47. Scarlett
Scarlett
T hey said we were stuck another day.
Power out down the road And the new guy’s—Zeke—his car conveniently wouldn’t start. Something about the weather. Something about “too dangerous to leave.”
I didn’t care about the reason.
Because they weren’t ready for what I was going to do with another day.
Everyone was on edge. Walking on glass. Trace hadn’t looked me in the eye since I slammed the door in his face. Alden kept checking in with those quiet glances that said everything he didn’t say out loud. Kane and Rhett had barely spoken.
And me?
I was fine.
Totally.
Fucking.
Fine.
I walked into the living room in one of Lena’s oversized button-downs, unbuttoned just enough to cause a problem. My bikini bottoms peeked out. My hair a mess.
Let them look.
They were.
“Want to play something?” I asked sweetly, dropping onto the couch.
Kane raised an eyebrow. “Like what?”
“Truth or dare?” I offered, innocent.
Rhett groaned. “Please no.”
“Strip poker?” I smirked.
Trace looked up. Just for a second. Then looked away.
Coward.
Alden sat in the corner, hands clasped, like he didn’t trust himself to move.
Good.
“Fine,” I said. “Let’s play ‘ Most Likely To. ’” I crossed one leg over the other, slow. “Most likely to snap first. Most likely to lie to the people they care about. Most likely to watch someone break and not do a damn thing.”
Sloane whistled low. “Damn, Scar.”
Lena threw popcorn at me. “You’re unhinged.”
“Finally someone notices,” I said with a grin.
I was burning inside.
But I wasn’t going to cry anymore.
I was going to make them watch me smirk instead .
Standing up, I sauntered toward the kitchen for a drink, brushing past Alden—close enough to feel him inhale.
I poured tequila into a glass. No lime. No salt. No mercy.
“Oh,” I added casually, “someone go get Zeke.”
The room stiffened.
Rhett blinked. “Why?”
“Because I want him to see what chaos actually looks like,” I said. “Let’s see how well he plays games.”
Trace’s jaw locked so tight I thought I heard his teeth grind.
Alden didn’t move.
Lena choked on her drink. “Scarlett.”
I smiled wider. Fire blooming in my chest. “What? He’s part of the fun now, right?”
And for the first time since Zeke arrived, I felt powerful again.
Because they wanted me.
And now, he would too.
***
The tequila burned. But I burned hotter.
The living room looked like a crime scene from a party that had gone too far—blankets tangled like bodies, glass rings on every surface. Tension hanging in the air like smoke.
I took the center like a throne. Hair wild, thighs bare, shirt barely buttoned. Power clung to me like perfume.
Sloane was curled in the corner, already blushing. Lena sat cross-legged, half-horrified, half-obsessed. The boys? They didn’t know whether to run or beg.
Before anyone could move, the door creaked.
Zeke stepped in like he’d been summoned—dark shirt, darker smirk. Like he’d smelled the tension from down the hall and wanted a taste.
“Speak of the devil,” I said, lifting my glass.
He gave a small bow. “Wouldn’t miss it, sweetheart.”
I watched his eyes track the room—every body, every glance. But mostly, me. Like he already knew I was the fuse.
“Take a seat,” I said sweetly. “We’re playing.”
He smiled like it was his favorite word. “Aren’t we always?”
Trace hadn’t said a word. Alden took a slow sip, knuckles white around the glass. Rhett and Kane leaned forward like this was the only entertainment they’d ever need.
I spun the bottle lazily.
It landed on Rhett.
“Truth or dare?” I asked, voice syrupy sweet.
He sighed. “I know better than to choose dare with you. Truth.”
I grinned. “Who in this room would you fuck if no one ever found out?”
The room tensed.
Rhett’s eyes flicked to Lena, then Sloane, then—briefly—me.
He muttered, “Lena,” and took a long drink.
She gasped. “Oh my god.”
Sloane choked. “Scar, what the hell.”
“I’m just asking questions,” I said innocently.
Rhett spun. It landed on Alden.
“Dare,” Alden said immediately. His voice was low. Firm. Already looking at me.
Rhett grinned. “Take a shot… off Scarlett’s thigh.”
Trace looked up, his eyes darkened, fists tightening on his thighs like he was holding back a war.
Kane whispered, “holy shit.”
Alden didn’t flinch as I pulled my shirt up just a little higher and stretched one leg out across the coffee table, daring him.
He poured the tequila right above my knee. The room silent.
Then Alden leaned in.
His lips touched my skin—slow, hot, lingering. His tongue traced the edge of the liquor. His breath lingered against my thigh like he didn’t want to stop.
I didn’t move.
Sloane gasped. “Jesus Christ.”
Lena’s hand flew over her mouth. “That’s… wow.”
When Alden pulled back, his eyes met mine for a single second too long.
Then he licked his lips and passed the bottle like nothing had happened.
I looked at Trace.
He was watching. Tight. Silent. Possessive.
“Your turn?” I asked, smiling like sin.
The bottle spun again.
I wasn’t playing to win.
I was playing to make them snap .
It clicked past Rhett. Past Kane. Past Sloane—who looked like she was actively reconsidering her friendship with me—and landed on Trace.
The room went still.
His expression didn’t budge.
“Truth or dare?” I asked, voice dripping sugar and gasoline.
Trace stared at me for a long, loaded second. “Dare.”
I tilted my head. “You sure about that?”
A muscle twitched in his cheek. “Try me.”
My smile was slow. Sharp. “Kiss someone in this room. But not me.”
Lena choked while Sloane whispered, “Oh my fucking god.”
Alden didn’t move. A flicker of something dangerous sparked behind his eyes.
Trace’s gaze stayed locked on mine. His fists clenched at his sides.
“No?” I said, all innocence. “I thought you were brave.”
His lips parted. Then he turned—walked across the circle—and kissed Sloane.
It wasn’t long. Wasn’t soft, either.
Just enough to scorch the whole fucking room.
Sloane sat frozen, one hand over her mouth.
“What the hell is happening?” Lena whispered.
I spun the bottle again before anyone could breathe. It landed on Kane.
“Truth or dare?”
He raised an eyebrow. “Dare.”
“Pick someone and describe—in detail—how you’d fuck them.”
Everyone groaned. Sloane full-on shrieked.
Kane grinned. “Scarlett.”
Of course.
He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “I’d start with your neck. Slow. Let you squirm. Get your shirt open—button by button—make you beg before I even touched you.”
Lena hid behind a pillow. Rhett was wheezing while Alden looked like he was about to kill something.
Trace stood, frozen. But his glare could’ve burned down the fucking lake.
“And then?” I asked, voice too casual.
Kane grinned wider. “You don’t want me to say.”
“Oh, I do.”
Sloane made a strangled noise. “Okay, we need rules.”
“No,” I said. “We need honesty.”
The bottle spun again.
I was just getting started.
We were high on the chaos now. Dizzy from tension and tequila and the weight of all the things we weren’t saying out loud.
It landed on Lena.
Sweet, wide-eyed Lena—who had pulled her legs up to her chest like she could hide from the game.
“Truth or dare?” I asked, resting my chin on my hand.
She stared at the bottle like it might save her. “Truth.”
I smiled. “Who do you think is the most dangerous person in this room?”
The air shifted.
Lena blinked. “What?”
“You heard me.”
Rhett coughed. “Scar…”
“No,” I said. “I want to know what little Lena thinks.”
She looked around the circle. Slowly. Hesitantly.
Her eyes passed over Kane—then Rhett—then paused on Zeke, who smirked from the armchair like this was all a goddamn opera built for him.
But she didn’t stop there.
She looked at Alden.
Then Trace.
Finally, back at me.
“I think it’s you,” she said quietly.
Even the fire cracked louder.
Trace tensed. Alden’s lips parted like he might object. Sloane full-on gasped.
“Me?” I said, smiling. “Why?”
Lena fidgeted. “Because you’re the one everyone’s afraid of. Even if they won’t say it.”
I laughed. Loud. Sharp. Threw my head back like it didn’t matter. But god, it felt like power humming under my skin.
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” I said.
I spun the bottle again.
It landed on Zeke.
The smile that stretched across his face made my stomach tighten.
“Truth,” he said smoothly. “Let’s see what game the queen wants to play now.”
I leaned forward, tequila heat crawling up my throat. “What’s the worst thing you’ve ever done?”
The fire cracked louder.
Zeke took a slow sip from his drink. “I followed a girl. For six months. Watched her eat, sleep, shower. Watched her fall in love with someone who didn’t deserve her.”
Everyone froze.
Even I didn’t know how to respond.
Then Zeke smiled wider. “And I didn’t stop it. That was the worst part.”
The silence was deafening.
I smiled back, slow. “Your turn to spin.”