89. Scarlett
Scarlett
T he sky burned gold above the water, everything slick with heat and salt. I walked ahead barefoot, the hem of my dress brushing my knees, clinging as I moved.
Behind me, Trace didn’t speak. His steps followed mine with quiet purpose, steady and close. Too close to ignore.
“You’re watching me,” I said without turning.
“Hard not to,” he said. “You wreck everything.”
“That’s the plan.”
We reached the beach path, where low flames flickered beside an open table.
Kane lounged in a chair, half-drunk already.
Rhett lined up bottles and poured generously into whatever glass he could find.
Zeke sat farther off, flipping a knife between his fingers with no real interest in the conversation.
Alden stood alone near the edge of the table, sleeves rolled, shirt slightly rumpled, his hazel eyes locked on the flames. He looked... unfairly good. The kind of hot that made my stomach flip—and pissed me off just a little.
As we stepped into the glow, heads turned. Rhett was the first to speak.
“Scarlett, are you trying to commit murder by dress?”
I dropped into a chair without hesitation and stole the shot from his hand. “If I was aiming to kill, you’d already be bleeding.”
“That’s hot,” Kane muttered, lifting his drink.
Trace sat beside me, saying nothing. His thigh pressed into mine under the table, anchoring me without demanding anything. I didn’t lean in. Didn’t pull away.
“Someone hand me another,” I said, setting down the empty glass. “Today sucked.”
Alden looked at me, expression unreadable. “You sure?”
“Wasn’t asking.”
Rhett chuckled and poured again. “To survival, then?”
“To escalation,” I said, raising my glass.
“To not thinking too hard about it,” Kane added.
We drank. Cheap liquor, warm from the sun, but it settled low and slow in my ribs.
“You look good,” Alden said after a beat.
I didn’t break his stare. “I feel worse.”
Trace’s fingers tapped once against the bench.
Zeke finally spoke. “You shouldn’t be this calm.”
I faced him. “Would panicking change anything?”
He didn’t answer.
Rhett leaned forward. “This—this right here is why she scares me. In a good way.”
“She’s always been scary,” Kane said. “We’re just catching up.”
I reached for another drink and let the burn clear the edge from my voice. “If I’m going to be hunted or haunted or whatever, I’d rather do it in heels.”
“Barefoot counts,” Trace murmured beside me, just loud enough for me to hear.
The others kept talking, but the sound blurred at the edges. For a moment, the drinks and laughter were enough. I didn’t need to understand everything. I didn’t need to figure out where I came from or why I couldn’t remember.
I just needed this. The night. The warmth. The pull of something sharp and alive.
The conversation drifted into pockets—Zeke updating them on the files he found, Rhett teasing Kane about losing the lighter again, Alden still quiet, tracing patterns into the condensation on his bottle.
My plate sat mostly untouched. I wasn’t hungry. Not for food, anyway.
“You gonna eat?” Rhett asked, nudging the edge of my dish with his fork. “Or are you sustaining yourself purely on rage and rebellion now?”
“Don’t tempt me.”
He grinned and leaned back, throwing his arm over the back of Trace’s chair like they’d been on this island for years.
The firelight caught the edge of Alden’s jaw. His focus flicked to the horizon and stayed there.
I watched him, then Trace, then Zeke—who hadn’t sat all night. He just paced the edge of the table, checking his phone like it owed him answers.
“This is a mistake,” Zeke muttered. “We should’ve moved locations after last night.”
“We’ve barely slept,” Trace said, voice calm. “We need tonight.”
Zeke didn’t answer.
I tore off a piece of bread and rolled it between my fingers. “So, let me get this straight,” I said. “You bonded me without meaning to. The Order’s pissed. And we’re just… playing dinner party until they show up?”
Kane raised his glass. “Hell yeah.”
“Great,” I said flatly.
“Look,” Rhett offered, more serious now. “We’re not just sitting around for fun. We’re regrouping. You had your first session today. That was the plan. Tomorrow, we push harder.”
“And Zeke keeps digging,” Trace added.
A gust of wind cut across the beach. My hair whipped into my mouth. I didn’t bother smoothing it down.
Alden finally spoke. “There’s more in the Codex. Something about three-point bonds and lineage interference. But the language is fragmented. Faded. A page is missing, torn out.”
“Faded?” I repeated. “That’s convenient.”
“It’s ancient,” Zeke snapped. “You think the people who wrote this crap had a crystal ball and a printer?”
The table quieted. Even Rhett didn’t joke.
Trace’s hand brushed against mine beneath the table. Not a hold. Not a reach. Just grounding. I didn’t pull away.
“I’ll take the curse,” I said. “But I’m not taking the silence.”
Kane glanced around the table. “Can we at least pretend for five minutes this isn’t about to spiral?”
As if summoned by the universe itself—the impossible timing of chaos—the wind shifted again.
And the sound of heels on sand cut through the night.
Every head turned.
“Well, well. Isn’t this cozy.” She grinned.
She let the breeze carry her onto the deck where we sat at the table, hips swaying as if she was walking into her own goddamn coronation.
She was striking—Tall. Poised. A face that didn’t beg for attention—it demanded it. Full lips, deep bronze skin, and hair so dark it shimmered blue under the lights, falling in perfect, effortless waves over a sleeveless blood-red halter.
Her heels clicked once as she stepped onto the wood floor before she slid into an empty chair across the table and crossed her legs, one ankle hooked elegantly over the other.
I didn’t bother hiding my disgust. “I’m sorry—who the fuck are you?”
She tilted her head. “Seriously? No one told you?” Her voice was silk dipped in poison. “That’s embarrassing for them.”
Trace shifted his weight behind me. Zeke’s grip tightened around his fork.
She cocked her head. “Brielle.”
The name fell out like it should’ve meant something. But all I saw was a stranger with too much confidence and not enough manners.
I sipped my drink, slow, deliberate. “And I’m supposed to care because…?”
She smirked—just a flicker. “Because everything you think you know? It’s about to implode.”
I laughed once, sharp. “You rehearsed that?”
Brielle finally met my stare, unblinking. “Scarlett Monroe. The hidden heir. Raised in the dark and bonded in the worst way possible.”
A beat passed. I didn’t respond. Neither did anyone else.
She rose again, slow and poised. “You think this is about the boys? About pretty little bracelets and stolen nights?”
My pulse kicked harder.
Brielle stepped around the table, heels landing with steady precision. “You’re not just part of this story anymore. You are the story.”
Her gaze cut to Trace, then Alden. “You sealed a bond that shouldn’t exist. Not between three. And definitely not with her.”
Trace leaned back in his chair. He didn’t look away, but he didn’t speak either.
Brielle turned back to me. “You’re the kind of mistake people start wars over.”
I stood up, glass dangling loose in my fingers. “Then maybe they should’ve killed me when they had the chance.”
Brielle smiled like she knew something I didn’t. “The Red Veil knows you’re alive.”
The world didn’t stop—but I swear the waves outside paused for breath.
I took another step, closing the distance. “And?”
“They’re not the only ones.” She looked to Zeke, who hadn’t moved. “Your leash is slipping.”
Zeke stood—slow, deliberate—but it was Rhett who rose first.
“Alright,” Rhett muttered. “That’s enough.”
Brielle raised her hands in mock surrender. “I’m just here for dinner.”
“Funny,” I said. “You look more like dessert.”
That earned a snort from Kane. Brielle’s mouth twitched.
“I’ll play nice,” she said, eyes flicking back to me. “For now.”
I didn’t sit.
Neither did she.
Brielle stood with one hand on the back of a chair, eyes flicking over the table, over me. Her presence didn’t demand attention—it owned it. She looked clean and polished, every detail intentional. Perfect hair, blood-red nails, eyes too bright to be kind.
Zeke didn’t bother greeting her. “How did you find us?”
She smiled faintly, almost bored. “Someone slipped. Your little secret location? Not so secret.”
“Who?” Trace asked, voice low.
She dragged a finger along the table’s edge. “Someone close. That’s all I’ll say.”
Zeke’s stare didn’t shift. “You always were a snake.”
“I learned from the best,” she said sweetly.
“Brielle,” Zeke warned.
Her voice sharpened. “You should’ve sealed her off. Kept your hands to yourselves.”
I stepped toward her. “Why does any of this matter to you?”
Brielle stepped forward, heels silent on the wood. “The bond. It wasn’t yours to have. Wasn’t meant to form. Especially not like this.”
“You keep saying that,” I said. “But what does it actually mean?”
Zeke turned away, muttering something sharp under his breath.
Brielle snapped. “It means you’ve thrown a match into dry kindling. The Order is losing its mind. The Red Veil will do worse.”
My throat went tight. “I’m standing right here. Try saying that again.”
She leaned forward, the barest whisper. “You weren’t meant to exist.”
My chest burned. “And yet—here I am.”
Alden moved in closer behind me, silent but present.
Zeke broke the pause. “Tell her what you know.”
Brielle tapped a fingernail on the chair’s edge. “You want the history lesson? Fine. Ancient bonds were once sealed between warriors—blood for blood, power for power. But never across sides. And never in threes.”
She stepped around the table, deliberate. “Scarlett’s father broke that rule. He crossed lines no one dared to. And now his daughter’s doing the same.”
I stared. “You knew my father.”
“Oh, baby.” She smiled, but it cut. “Everyone did.”
Alden stiffened beside me. Trace still hadn’t said a word. His hands curled against the table, knuckles white.
“And you?” I asked, voice quieter now. “What’s your role in all this?”
“I was a contender,” she said, without flinching. “Trained by both sides. Chosen by neither.”
Rhett snorted. “Because you can’t fake loyalty.”
Her glare snapped to him. “Careful.”
She stepped back, dragging her fingers across the table’s edge. “The Order won’t protect you now. And the Red Veil never would’ve. You’re unclaimed. Untethered. Dangerous.”
“I’m not unclaimed,” I said, steady and clear. “And I’m not scared of you.”
Brielle smiled again—but it didn’t reach her eyes. “You should be.”
She walked closer, all lips and poison. Then pulled out the chair across from me and sat—crossing one leg over the other like we were two girlfriends catching up over cocktails.
“You’re bold,” she said. “I’ll give you that.”
“Have they told you everything yet?” she added, eyes flicking toward the boys. “Or are you still pretending this is just about feelings and secrets and sex?”
Trace tensed. Rhett shifted uncomfortably. Zeke didn’t move, but his stare dropped to the table like he was reevaluating every bad decision that brought her here.
“What else is there?” I asked.
Brielle’s smile didn’t change. “Oh, sweetheart. You think this bond is the whole story?” She glanced over at Zeke.
She leaned forward slightly, her voice quieter now—intimate, almost pitying.
“Have they told you what your blood means? What it makes you?”
I swallowed hard, not backing down. “You don’t get to come here and talk in riddles. Say it.”
“Are you sure?” she said. “Because once you know, you don’t come back from it.”
I turned to the others. “Is she lying?”
No one answered.
Brielle exhaled once, soft. “That’s the thing about memories. You think they’re gone, but they’re not. They’re buried. Locked. Burned into your bones. And I’m guessing.” Her eyes dragged over me. “You’re just starting to feel them wake up.”
Alden stepped forward. “That’s enough.”
But Brielle wasn’t finished. She looked at me again—cool and precise. “Does it bother you? That they knew all this time? That they met you, watched you, touched you… and said nothing?”
I didn’t answer.
Because it did bother me.
She tilted her head. “Are you mad at them?”
Trace’s hand brushed mine, barely a whisper. My body betrayed me, leaning toward the contact even as my mind screamed to pull away.
Brielle saw it. Of course she did.
“Because you should be,” she said. “They stole the choice from you. And now it’s too late.”