactly what Cain said; cleaning up my apartment while outlining a plan and trying to imagine what I’m going to tell Scarlett.
Hey, sorry that I spent the last ten days torturing you, but the good news is that you now belong to me .
When I left her, I saw hope of freedom in her eyes, though it was tempered by doubt. I don’t want to imagine her devastation when she realizes that she’s never leaving headquarters; she’ll just be moving to a nicer, more accommodating cage.
I think back to the BDSM stuff I’ve done out in the world, the parties and dungeons I’d visit when I was younger.
The sub-training scenes I occasionally saw.
Ideas of what I could do to Scarlett fill my head, playing on repeat like a reel.
Ideas that are deliciously dark, dangerously sensual, and absolutely addicting .
It’s only when I see that three hours have passed do I realize that I haven’t thought about Sam once in the insanity of today.
My thoughts have been centered on Scarlett, and the change of pace feels…
nice. Thinking of him right now makes my heart ache, as it always does, but the pain is softened by the knowledge that I have something to look forward to.
I haven’t had anything to look forward to since his death. No, even before that; I’ve been going through the motions of life for years without truly participating.
I couldn’t do right by Sam, but I will do right by Scarlett. I’ll make sure she’s happy here. I’ll give her a good life. I’ll care for her and provide for her…
After doing a final sweep of my apartment and double-checking that all the tools I ordered are on their way, I head to the annex, pulling up the video feed of Scarlett’s cell on my way.
The doc is just leaving, probably after checking in on her once again.
I catch him as he’s exiting the building, frowning at something on a tablet. In his free hand is a briefcase.
“How is she?” I ask.
He glances up, startled, but his expression quickly settles into a professional mask .
“Stable,” he responds, looking back down at the tablet.
“There are a few complications… I saw some concerning things when we did a full-body MRI—specifically in her lungs. They’re filled with water, and if I had to guess, she’s been aspirating for a while.
Blood labs indicate that she’s developed pneumonia.
Aside from the complications in her thigh, she’s going to get very sick over the next few days.
Possibly weeks—no way to tell for sure. She needs to take the antibiotics I’ve prescribed twice daily and rest as much as possible.
The cell she’s in probably won’t help matters very much…
” He glances at the annex disapprovingly, but I barely register it.
My heart plummets, a sickening fall straight into my gut.
Lungs filled with water…
I caused that. I held her down and poured gallons into her mouth, her throat, her body which fought so desperately to survive me. I barely gave her room to breathe, barely gave her breaks before drowning her all over again.
Guilt slams into me again, vicious and unrelenting, threatening to bury me under the weight of what I’ve done to an innocent girl. But I won’t let it—I can’t.
Scarlett will get better; I’ll make sure of it. I’ll watch her every second of the day and night. I’ll nurse her back to health, and then … then I’ll make her mine.
“She won’t stay in the cell for long. I’m here to relocate her to my quarters.”
The doc frowns in confusion as he looks back at me, blinking so rapidly he looks like a baby owl. “Your… your personal quarters?”
“Yes,” I confirm, my tone hard. “Is that going to be a problem?”
“N-no, of course not. As long as they’re properly ventilated and well-equipped, that’ll save me walking to the annex multiple times a day. ”
“Excellent.” I pause, trying to think past the gut-twisting guilt. “How do I take care of her?”
The doc coughs. “You’ll need to monitor her closely. Check her temperature every few hours. Keep her well hydrated and well positioned, and administer antibiotics. I’ll also inject her with a blood thinner nightly to prevent any complications from the pneumonia—”
“No,” I cut off. “I’ll do it. Give me what I need, and I’ll take care of it.” Maybe this will be a good way to start to build Scarlett’s trust. I’ll take care of her while she heals. Granted, she’s healing from wounds I inflicted, but… my actions from here on out will count for something.
“She needs to sleep as much as possible,” Doc goes on.
“She’s spoken of nightmares that wake her up as she tries to rest, so I’ll also give you some sedatives.
The more she sleeps, the faster she’ll heal.
” He pauses, looking hesitant. “Forgive me, but may I inquire why you’re so determined to care for her? Why you requested I save her?”
I pull my phone out of my pocket, staring at the video feed. “Because she belongs to me, and I take very good care of my belongings.”
“Well then…” the doctor appears befuddled, but he knows better than to ask questions.
Instead, he holds out the briefcase to me.
“Everything you need is here—antibiotics and a pulse oximeter. You’ll need to use it to check her vitals regularly—ideally hourly.
If her blood oxygen drops below 90%, bring her to medical immediately. "
I nod. I’ll drop the suitcase in my room before collecting Scarlett. “Alright. Anything else I should know?”
The doctor thinks for a moment. “Her heart rate will be very fast to compensate for her difficulty inhaling enough oxygen. If it goes above 150 and stays that way for over an hour, bring her to medical.”
“Okay.” I nod. Right. One very sick girl who I need to heal…
and then claim. What the hell has my life turned into?
I’m used to weirdness, it comes with the job, but this is beyond the scope of irregular.
It’s insane. It’s a tumultuous tide that’s pulling me in every direction, sweeping me beneath leagues of water, threatening my sanity while simultaneously offering glimpses of stark, almost crazed clarity.
And Scarlett… somehow, she’s become my only anchor in this stormy sea.