SCARLETT

My heart felt like it was exploding in my chest as I stared at the page with teary eyes. I shook, the book vibrating in my hands, the ladder beneath my feet swaying with my jittery movements. Clambering down off the piece of equipment, I attempted to steady myself, leaning back against the dusty desk.

George Peters...

Caroline Ford...

Marissa Thompson...

Lincoln Avery...

Robert Parkins...

The list of names went on and on, dripping down the page - much like my tears - and following over onto the next one. And the next one. And the next one.

A list of gifted wolves successfully trapped and handed over to the Enclave Clan.

As I read the heading, a wave of nausea wafted through me, and I resisted the sudden urge to vomit on the study floor. What the hell was this book doing here in Roman's father's study? My mind ran rampant.

There had to be almost fifty names inside - with many blank pages left at the end. Whoever had written these names in here wasn't done. There were plenty more gifted wolves they wanted to hand over to Nyx.

"Shit," I hissed to myself, bracing my head down on the desk and squeezing my eyes shut painfully. More tears rimmed my eyes, but I forced them down. The last thing I needed was for Roman to come in and find me crying over the gifted wolves his father had sentenced to a life of pain and torment.

He had clearly struck some kind of deal with Nyx, and I couldn't help but fear that Roman was in on it. Had he been hiding how involved in all of this he was? He appeared to hate Nyx and his clan, but perhaps there was something going on in between the lines that I hadn't picked up on - something that Roman didn't want anyone to know.

My mate. Hunting gifted wolves. No. He couldn't be.

The world wouldn't be that cruel, would it?

"Get yourself together, Scarlett," I spat at myself, slamming the book shut and dropping it down on the dirty desk as if it had burned me, as if the hardback cover morphed into tongues of flames that lapped at my skin.

If there was a sign from the universe that Roman and I were never going to live a normal life, then this was it. Staring at me square in the face clear as day. There was no denying that I was in serious danger here.

There was only one thing that I could do - and that was to leave.

Roman couldn't find out what I was. There was no way that he didn't know anything about his father's work, right? The book appeared like it hadn't been touched in a while, but that didn't mean I was going to disregard it.

"Scarlett!"

My mate's voice struck through me like an icicle, piercing my soul and causing my blood to freeze inside of my veins. Panicking, I climbed the ladder, dumping the book back on top of the shelf. Dust flew back at me causing me to splutter, but I managed to compose myself just as Roman waltzed through the door.

"Are you okay? Did you find anything?"

I gulped. I definitely found something.

"Um, yeah," I said, yanking out a cookbook on Italian food - the first in reach. "I like the look of this one."

Roman's green eyes skated across my face, narrowing, and he released a small chuckle before taking a step forward. "You have dust all over your face."

"Do I?" My eyebrows flew into my hairline, and I rubbed at my cheeks with my sleeve, not caring that I was probably rubbing off all my foundation. "It's dusty in here." My eyes flickered up towards the top of the shelf where the book sat, but I quickly averted them, hoping Roman hadn't noticed.

My mate hummed, his eyes following my action for a brief second before he clicked his tongue. "I should clean. Perhaps we could do it tomorrow?"

My eyes rounded. I was under the impression that Roman wasn't interested in spending time with me, but it seemed keeping his distance wasn't working out for him. It wasn't for me either, but after finding out the close link Roman somehow had to Nyx, it was crucial that I left.

Nyx had most likely visited the pack before. He probably knew his way around. What was stopping him from popping up and catching a glimpse of my mark?

"Scarlett, sweetheart." Roman's voice snapped me from my daydream, and I turned to him, suddenly realising I was clutching at the Italian cookbook with serious force, my nails indenting the hardcover.

"Sorry," I said, grinding my teeth together. "I was just...thinking." Thinking about how the hell I was going to get out of here.

Shit. Leaving was going to hurt like a bitch.

"Let's start cooking."

***

It was the next day, and to say my anxiety was sky-high was an understatement. Roman hadn't left me alone. We had cooked together - in mostly silence - and he continuously stole glances at me and asked if I was alright, but I couldn't get more than a few words out.

He refused to fall asleep before me, and I could tell he had put two-and-two together and realised that something was wrong. He just didn't know what.

I was going to need to use my gift on Roman again today, and I was hoping that this time, it would actually work. Then, when I had him feeling nothing but compassion, I could run and never look back. I was going to be damned to a life of dreaming about what could have been with my mate.

The feelings I had for him were unmatched. I didn't feel like myself when without him, but he didn't even know my true self. I wished I could be transparent with him. I wanted so badly for him to know the real me, instead of the fake Scarlett I had created. But that could get me killed - just like those in the book probably had been.

I wasn't completely innocent in this, though. I had made mistakes. I hadn't treated Roman the way he probably deserved in the beginning, but I was scared.

The control fear had on me was disturbing. It was like a viper, contorting around me and squeezing whenever I got too comfortable, reminding me that I could never enjoy life when I was cursed with being a gifted wolf.

"So where shall we start? The bookshelf?" Roman asked me as he carried a bucket and mop into his father's study. Somehow I had been roped into helping him clean it, and although I had insisted that I had a pounding headache, my mate was adamant that cleaning would distract me.

It was unlike him to be so dismissive when I wasn't feeling well, and I wondered why he was so keen to have me with him in this place.

Roman wanted to de-clutter the bookshelf, claiming that his father had far too many books and some of his pack members could benefit from the old cookbooks and novels that he never used.

"Are you able to wipe down the tops for me?" Roman asked, sliding the ladder over, and I gulped, nodding.

I was going to ignore the book. I was going to pretend it wasn't even there.

Clambering up the ladder, I began wiping the dust from the top of the shelf, beginning in the corner furthest away from it. Roman watched me with curious eyes as he fiddled around with the dustpan and brush below me. Was he even cleaning?

"If there's anything up there, can you pass it down to me?"

My heartbeat was pumping loudly in my ears - so loudly I barely even heard my mate's request - and I reached towards the book with shaking hands and gripped it. Roman took it from me, and I jumped when he placed his hands on my waist to catch my attention.

"Step down for me," he said, his voice husky.

I couldn't do anything but adhere, and I stared up at him with a tight jaw and pursed lips, my gaze drifting down to the book Roman had placed on his father's desk.

"We need to sort it into a pile. Do you want to take a look at what it is, Scarlett?" Roman's voice was calm, but there was a hint of something else laced in it that I couldn't quite put my finger on. Desperation? Uncertainty?

My nose stung as tears threatened to reappear, and I glanced towards the door, the action catching his attention.

He sighed, running his tongue along the front of his teeth in angst.

I didn't know what was going on, but I needed to get out of here, so I pushed as much guilt and compassion onto him as possible, my heart skipping a beat in my chest as Roman narrowed his eyes at me, shaking his head. He appeared slightly uncomfortable, and he cleared his throat, his eyes piercing. "Please don't do that."

"What?" I gasped, taking a step backward, my legs wobbling.

My gift hadn't worked. Again. And for some fucked up reason, Roman knew I was trying to get inside of his head.

"Why don't you want to look at the book, Scarlett?" Roman questioned, his voice sympathetic and warm, yet hard and assertive. He stood tall, towering over me, but giving me enough room so that I didn't feel preyed upon.

If I made a run for it? Would he let me go? Or drag me back into the room, and demand why my behaviour has been so strange?

I shook my head, stealing another glance at the book before I averted it to the door again. My mouth was dry. So dry it was impossible to swallow. My stomach lurched, and my alarm rose until it was spilling out of my pores, coating my body in a thin layer of sweat.

"Is it because you're a gifted wolf?"