𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐔𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐅𝐋𝐘 𝐄𝐅𝐅𝐄𝐂𝐓 | 𝐠. 𝐟𝐥𝐲𝐧𝐧

𝟎𝟔. 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐚𝐦𝐨

How do you return to normal everyday life knowing that the world you're surrounded by is a lie? You simply don't. So perhaps it was a good thing that Scarlett's life wasn't normal, at least it hadn't been since a terrorist entered her life and destroyed everything that she'd worked so hard to build. Only now it wasn't just the terrorist's fault but this elusive organization known as Rittenhouse.

Scarlett planned to storm straight into her father's office and demand answers, but when she arrived just outside the door she could hear the ongoing argument within. Rather than join, she bided her time, listening to see if she'd glean any new information.

"Because I don't have a car," Rufus exclaimed, answering a question Scarlett assumed her father had asked prior. She could hear Rufus shuffling behind the door as he continued his rant. "Ask my why I don't have a car. Because I am too scared to get in mine because your Rittenhouse guys hacked me while I was going fifty miles an hour!"

"Are you all right?" Mason asked.

"Do I look all right?" Rufus snapped.

"Right, well, I'm sorry," Mason apologized, but it didn't sound very genuine. "They, um, shouldn't be contacting you directly."

There was a tense pause before Rufus's incredulous voice scoffed with disbelief. "Is that all you have to say? You sold me out. You had them send some goon to threaten me and my family."

"Wait a minute. I'd never do that," Mason quickly interjected. "You're like a son to me. Scarlett looks at you like a brother. Now, for you to think that I would..."

Rufus's voice softened—both with disgust and like he was trying to leave the conversation. "I don't know what to think of you... What would Scarlett think of you?"

"You leave her out of this," Mason's voice lowered—almost like a threat—then switched to a less-sympathetic warning. "Well, now you know what they're capable of. You have to cooperate. We both do."

Scarlett left before she could listen to anymore. Sprinting down several halls until she'd found herself well lost throughout the maze of the industry interior. She pressed her back against a wall, breathing heavily as she tried to process the information she'd unknowingly been handed.

Rittenhouse was real. They weren't just the delusions of a paranoid terrorist anymore, but from the fear that quivered in her father's voice, she understood they were a threat to be reckoned.

Just when she was beginning to accept the truth, her phone vibrated in her pocket. Slowly, she pulled it out into the open, then almost chucked it across the room when she saw her father's name. She allowed it to ring four times before finally picking up in the midst of the fifth. However, she remained silent, her tongue suddenly dry with disdain.

"Scarlett?"

"Mmhm."

Her father paused. She could hear him take a breath on the other side as if trying to keep the fear out of his voice, the concern in his question was evident though. "Are you alright? It took you awhile to answer. You're not hungover again, are you? Because I notice more than I let on—"

"I'm fine," Scarlett snapped, her voice cold. "My stomach's churning, but that's just a side effect of rolling over and remembering that my fiancé is dead. Y'know because of your stupid time machine. Not to mention I've received no moral support from the man who's claimed to be my father—"

"Now wait just a moment," Mason interrupted. "We may not be biologically related, but that doesn't make me any less your father."

"Really?" Scarlett asked. "Because a father doesn't put their kid in life threatening situations. A father shouldn't keep secrets. A father should encourage their child to follow their dreams."