Page 3 of Savage Captor (Deadly Devotion #1)

Scarlett Sharpe

“ Y our obsession with plants is concerning.” Eric stalks before the windows of my living room, where a row of gorgeous pots house a multitude of delightful plants.

He examines each and every one of them like they’re a confounding anomaly rather than Mother Nature’s bounty.

“I’ve never seen this flower before,” he says, pointing to a hybrid I created.

Hundreds of painstaking hours spent in my university’s lab amounted to the creation of three incredible seeds—three seeds that led to this wondrous plant.

It’s a cross between an azalea and a great laurel.

The leaves are a bright, vibrant green, stemming from a thick bush and leading up to a few precious stalks of the flower.

The petals are unique and stunning; they have the classic clustered dome shape of a great laurel, though the flowers themselves are more reminiscent of azaleas, with a pinkish-purple color.

This flower is a symbol of my future. I created it, I nurtured it, and I breathed life into it—and now, it’s flourishing beneath my care.

“Do you like the scent?” I ask excitedly. “I think it’s so nice. And so pretty. And—”

“I get it,” Eric says sharply. “You like flowers. You’re a double major in botany and genetic engineering, for fuck’s sake—though I thought you would be more on the farming side of things. ”

“I’m also taking courses for biochemistry,” I remind him. “Mix all the specialties, and boom !” I do mock jazz hands. “You have yourself a Scarlett Sharpe.”

Eric’s lips tilt up into a faint smile as he turns to glance at me, vibrant green eyes sparkling. “Yeah,” he says quietly. “You certainly do.”

He leaves his position in front of the window and walks over to me.

In the absence of my almost childlike excitement about flowers returns the fear that always thrums in my veins.

Eric dropped by unannounced, which makes me think there’s something wrong.

The anxiety that’s held me hostage for most of my life has quieted into a simmer the last few years, since Eric got me the hell away from our monster of a father. But it’s still there.

I know Dad can come for me any time. Eric’s powerful and well-connected, so he was able to thoroughly cover my tracks—he even faked my death—but nothing is foolproof. I still wake up coated in sweat with remnants of recurring nightmares echoing in my head.

My father finding me and dragging me back home. Selling me to one of his ogre-like associates in a marriage contract, or worse, putting me on the literal auction block .

“What’s wrong?” I ask Eric. “Why are you here?”

He lets out a puff of laughter. “Christ, is seeing me really that bad?”

I backpedal fast. “No, of course not. I’m always happy to see you. It’s just…”

Eric’s eyes soften with sympathy. He takes a seat beside me on the couch and slings his arm over my shoulder, pulling me in for a hug.

Affection doesn’t come easily to either of us; it was beaten out of us during our childhoods, and there’s kinship to be found there.

It’s not just blood that connects me and Eric; it's trauma, and it’s love .

I know I see him as a hero, which I probably shouldn’t.

There’s a reason Eric was able to get me away from our father, even years after he made his own escape, and that’s because he rose to power in dangerous circles.

I don’t know the details of his job, but I do know that he’s one of the biggest gun traffickers in North America.

He went into a life of crime. While I’m grateful for that because it gave him the resources to get me out…

Sometimes I fear he’s more like our father than he lets on. Sometimes I fear that I’m too much like Luther Sharpe, that I’m destined to go rotten and turn to a life of crime.

“There are deals in the works,” Eric says.

“Nothing official yet, but some negotiations. I might partner with an… organization soon. Become their direct supplier and merge forces with them. To what extent, I don’t know yet.

To what end, I don’t know yet. But it means I’ll have less free time to drop by and check on you.

” He plants a kiss on my head before releasing me.

“I also might put a few security guys on you.”

I inhale a sharp breath. “Why? Has Dad found me? Us? Oh god—”

“Scarlett,” Eric interrupts calmly. “Nobody’s found you.

Dad will never get his hands on you again.

In fact… the deal I’m working on might put me in the position to finally take care of that piece of shit.

” Eric’s jaw clenches, and his eyes flash with anger.

“He’s outlived his welcome in this world by a lifetime.

I swore to you I’d kill him as soon as I could, and I stand by that. The time might be approaching.”

I blink several times, breathing shakily, trying to calibrate the new dump of information. I’ve wanted my father dead for years, as has Eric, but that’s never been a possibility. He’s too powerful, too well connected…

“Are you sure?” I whisper. “If you do it, you have to do it right. If you fail, he’ll kill you.” Tears prickle my eyes, and I grab Eric’s hand. “I can’t lose you. I can’t. You’re my only friend. You’re the only person I trust—”

“Scar,” Eric interrupts again, squeezing my hand.

“You’re not losing me. I’m not going anywhere.

I’m not going to make a move until I’m certain I’ll succeed, got it?

” he offers me a small smile. “I promised you when I got you out that I’d protect you.

That everything would be okay. Have I ever broken my promises? ”

“No,” I whisper. “You haven’t.”

He nods. “And I won’t. Focus on your studies, little sister. I’ll take care of what needs to be taken care of. If I decide to put some guys on you, I’ll send a text to your burner. You still have it?”

“Of course.” It’s the only phone I have. I’ve been away from my father’s tyranny for three years, yet I still live in fear of leading a normal life. It’ll take time to get past that… if I ever get past that.

“Good. Be vigilant, as always. Not because you’re in danger, but because you’re smarter than most civilians. It pays to be careful.” He kisses my head again. “Saw your last report card. Straight A’s. Good job, sis.” He stands. “I’m proud of you.”

My chest warms as I gaze at him. Eric is my only real family, and even though he can be a prick, he’s an amazing brother. He’s the only person in this world I trust and look up to. “Thank you.”

“I’ll see you around. Pick up if I call.”

I watch him go to the door, disarm the alarm, and leave. The alarm automatically turns on behind him, giving a single beep to let me know it’s active. I sigh, roll up my sleeves, and head to my balcony to get some time with my only other friends in this world—my plants.

The rest of the week passes in a bit of a fog—the usual haze I experience that distances me from the rest of the world.

I attend my classes, do my homework, take a few pop quizzes.

I pretend not to hear it when fellow students try to talk to me, since I’m not very good at talking to strangers.

More, I have no urge to. I’d be perfectly happy if I lived the rest of my life in solitude, with only my plants around to keep me company.

I stay in the campus library late on Friday night.

Later than my brother would be comfortable with—he doesn’t like it when I’m out after dark, but what Eric doesn’t know won’t hurt him.

Since my azalea-great laurel hybrid is doing so well, I’m preparing for my new creation, coming up with ideas and researching the flowers I’m thinking of cross breeding.

First, I need to dive into their genetic structure to see if they’re compatible.

When I check the time on my watch, my eyebrows raise. It’s well past midnight. Sighing, I start packing up my stuff and order an Uber to come pick me up. I live just a twenty-minute walk from campus, but I don’t like being out late at night, and it’s better safe than sorry.

At this point, I know that odds of Dad finding me are low.

I’m enrolled in university under an assumed name.

Eric’s covered all my tracks. But I can’t shake the fear that he’ll come for me; that he’ll find me and torture me, maybe even kill me.

Or worse, sell me off to the highest bidder, as his organization does with pretty young women.

My burner phone beeps with a notification, letting me know my driver’s here.

I weave through the library, past towering wooden shelves weighed down with decades of knowledge, the scent of aged paper thick in the air.

Dim, yellowing lamps cast uneven pools of light across the many wooden tables scattered about.

I step past the circulation desk, where the librarian barely glances up, accustomed to ghosts like me slipping through at odd hours. Pushing through the heavy doors, I emerge into the cool night, my pulse easing as I finally breathe in open air.

A black car idles, waiting for me on the road just a few meters away. I cut through a grass field to get to it faster, exhaustion weighing heavily on my limbs.

As always, I check the Uber driver’s license plate and car make/model on my phone as I approach—only to stop cold.

My Uber is a blue Honda.

The car waiting for me is a black SUV, and the license plate doesn’t match.

The world tilts. My pulse stumbles, then hammers a rapid beat against my ribs. I step back without meaning to. The SUV’s engine hums, low and steady, like it’s waiting. Dread floods my veins, a slow, suffocating freeze. My limbs shiver, not from cold but something far worse.

Dad found me. Oh fuck oh god oh —

I don’t hesitate. My stomach twists and my instincts scream, but I keep my movements controlled—fast, deliberate. I scan the campus, searching for signs of life, for proof I’m not alone in this suffocating quiet.

No one is around.