The sun was barely rising when the carriage pulled up to the path by the cottage. He thanked the lackey who he'd hired to drive him, and ordered him to wait for Carver.
His steps crunched over the gravel as he approached the cottage. The gravel behind him rustled slightly and he spun to see Carver looming.
"Hey Boss. How'd the job go?"
Scar dug in his pocket for the necklace and pushed it into Carver's hands.
"I got the payment."
Carver looked at him hesitantly, "Are you okay boss?"
"I'm just fine!"
He turned from Carver's suprised stare and headed for the cottage door, effectively ending their conversation.
He threw the door open to see Nadine leaning over the sink her face was in her hands. She straightened. Her whole body going stiff. Her right fist clutched an envelope. Her knuckles were white. Within seconds her left hand dissapeared in front of her face and then reappeared on the sink.
Was she crying?
She didnt move from the window and he closed the door quietly behind him. He stood just inside the doorway for a long moment. When it was apparent that she was going no where he approached her quietly.
"Nadine?"
No response. He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.
She turned on him so fast his training had to fight the urge to grab her wrist as she flung the envelope into his face her chains rattling loundly..
"Don't touch me!" Her voice was fierce and dangerous. Each word sharp and punctuated as if she was stabbing him with each one.
He took a step back. His eyes quickly assessed that his earleir assumption had been correct.
Her nose was a cute shade of pink and her eyes were a surprising shade of bright violet. Her hair softly hung in disarray around her face. She was cute when she was mad- beautiful when she cried- and he felt such a deep shame burning in his chest as he looked at the devastation caused by his actions. Internally he cursed himself for leaving the envelope in the cottage. Most of all he cursed himself for being his father's son.
He didn't know what to say. "Nadine..."
A beautiful honeydew hand rose and planted itself squarely between them, tremoring slightly.
"Don't."
Her voice was devastatingly cold. If looks could kill he'd be dead. She turned and went to the room. Nadine snapped the curtain shut between them and he heard her dissolve into tears. He heard the soft rustle of clothing as her knees touched the hardwood. The jangle of her shackles as she moved her hands to cover her face.
His heart broke softly in his chest, and he stepped back outside into the cool morning air. He couldn't bear to listen to her cry.
The sun filtered softly through the branches of the trees. They were changing and it seemed to him the leaves were coated in flame and gold. He opened the door and walked to the curtain. He got down on to his knees as close as he could.
Working the streets he had always been so quick with a response to any situation. A lie sprang to his lips so quickly, but finding the right thing to say that was also truth was harder for him.
He pondered on his words while he listened to the lightly audible weeping of the woman behind the curtain. An occasional rustle of chains and clothing as she lifted her hand to wipe away a tear. He closed his eyes resisting the urge to push away the curtain and take her into his arms. He wanted to soothe her, but there was no smoothing this over.
He spoke quietly, "My name is not Edward Euthania. I technically don't even know my real name," Nadines breathing had stilled. She was quiet, "My father called me boy; among worst things, until I was finally given a street name at the age of eight."
He smiled bitterly, "My father gave me the Scar that I have on my face when he finally gave me my name. I was so proud that he gave me his last name with it that I didnt care about the rest. Little did I know the name wasn't a priviledge. It was a claim."
He sat up against the pillar of the archway. Carefully, leaning as to not disturb the curtain in any way.
"I've never been his son. I am his property. Do you understand?"
There was no answer on the other end, but at least she was not still weeping.
"I have to do the jobs he gives me because that's who I am. Without the jobs without the gang I'm less than nobody. If I leave the gang I'm as good as a deadman. A double crossing piece of property that outlived my worth. I'm sorry Nadine, but I dont know how to be anything else, and even if I did it wouldn't matter. I met you on a job... You were suppose to be an easy job."
He laughed bitterly, "The job was so easy i thought they were throwing me into an early 'retirement'."
He paused hearing her hand cover her mouth at the shock. He lowered his voice to a whisper as shame burned a hole in his heart.
"It turns out you were the hardest job I've ever had.The day I was born I didn't have a chance in hell at being anything worthy of a honorable life and that has never changed." He stood, "And it never will."
When nobody answered this time he walked out the door and didnt stop walking until he reached the little lake where they'd been different people and life had been easier because of it, but he couldn't be Edward anymore. He was Scar. Scar Sylvador.
***
She felt a twinge of pity for him as the front door clicked shut, but her own pain was still washing over her in waves. One moment she would be empathetic to Edward.
Or whatever he was called, and the next she was back to dealing with her own emotions.
"I'm a gangster Nadine, an assassin, next in line to the Sylvador gang, I have connections. I can provide security." The words he had said to her the night he kidnapped her.
They played again in her mind today, He could not have truly wanted to protect her. If he had cared for her he wouldnt have left her to have sex with another, while leaving her here; shackled like a dog.
What if the cottage had gone up in flames? She could have died!
What if some dangerous man had been wandering around under the cover of darkness looking to cause trouble?
Her thoughts drifted to his voice a few moments ago. His quiet whisper as he revealed parts of himself to her. Was it an act? She sighed, it must have been. That's who he was- a liar and a thief.
She stood feeling slightly faint and turned to sit on the edge of the bed. She plopped down,exhausted, and pulled her legs up in front of her. Resting her forehead on her knees and cradling her legs with the chains. The cold metal rested against he ankles and fresh tears sprang to her eyes.
He was a seducer of woman, and she had been nothing more than an idiot.