120. Scarlett
Scarlett
W e stood at the threshold—Brielle still smirking, Lena trembling, every breath held on the edge of something ancient and irreversible.
Then my father stepped forward.
“She was never meant to wear it,” he said quietly.
Lena flinched. “You told me—”
“I told you the Veil was watching,” he said. “That you had a part to play.”
His voice stayed calm, but the edges were fraying. “But the heir… was always her.”
He looked at me.
“The Codex knew. Thirelin knew. The bond knew. You were born for this, Scarlett.”
Brielle’s expression sharpened.
“She’s already bonded,” Lena said bitterly, voice cutting through the heat. “Don’t say it like that’s something sacred.”
I stepped forward. “You don’t get to be angry that it wasn’t you.”
Her breath hitched, shoulders drawn tight.
“I was ready,” she snapped. “I knew the Codex backwards. I trained in blood rites before I could ride a damn bike—”
“You were born first,” I said. “But not chosen.”
Behind me, Trace’s tattoo shimmered gold—then Alden’s.
The house felt it. So did we.
My father looked between them, then me. “You need to go. All of you. Now. The Veil won’t stop here.”
Zeke moved forward. “They’ll send others.”
“Let them,” Rhett muttered. “Let them try.”
“You’re not safe here,” my father repeated. “And neither are the ones bonded to you.”
“I’m not leaving just because Lena feels robbed,” I said.
Brielle’s voice slid through the air like a knife. “You think you can outrun a blood war? You think the Knot won’t finish what it started?”
“It already started,” I said, gaze locked on her. “And I’m not Elira.”
That made both of them pause.
“I’m going to figure out how to keep the bond,” I continued. “And I’m going to rule. As heir.”
“You think you’re rewriting fate?” Lena spat.
“No,” I said. “I’m just not afraid of it.”
Then I turned, the bond burning steady in my spine.
We walked toward the manor’s doors—Trace and Alden behind me like sentinels, the others flanking wide. Zeke didn’t take his hand off his gun.
And when the doors groaned closed behind us, Thirelin didn’t fight it. It let us go.
Because it knew we’d be back.
We weren’t running.
We were rising.