Unbound - A Synacky Fan Fiction

Unbound - A Synacky Fan Fiction - Part 2

A/N: Sorry, this part is a little short, and there's no 'graphic' actual Synacky romance yet. There will be...later...don't ya worry :) Also, please comment, I'm dying to know what you guys think!

-          Brian’s POV –

I saw her, walking through those alleyways without a care in the world. Well, obviously, she had loads of stuff burdening her down. Not least her brother and how he hadn’t been home. But she did not care about her walking home. She didn’t care as she passed through the first two alleyways without a hitch. But she seemed startled, confused, even, when she ducked into the third alley. She saw the shadow that loomed over her. She turned around to see me standing a foot behind her.

She didn’t even see me coming. Her eyes widened in fear a split-second before I knocked her out, but I moved too fast for her to run. There was no escape, not now.

I picked her up and carried her back to my old, worn-down Jeep. Knowing that nobody in this part of town would care that an eighteen-year-old was carrying an unconscious fifteen-year-old in his arms and putting her in his car, I started up the engine. I had a room at home she could stay in. The basement was full, but…she could stay upstairs.

I looked over at her. I knew her name, her school, her family situation. She looked tired and defeated, with bags under her eyes and hollow cheeks. She looked like a chubby type of girl, but something – stress, worry, lack of sleep – had taken that off her. Now, despite her reasonable height, she looked like she’d blow away in the wind. Probably she was kind of pretty, if she wasn’t so drained-out looking.

But it wasn’t her that I wanted. I had very little interest in Scarlett Baker. She was a tool, nothing more. But she’s a tool that will need to be treated well. Or else everything falls apart. I nodded at my internal dialogue. Yes, I would need to look after her, and do so well, or else my whole plan could fail. If she died on me…

We were driving for nearly an hour before we arrived at the big house my dear dead parents had left me. I had hated my parents, disliked them in general. I carried Scarlett up the steps and into her new room. She would hate me for this, I realized. I didn’t like being hated. But I had to use Scarlett, I had to. She was my leverage, the only leverage I could get.