Page 126 of Scream
He shakes his head. “The more I’m kept in the shadows and out of the media, the better I can… keep a low profile of my involvement when it comes to…otherthings.”
Like taking down the Syndicate. I understand he doesn’t want to tell me – because he doesn’t trust me…. And so maybe I need to rethink my position of power. Besides, if they’re trying to take down the Syndicate, then maybe I shouldn't be trying to infiltrate it anymore. Unless…
“I have a meeting scheduled with Jaxson Prescott Thursday morning. Seems he’s trying to sell half of his shares to the Ainsworths.” I tell him.
Maverick blinks, Raven tenses, and the room goes silent. “That… can’t happen.”
“The meeting, or giving the Ainsworths more reason to be in the US?”
“We’ve had a run in with the Bones Chapter. The Ainsworths do not need to breach American soil. Not with Rayne-Moore so close.”
“I agree.”
Four and a half hours later, we watch through the screen on Maverick’s desktop – Aleksi having sent us another encrypted link – as Donahue kneels on the grass, hands behind his head. Seven children between the ages of six to fifteen, plus Emilia, are extracted from the cabin.
One of the Donahue brothers tries to run, but is shot twice - once in the shoulder, the other between the eyes.
None of the children turn away at the gruesome sight.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Parker.
It’s been a long fucking day.
By the time we walk over to the mansion, instead of driving all the way across the Brooklyn Bridge back into Manhattan, it’s a little after two in the morning. Coming back to the mansion feels like coming home after a long trip. Maksim is carrying Sabrina on his back and looks like he just lost a million-dollar bet as we walk up the steps to the front door.
I put my key into the lock and open the front door, welcoming the smell of the mansion to settle my bones. It feels good to be back. It feels good to hang up my keys on Sabrina’s key hook by the front door.
Years of making this house a home – her reprieve, ruined by marriage. Where it should have been a sanctuary, a place that held hopes and dreams, it now felt soulless. All it was missing to come alive again was her – baking in the kitchen, reading in weird positions on the couches in the living areas, watching god-awful chick-flicks in the theater, dropping weights in the gym, hosting work dinners in the den… and the rooms on the second floor had once held promising futures for her kids.
Why did that feel so far away now?
She’s silent as she closes the door behind her, and I catch her gaze, sadness filtering through.
“What’s wrong, baby girl?”
Maksim turns to face her, frowning when he sees the tears well up.
She hugs her torso and shakes her head, honey blonde waves following. “It feels so good to be home,” she huffs out a laugh and Maksim’s frown deepens, dark brows coming together.
Maksim steps forward, and using his forefinger and his thumb, he tilts Sabrina's head up by the chin to look up at him. With her heels off, she looks so small. I wait for the flinch, for somekind of reaction to his nearness, but it never comes. Her shoulders are still tense, but that's from whatever emotions she's been dealing with all day. Not from our nearness.
We haven’t started her defensive training yet. We haven't stepped foot in the penthouse gym since I fucked her in front of the mirror, finding so many other different flat surfaces around the apartment to bend her over, but I'm waiting on her to ask me. I should probably get better at pushing her boundaries, but for now, I’m happy waiting for her to take the lead.
My talks with Damon lately always end with him telling me "She's doing great," with a pat on the shoulder. I believe him, because I'm seeing life coming back into her eyes. It's in her walk. In the way she easily opens the front door now, with a shake of her head, ready to take on the elevator – instead of putting her hand on the knob, hesitating, and then hyping herself up. Her confidence in asking for what she wants, sexually. Including asking me if she could suck my dick while we were in the shower just this morning. As if I’d say no to feeling her lips wrapped around me. While almost twenty-four hours ago, it still feels like she made that a dream come true.
The way her tongue felt so good wiggling under my frenulum, over the barbells. The way her cheeks hollowed out on the draw, green eyes with slates of grey and blue. Fuck, the way she worked my balls with one hand, the other jerking me in steady strokes until I grabbed her by the temples and fucked her throat, coming so deep, so hard I almost slipped. Utter fucking perfection.
"Does it really mean that much to you, Duchess?" Maksim asks, and Sabrina finally unwraps her arms and puts them on his forearms, blinking up at him.
"A part of me thought I'd raise my children here... have a gorgeous terrier or two running around as well. Maybe a fluffy, white cat. I'd have the kids' birthday parties in the backyard or on the rooftop. I'd bake their cakes and..." she shakes her head. "It seems silly now. No. I guess it doesn't mean very much to me anymore. I should... I should..." she sniffs, big fucking tears streaming down her face, and I can't fucking take it. "Listit."
The tops of Maksim's ears turn red, obviously affected by Sabrina's tears of sadness, not frustration. He's not used to these. He tugs her to his chest.
"I'm sorry. I don't know why I’m so emotional. This house was my haven for so long, and I didn't get to say a proper goodbye,” she sniffs again.
"Sabrina, we're keeping the mansion,”Maksim soothes.
