107. Scarlett
Scarlett
I woke drenched in sweat. Sheets twisted tight around my calves. My skin damp. My pulse still racing from something that wasn’t a nightmare—but didn’t feel right either.
The room was still dark.
And I was alone.
The truth had been circling me for weeks. Hiding behind half-answers and haunted stares. I wasn’t going to wait for it anymore.
My hair twisted into a knot with hands that didn’t quite stop shaking as I grabbed the lighter. Then I slipped out into the night.
Not to my kitchen. Not to Trace or Alden or Kane.
To Zeke.
The path twisted beneath the trees. Familiar now. Every branch and flicker of moonlight etched into memory.
Zeke’s villa sat tucked beneath the trees, set slightly apart from the others—as if even the architecture knew he didn’t belong with the rest.
The door creaked open with the weight of a decision already made.
And there she was.
Brielle.
Cross-legged on Zeke’s couch, wearing one of his shirts, sleeves swallowed by her wrists. Her dark hair tumbled loose over one shoulder, and she looked up without surprise—as if she’d been expecting me.
Her gaze was unreadable. Casual. Sharp.
She looked… at home.
Zeke stood nearby, shirtless, hand resting on the back of the couch. A file folder sat open on the table between them, pages curled at the edges. He froze when he saw me—but it wasn’t alarm in his eyes. Just wariness. Like he knew this moment had been coming.
My feet didn’t move.
The floor might as well have turned to stone beneath me.
Brielle blinked slowly, then let out the softest breath. “I wondered how long it would take you to come.”
Her voice was silk over steel. She wasn’t flustered, wasn’t scrambling to explain.
They weren’t caught. Just seen. Like this was the part I hadn’t been invited to—only allowed to discover.
“I didn’t know she was here,” I said to Zeke, my voice quieter than I meant.
His throat bobbed, but he said nothing.
Brielle’s eyes dropped to the lighter still clutched in my hand. “You saw him.”
It wasn’t a question.
I gave the smallest nod.
“In the dream,” I murmured.
Silence stretched, but it wasn’t empty. It was heavy. Like the room itself was holding its breath.
“Your blood’s waking up,” Brielle said gently. “The bond fractured what was left of the wall. It was only a matter of time.”
I took a step forward. Then another.
Brielle exhaled slowly, as if something inevitable had finally arrived.
I looked between them, then settled on her.
“I need to talk to you. Alone.”
Zeke didn’t argue. Just glanced once at Brielle, then slipped past me and out the door, grabbing the coffee mug off the table on his way out.
I waited until the door clicked shut, then turned to her.
“You and Zeke—are you a thing?”
She raised a brow, half amused. “We have history. Complicated. He was tipsy and asked me over. That’s all.”
I nodded. It wasn’t the answer I expected.
But honestly? They’d be a cute couple.
Dark and dangerous meets brunette bombshell chaos. The kind of pairing that would burn fast and wreck everything in its path.
I believed her, though.
Still, the sight of her in his shirt had rattled something.
I moved to the edge of the small table, bracing my palms against the cool wood.
“There’s something wrong with me,” I said.
Brielle didn’t flinch. Just waited.
“I’ve been dreaming… things. About the Red Veil. About him.”
That made her still.
“My father,” I clarified, breath catching. “He’s older. Clearer than I’ve ever remembered him. Not the ghost version. Not the blur from birthday cards or hospital beds. This was sharp. Alive. And he spoke to me.”
Brielle’s eyes held mine, unblinking.
“He comes to me in dreams?—but they feel real.”
“They are, ” she said softly. “In a way.”
I stood straighter, heart thudding. “So he’s alive.”
Brielle didn’t nod. Didn’t deny it either.
“You’ve seen him,” I said.
“That wasn’t supposed to happen,” she murmured. “But yes. He’s alive.”
The air left my lungs.
All these years, I thought he was dead.
A man whispered in grief. A ghost trapped in memory.
“I want to see him,” I said. “I want the truth. I want everything.”
Brielle exhaled, folding her arms. “Scarlett… if I take you to him, that’s it. There’s no pretending after. No slipping back into the life you had. You don’t come back untouched.”
“I’m done pretending.”
She looked at me for a moment. “The boys will lose their goddamn minds.”
“They already have.”
That earned the faintest curve of her mouth. “They’ll come after you.”
“Let them.”
Her expression shifted—respect, maybe. Maybe regret.
“I need answers,” I said, steady now. “And I’m not asking for permission.”
“We leave before sunrise,” she said. “ Quietly.”
She turned, but her voice came over her shoulder.
“Don’t bring anything you don’t want to lose,” Brielle said as she turned away. “The Red Veil doesn’t return things whole.”
And I knew then—I wasn’t just going to meet the man who gave me his blood.
I was going to meet the part of myself I’d buried to survive.