Chapter 11- Possessive
1315 Words
Scarlett
The shower was almost too hot.
But Scarlett still stood beneath the steaming water long after she should’ve gotten out, arms wrapped tightly around herself while everything from last night replayed relentlessly in her head.
The cabin.
Will.
Priscilla.
Blaine’s hands on her.
Dean kicking the door open.
Scarlett squeezed her eyes shut hard.
Her stomach twisted violently.
She looked down slowly at herself.
Faint bruises marked her wrists.
A reddish fingerprint bruise lingered against her upper arm.
And the slap across her cheek had darkened faintly overnight.
Scarlett stared at herself in the massive shower glass feeling numb.
Everything felt unreal.
Like it happened to someone else.
But it didn’t.
It happened to her.
A shaky breath escaped her chest.
And suddenly she couldn’t stop thinking about one thing—
If Dean hadn’t gotten there in time…
Scarlett’s stomach lurched hard.
“No,” she whispered immediately.
She couldn’t think about that.
Couldn’t.
Her breathing started shaking again.
Then through the bathroom door—
She heard Dean’s voice downstairs.
Cold.
Sharp.
Dangerous.
Scarlett frowned slightly before turning the shower water off.
The mansion stayed eerily quiet except for the faint sound of Dean speaking somewhere below her.
Angry.
Scarlett wrapped herself quickly in one of the massive black towels before stepping out carefully.
His voice carried faintly upstairs.
“I don’t give a f**k what his father said.”
Scarlett froze.
Silence.
Then Dean again.
Lower this time.
More terrifying.
“If Blaine Walker even breathes her name again,” he said coldly, “I’ll finish what I started.”
Scarlett’s pulse stumbled.
Something about hearing him say that should’ve scared her.
It should’ve terrified her.
Instead—
Warmth twisted strangely through her chest.
Why did Dean care this much?
Scarlett swallowed hard before quickly getting dressed in the clean clothes Dean left folded neatly on the bathroom counter.
Her hoodie.
Her ripped jean shorts.
Even her shoes cleaned somehow.
The simple fact he’d taken care of all of this for her made her chest ache all over again.
By the time Scarlett stepped quietly out of the bathroom, Dean was back upstairs.
Waiting.
Of course he was.
He looked up immediately the second she entered the room.
And the dangerous edge in his face softened instantly.
“You okay?”
Scarlett nodded automatically.
A lie.
Dean clearly knew it too.
His eyes slowly scanned over her face before narrowing slightly when he noticed the faint bruise along her cheek.
Something dark flashed across his expression instantly.
Pure rage.
“Dean—,” she said shakily.
“I’m gonna kill him.”
The calmness in his voice made her stomach flip.
Scarlett blinked softly.
“You can’t just kill people.”
Dean stepped closer slowly.
“Watch me.”
The possessiveness in his tone sent goosebumps down her arms.
Scarlett hated how safe it made her feel.
Dean’s eyes flicked toward her damp hair next.
“Sit.”
Scarlett blinked.
“What?”
Dean nodded toward the edge of the bed.
“Your hair’s dripping everywhere.”
Scarlett stared at him for a second before slowly sitting down.
Confused.
Dean disappeared briefly into the bathroom before returning with a towel.
Then without another word—
He stepped between her knees and started drying her hair carefully.
Scarlett stopped breathing.
The intimacy of it hit way harder than it should have.
Dean’s large hands moved slowly through her damp hair, rough fingers unexpectedly gentle while silence filled the massive bedroom around them.
“You don’t have to do this,” Scarlett whispered weakly.
Dean barely looked at her.
“Yes I do.”
The certainty in his voice made her chest tighten painfully.
Scarlett looked down quickly.
Because if she kept staring at him right now—
She might completely fall apart.
Dean tilted her chin upward gently with two fingers.
“Stop hiding from me.”
Her breath caught softly.
His blue eyes locked onto hers.
Heavy.
Focused.
Possessive.
Like nothing else in the room existed except her.
Then his gaze slowly shifted.
Seeing the bruise blooming across her cheek. Deepening into a darker purple color.
Scarlett watched his entire expression change.
Not louder.
Not explosive.
Worse.
His jaw tightened slowly while something dark and dangerous settled behind his eyes.
A quiet fury.
The kind that sat cold beneath the surface instead of burning hot.
Scarlett barely breathed as Dean’s thumb brushed carefully beneath the bruise, the rough pad of his finger ghosting softly across her skin like he was trying not to hurt her any further.
The tenderness completely unraveled her.
Because this was the same man who nearly beat someone unconscious last night.
The same man capable of terrifying violence.
Yet here he was touching her like she was fragile enough to break in his hands.
Dean studied the mark silently for a long moment.
“He hit you.”
The words came low and controlled.
But Scarlett could hear the dangerous edge underneath them.
Like Dean was picturing it happening.
Like he wanted blood for it.
Her stomach tightened unexpectedly.
Not from fear.
Something far more confusing.
Dean’s hand lingered against her face one second too long before he finally forced himself to pull away.
His fingers flexed once at his side.
“I’ll send someone up with ice for the bruise,” he said more roughly this time, like putting space between them was the only thing keeping his temper restrained.
That dark protective anger should’ve scared Scarlett.
Instead it only made her want to lean back into his touch.
-
A buzzing sound suddenly shattered the moment.
Scarlett blinked.
Her phone.
Dean’s stare turned razor sharp.
The phone buzzed again across the nightstand.
Will.
Another call.
And another.
And another.
Scarlett’s stomach twisted painfully.
Dozens of missed calls covered the screen.
Texts flooding in one after another.
Please answer me.
Scarlett I’m sorry.
Please talk to me.
It was a dumb mistake.
I love you.
Please don’t do this.
Scarlett’s chest tightened painfully.
Almost a year.
Almost a year with Will.
And somehow she still felt stupid enough to miss him despite everything.
Dean noticed her expression instantly.
His entire demeanor cooled dangerously.
“You don’t owe him a damn thing.”
Scarlett looked away quietly.
“I just…” Her voice cracked slightly. “I don’t understand how everything got destroyed so fast.”
Dean stared at her silently for a second.
Then:
“He destroyed it,” he corrected coldly. “Not you.”
Scarlett’s eyes burned again.
The phone buzzed once more.
Will calling again.
A muscle ticked in Deans cheek.
Then before Scarlett realized what he was doing—
Dean grabbed the phone off the nightstand.
“Dean—” Scarlett said in a panic.
Too late.
He answered it.
Silence filled the room instantly.
Then Will’s frantic voice exploded through the speaker.
“Scarlett? Baby please just talk to me—”
Dean’s expression turned lethal.
“She’s not talking to you.”
Dead silence.
Then:
“…Dean?”
Dean’s eyes stayed locked on Scarlett the entire time.
Cold.
Distant.
Terrifying.
“You don’t get to call her after what happened,” Dean said quietly.
Will sounded panicked instantly.
“I didn’t know they were gonna—”
“You had one f*****g job. To keep her safe. And you failed her!”
The words hit like a knife.
Scarlett’s chest tightened sharply.
Will’s breathing turned ragged through the phone.
“Please let me talk to her.”
Dean’s stare never left Scarlett.
And somehow—
That made it feel even more intense.
“She doesn’t need you anymore.”
Then Dean hung up.
Just like that.
Scarlett stared at him speechless.
Dean slowly set the phone back down before looking at her again.
Somewhere between fear and comfort, Scarlett was starting to crave the very man she should’ve stayed away from.
- Writer
