“I understand it perfectly well. I have an obsession of my own. What I fail to understand is the way you’re letting that girl ruin your life.”
A grim smile spreads over my lips. “My life was ruined long before Scarlett showed up, Cain. She was the one who fixed it.”
Late that night, after I’ve managed to get through all of my administrative bullshit work for the day, I head over to Max’s room. Maximus is the third in command of the Nighthawks, possibly the only decent human being here, and has been my only system of support for the last year. He’s also the best sniper we have—possibly best in the world—and an absolute fiend in the field.
It’s become something of a ritual for me to hang out with Max, at least a couple times a week. Business has picked up massively since Cain killed the old leader of the Nighthawks, Boyce, and picked up themantle himself. It keeps me busy, but it also leaves me feeling empty. Work doesn’t excite me like it used to. Not even killing is enough to truly get my blood pumping.
Max lets me in after I knock just once, and I join him on his couch. His dog, a well-trained German Shepherd, lazes on a dog bed in the corner of the room, quietly snoring. Max is watching a sports match on TV with a few beers in front of him, but I ignore the liquor. My mind’s already clouded with memories; there’s no sense obstructing my thoughts more with alcohol.
“Good news,” Max says. “I spoke with Tobias earlier. We’re close to finding her. He’s hot on her trail. She’s done a good job of hiding, but I don’t think anyone can truly hide from that kid.”
Tobias, or Toby, is one of our newer recruits—sent to us straight from Eric, the weapons distributor we signed a contract with a few months ago. Toby’s loyalty has been thoroughly tested, and I have no doubt his allegiance lies solely with the Nighthawks. More specifically, withme.He’s one of the members of my unit, though he rarely ventures out into the field; instead, he prefers to stay behind and run tech/interference for me. The kid’s a genius with computers, and an expert tracker. If anyone will be able to find Scarlett, who looks like she fell off the face of the earth, it’d be him.
Something pulses in my chest at the thought of Scarlett being close—a stirring of excitement or anticipation. It feels so distant, I can’t quite put my finger on it.
“How close?” I demand.
“He has her location narrowed down to a small city on the other side of the country. The facial-recognition program he finished developing and started running a week ago picked her up at a grocery store, and then again in a parking lot. There’s a local college she mightbe studying at—he’s running checks. We should know where she is within the next 24 hours, maybe even sooner.”
I flex and unflex my hands, staring down at them. If Max’s words are to be believed, soon, I’ll have Scarlett in my hands again. And I won’t be letting her out of my sight any time soon. She’ll be chained to my side 24/7, until she learns how to behave.
“Have you decided what to do with her once we’ve gotten her in custody?” Max asks. “Formed a plan?”
“Oh, I have plans,” I say darkly. “Plans that ensure she never evencontemplatestrying to escape again.” I don’t care if she hates me for the rest of our lives, as long as she’s mine. If she’s a good girl, her life will be pleasant and fulfilling. If she’s a bad one… well. That won’t be very fun for her, though it’ll beendlessfun for me.
Max arches an eyebrow at me. “You want to break her?”
“I want to crush any thoughts of leaving me out of her pretty little head. And that’s exactly what I’ll do.” She’ll come to understand very quickly that I’m not the same man she ran from. I’m not the grief-stricken, rageful, unbalanced Greyson anymore. There won’t be any back and forth or bullshit; there’ll be rules, consequences, and potentially, rewards.
“Okay. As your friend, I’m going to make a few things clear to you. I have years of experience in BDSMandin the art of torturing people. I’ve even done undercover ops with sex trafficking rings. Those guys are the sort to use and abuse women until they break and turn into empty-headed dolls. No thoughts, no feelings,nothingbut warm holes to fuck and sell.” The way Max grimaces tells me all I need to know about his opinion regarding cruelly breaking a woman—an opinion I share. I don’t want to break Scarlettthatway. I don’t want to change who she fundamentally is—I only want to make every piece of hermine.I want her mind, her soul… and deep inside me lies a craving for her heart. I’ve come to accept that I’ll probably never have her love, so I’ll settle for having the rest of her.
“I don’t want a doll,” I grunt.
Max nods. “Then what you want is a submissive.”
I feel my upper lip curl. “How is that any better?”
“True submissiveswantto give over control. They want to be dominated and taken. They want to be owned, all the time. Then, there are dynamics where submission is a ritual—I had a play partner like that once, who was also a good friend. I trained her very carefully, and we had a system. She was herself until the moment she was ready to play. Then, she’d retrieve the collar I made her, kneel in front of me, and present it. The moment I put the collar on her, she was no longer the strong, independent woman who was dominant in the real world; she was my sub. If I told her to eat out of a dog bowl, she’d have done so happily because it would’ve pleased me. It took a lot of conditioning to get her in that mindset, but we got there, and it was…” he shakes his head, a dazed look briefly flashing in his eyes. “Extremely rewarding, to say the least.”
I don’t want Scarlett eating from a dog bowl, but Idowant her eating out of my hands. All of her agency will be mine from the moment I capture her, and she’ll learn to accept it. Crave it, even.
I take a few beats to mull over Max’s words. I’ve seen hints of a submissive, or what Ithinkis a submissive in Scarlett—moments where I deepened my tone and used a dom-voice, and she instantly complied. I don’t want that from her all the time. I still wantmyScarlett, my Flower who’s feisty and smart and has a tongue as sharp as her wit. But when it’s time to strip her and claim her in whatever way I want… yes, a submissive might be nice.
When I relay this to Max, he nods understandingly. “In that case, you’ll need alotof meticulous training and conditioning—and a fuckton of trust. She needs to trust you not only with her life, but with her emotions. She needs to know you’ll protect her from the world. She needs to be able to rely on you enough to let you fuck with her head, knowing that you’ll fix her once you’re done.”
Scarlett has never had anything but ragingdistrust for me. “I don’t see that happening.”
“Not immediately,” Max agrees. “It’ll take months, maybe even years for her to trust you, to learn to hand over all control to you. But I’ve seen hints of a natural sub in her, so I think you can make it happen.”
“Think isn’t good enough,” I mutter. I don’t justcrave; Irequireher submission.
“Whether or not it works is on you. Your patience, your understanding, your building her trust and reliance on you. If you put in the effort, you’ll get the result. But if you get hotheaded and go off on her like you did the first time around… that doesn’t lead to trust.”
“Won’t happen again.” If I feel myself reaching a breaking point, I’ll walk away.
“Good,” Max nods. “First of all, let’s talk about the harsh and soft systems you’ll need to use. When you order her to do something, it needs to be firm and unbending. You don’t give her an inch. If she does it, you soften as you praise her—and I mean alotof praise. You’re not conditioning a willing sub, which means it’ll take a lot more effort and meticulous control. If you tell her to eat from your hand and lick crumbs from your fingers—”
“She’d bite my hand off.”
