82. Scarlett
Scarlett
I woke to the sound of water running.
Trace stood in the bathroom, shirtless, head bowed, one hand bracing the counter. His gaze caught mine in the mirror—no words, just pretense. The weight of everything unsaid hanging between us.
I slipped out of bed. Alden stirred beside me, tossing once, phone dimly lit in his hand. He didn’t look over. Just scrolled, pretending not to care—but his thumb stopped moving.
I grabbed the first shirt I saw on the floor—Trace’s, of course. Worn and oversized. It smelled like him—smoke, cedar, danger—and I didn’t bother with anything else. Just bare skin under fabric and the faint ache between my thighs that reminded me exactly what I’d done.
What we had done.
I headed out of my villa, heading toward the main house and into the kitchen like it was any other morning.
Kane, Rhett, and Zeke were at the island—half-eaten food, mugs in hand. Their conversation shifted the second I stepped into the kitchen.
“Morning,” I said, too casually moving straight for the coffee. Grabbing a mug, I poured slow, pretending not to feel their eyes all over me.
Rhett cleared his throat. “Sleep well?”
“Like a baby,” I replied, sipping.
Kane snorted. “Uh-huh.”
Zeke tilted his head. “That’s Trace’s shirt.”
I shrugged. “It was dark. Could’ve been Alden’s.”
Rhett coughed into his mug.
Kane leaned back in his chair and dragged a hand over his mouth, trying and failing to hide a grin. “Holy shit.”
I turned, leaned my hip into the counter, and met their eyes one by one. “Something funny?”
“No,” Kane said. “Just bracing for the fallout when those two show up.”
Zeke didn’t laugh. Didn’t smile. He set his mug down—hard. The ceramic cracked against the granite, loud enough to make Rhett blink.
Then silence.
Heavy.
The kind that pressed into your chest and made you feel watched.
Zeke’s eyes hadn’t moved from me.
“You feel different,” he said.
The words hit harder than they should have. “Excuse me?”
He pointed subtly—not at me, but at my wrist. “Your energy. It’s changed.”
I gripped my mug tighter.
“You guys are being weird,” I said. “Someone better start explaining.”
No one did.
Rhett looked down. Kane shook his head slowly, like whatever this was had just confirmed something. Zeke? He just stared. Not rude. Not afraid.
Almost… reverent.
The villa door creaked behind me. Footsteps. Trace. Then Alden.
I didn’t turn.
I felt the shift in the room. The way the other three glanced between each other. Their expressions sharpened, eyes flicking toward the two who had just entered.
It wasn’t just shock.
It was understanding.
Recognition.
Something had happened.
Something final.
“What?” I snapped.
Zeke’s fingers tapped once on the counter, then stopped.
Kane blew out a breath. “Shit.”
Still, no one answered.
And that silence?
Said everything.