Page 27 of The Aries Alliance (BLP Signs of Love #14)

Reckoning

When Scarlett and Val left my home, I sat at my kitchen table, processing everything. I came across as a hard-nosed guy, but Scarlett hurt my feelings. We agreed to be a team, but her actions didn’t reflect that.

Val texted me hours ago that she dropped Scarlett off, but why hadn’t Scarlett called or texted?

It’s not about you, War. I repeated the words several times in my mind, breathing in and out until my body calmed.

In our exchanges, Scarlett reminded me that being an equity accomplice meant that I moved as she needed me to, not in a way that was convenient to me.

I didn’t respond to work emails despite the constant pinging of messages filling my inbox. I’d take care of all of that in the office.

In between shaving and showering, I texted Tiffany, wanting her to connect with Scarlett and share tools that might help her stay grounded.

Even more notifications pinged on my phone, sounding like a Vegas slot machine. I set my razor down and frowned as I read reporters’ emails. They wanted a statement about Scarlett.

I ignored them and opened my favorite news app, skimming several articles. I gritted my teeth when one about Scarlett popped up. Racist, mean-spirited, intimidating. Those were the words that described Scarlett’s tormentors perfectly, not her.

I set my phone on the vanity and stared at myself in the mirror. The magnitude of this situation hit me like a ton of bricks. No one should be attacked like this.

Through the mirror, I saw the neatly made-up bed behind me. There, Scarlett gave herself to me fully. Her endearing eyes were stamped in my brain as she went from begging for me to cum in her to pleading that I intercede on her behalf.

But I couldn’t lay everything down and promise her I’d make everything better in an instant. Or could I?

I texted Val.

Me:

How’s she doing?

Val:

Resting. Make this go away. My girl doesn’t deserve this.

I waited before responding. What could I tell Val that wouldn’t be a lie?

Me:

Keep her off the news. Keep me posted about how she’s doing.

Val:

*thumbs up* emoji

I arrived at the office an hour later. All morning, several people in positions of power messaged me, gloating about ‘taking care’ of Scarlett.

I went through the motions of working until noon, sitting in meetings where Scarlett was the first topic of gossip.

I finally told my assistant I was taking the rest of the day off.

I went home, contacting every person on Scarlett’s list of work confidantes.

“This is Warrick Redmond. I’m calling to vindicate Scarlett. Help me make EFU pay.” I spoke my script to each person before they could dismiss me as a member of the establishment.

One of Scarlett’s supervisees, Aaliyah, stood out to me as she sniffled on the phone.

“Scarlett is one of the best people I know. She doesn’t deserve this. I’m happy to help, but I don’t know how. I already gave my thoughts in that big report. EFU doesn’t care. Don’t you think the system’s too broken for us to help her now?”

“Although it seems like the law is broken, it has been put in place for a reason. Title Seven of the Civil Rights Act before 1964 offers whistleblower protection. If you come forth publicly, you will have some form of protection. The problem is that it could take years to see justice if we work the traditional way.”

“I don’t have years. My bills are due. If I get blackballed, that’s my career. My disciplinary community is small, and people are mean.”

Even through the phone, I heard Aaliyah’s breathing speed up. Her story was like my mother’s too. She would be another casualty if I didn’t do something about this.

“I know Scarlett formed a group. She’s not up to leading you all right now, but I am. I’ll do what I can to support and protect like she would. There’s strength in numbers, Aaliyah. Please give me a chance to make this right. For all of you,” I added quickly.

Aailyah’s pregnant pause had me concerned until she spoke up again.

“You really think you can hold those bastards accountable?”

“Not in the traditional sense. I’m going to take a leap of faith and put myself in the line of fire so violators at EFU don’t slip through the cracks.”

“This trauma has to stop. I’m in.”

“Can you help me convince others to join us?”

“Yes. I’ll call you back later today.”

“Sounds good.”

Our plan was officially in motion.

I still hadn’t heard from Scarlett by the end of the night. When I called Val again, she said Scarlett was taking a much-needed vacation and would contact me when she returned. When I pressed for more information, Val was like a broken record, assuring me that Scarlett was okay.

Still feeling defeated, I moved to my home gym and beat the punching bag hanging on a hook from my ceiling.

“Protect the wounded. Heal the sick.” I repeated that mantra ten times.

As gloves hit the bag, I pictured the faces of each person who tried to take Scarlett down.

Judy’s lopsided bob. Punch.

Gayle’s watery eyes. Punch.

Skip’s narcoleptic ass. Punch.

The professor who kissed on my mother. Punch. Punch. Punch. Punch.

I hit the bag so hard it swung like a feather. As sweat dripped from my shirtless torso like a waterfall, I banged my boxing gloves together and shouted so loud, the noise rattled several empty bottles on the floor.

After a quick shower, I opened my laptop and positioned myself for the hell that was about to break loose.

When I sent emails and files to my five media contacts—one at the newspaper, two at news stations in the city, and two working at nationally syndicated news stations—I closed my laptop and said a silent prayer.

Within thirty minutes, every person on my list confirmed that everything was ready to go.