Scarlett #3
City lights streak across the windows as Noah drives, jaw locked so tight the muscle ticks. His knuckles are white on the steering wheel, the leather groaning under the pressure of his grip. The engine hums low, smooth, expensive, but the tension in the car is anything but polished.
I stare out at the blur of buildings, trying to breathe, trying not to think of the mirror, of Kai’s voice curling around my ear like smoke.
Noah finally speaks. “Don’t say a word,” he bites out.
I wasn’t planning to.
He slams the indicator on, turning too sharply into our street, tyres whispering against asphalt. The house looms ahead, all glass and clean lines and curated perfection—a museum where feelings go to die.
As soon as the car stops, Noah’s out, door slamming with a force that makes the windows tremble. I follow slower, the cold air hitting my skin like punishment, heels clicking sharply on the stone path as I trail him into the house.
The door shuts behind us with a heavy finality.
Noah spins.
“You think you can humiliate me in front of donors?”
His voice is low. Controlled. But his eyes are wildfire.
“You raised your voice at me,” I snap back.
“You provoked me.”
“You embarrassed yourself.”
His nostrils flare. “Say that again.”
I do.
“You. Embarrassed. Yourself.”
He steps forward so fast I stumble back, my shoulder hitting the wall. His palm lands beside my head, caging me in, breath brushing my cheek, hot and furious.
“I am the only man keeping your life together,” Noah growls. “Do you understand that?”
“My life is fine,” I lie.
His laugh is sharp, humourless. “You can’t even keep your hands steady. I watched you all night—flinching at shadows, searching the room like prey.”
“I told you I’m fine—”
“Stop.”
He pins me with his stare.
“Don’t say that to me again.”
My pulse pounds in my throat.
“You don’t get to dictate how I feel,” I say through clenched teeth.
“You don’t get to drag ghosts into this house,” he fires back.
Something cracks in me.
“You want the truth?” I whisper. “You want honesty? I’m here. I come home every night. I sleep in your bed. I wear your fucking ring. Isn’t that enough for you?”
“No,” Noah says instantly. “It’s not enough. Not when half your mind is still with him.” His voice breaks—not weak, but furious, like I’ve insulted him at the cellular level. “I told you,” he says, stepping closer, chest brushing mine, “I won’t compete.”
“I never asked you to.”
“No,” he bites out. “You just expect me to ignore it.”
I shove his chest—not hard, but hard enough.
“Is that what you think? That I want this? That I want to feel like I’m losing my mind?”
“You are losing your mind,” he snarls. “And it’s because of him.”
Time stops.
Something inside me twists—old, buried, sharp.
“No,” I whisper. “It’s because of you.”
The words hit him like a slap.
His jaw flexes. His chest rises sharply. His hand curls against the wall beside my head, fingers trembling with restrained anger.
Then he steps back.
Just one step.
Enough to make the air between us volatile.
“You’re done arguing,” Noah says. “Go upstairs.”
“No.”
His eyes go cold. “Scarlett.”
“I said no.”
The silence after that is thick. Dangerous. Electric.
He moves first—slow, like a predator deciding which part of you to bite.
“I will not watch you fall apart over a man who should’ve stayed locked up,” he says quietly. “I won’t.”
“I’m not falling apart,” I whisper.
But my voice betrays me.
Noah hears it.
He always hears it.
“That’s the problem,” he says. “You think you’re holding yourself together, but I see the cracks.
” He steps closer again. “You smell like fear tonight,” he murmurs, brushing a strand of hair from my face.
“You came home shaking. You looked through me all night like you were waiting for someone else to show up.”
I swallow hard.
Noah’s voice drops lower.
“It wasn’t him.”
He’s right.
It was the version of Kai that lives in my head, the ghost I can’t kill, the shadow that grows every time I try to forget.
Noah sees the flicker in my eyes.
“That’s it,” he whispers. “That’s the look.”
His hand slides up my arm, slow, possessive. “The look that says he still has you.”
I pull away.
He grabs my wrist—not painfully, but firmly enough that I feel it everywhere.
“We are not done talking,” he says.
“I am.”
“No.” His voice is quiet. Deadly. “You don’t walk away from me when you’re like this.”
I wrench my arm free.
“You don’t get to decide that.”
Noah’s chest rises, falls—once, twice—with the kind of restraint that looks like it hurts. His voice turns cold.
“Go upstairs,” he repeats. “Before I say something I can’t take back.”
I stand there.
Frozen.
Shaking.
Breathing too fast.
He waits.
And the worst part?
I’m not scared of Noah.
I’m scared of what happens if I stay.
So I turn.
And walk up the stairs.
Each step creaks under the weight of something inevitable, something violent, something that feels like the beginning of an unraveling I can’t stop.
Behind me, Noah doesn’t follow.
He just stands there.
Watching me with a fury that feels a lot like fear.
I slam the bedroom door behind me so hard the frame shudders.
The room is too quiet, too clean, too staged—like it’s mocking me with every perfect surface. I pace once, twice, the sound of my heels sharp against the hardwood, anger burning under my skin so hot I can barely breathe.
Everything I feel is wrong.
Everything I want is wrong.
Everything I remember is poison.
I dig my fingers into my hair, trying to pull myself back into my body, but the frustration won’t settle. It builds. It swells. It claws at my ribs until it feels like something inside me is going to snap straight through my chest.
The door handle clicks.
Noah steps inside.
He doesn’t knock. He doesn’t hesitate. He closes the door behind him with a quiet finality that shakes something loose in me.
His expression isn’t calm anymore.
It’s wrecked. Angry. Wild in a way he never lets himself be.
He stares at me—jaw tight, chest rising and falling too fast, blue eyes bright with something dangerous.
“Scarlett,” he says, voice rough.
The anger that’s been coiling inside me ignites like gasoline.
“Don’t,” I spit. “Do not start this again.”
“I’m not starting anything,” he snaps. “You are.”
“Me?” I laugh—sharp, hysterical. I point at him with a trembling hand. “You treated me like I was losing my sanity at that ballroom!”
“You are,” he fires back, stepping closer. “You think I don’t see it? You think I don’t see him in your eyes every time you get that faraway look? Every time you flinch? Every time you lie to me?”
“I’m lying?” My voice rises. “About what?”
He takes another step, heat radiating off him in waves. “About the way you feel. About what’s in your head. About who’s in your head.”
“Shut up.”
“No.”
“Shut. Up.”
I’m shaking—angry, exhausted, suffocating—and the room feels too small to hold it.
“Stop acting like you know everything about me!”
“I know enough,” he snarls.
“You know NOTHING!” I scream.
The words rip out of me—raw, furious, desperate.
Noah freezes.
The silence between us is thick, pulsing, electric.
Then something snaps in him.
He crosses the room in three steps, fast, reckless, grabbing my arm—not to hurt, not to control, but because he can’t not touch me. His chest crashes into mine, breath hot against my lips, fury and desire tangled into something combustible.
“Don’t talk to me like I’m your enemy,” he growls.
“You’re acting like one!”
“You’re driving me insane!”
“You’re suffocating me!”
He drops his head like I have broken something inside of him, something that can’t be repaired with pretty words. Fuck, fucking Kai. He’s not even here and yet he’s fucking everywhere.
Four years and I still feel like no time has passed at all, Noah is looking at me like I can be saved but I’m not so sure I can.
“Scarlett,” he breathes softly. “You said this is what you wanted, this life. Everything we have here. If you don’t want it—.”
I raise my head slowly and finally look at him, really look at him like I’m seeing him for the first time and I see the man who found me in the dark, rain splashing down body, a light in the dark when I ran from the blood and the horror that night.
“I do.” I whisper, I’m not sure if what I am telling him is the truth but Noah is safe, he loves me, this is better than nothing right?
His brows furrow as he looks at me, trying to assess if what I am saying is the truth and I hear him sigh as he closes the distance between us, his arms wrap around me and I nestle my face in the crook of his neck while his runs his fingers lightly up and down my back.
“Scarlett, what am I going to do with you.” Those words are the kindest I have heard all night and something breaks in my chest and pain erupts from my throat.
“Scarlett, baby.” I can’t look at him so I try burrow when tighter into his neck. “Scarlett, look at me.” I shake my head. “Scarlett,” he sighs.
I raise my head and look at him through misty eyes and feel the tears drip down my cheeks, his eyes soften and I hate the look of pity that shows on his face.
“I don’t like seeing you sad.”
“I’m not sad.” I try to lie.
He places two fingers gently beneath my chin and tips my face towards his, his lips crash against mine, forcing my lips to open. “Noah…I don’t—.”
His fingers graze my shoulders as he slides the straps of my dress down my arms. “Noah—no,” I gasp into his mouth.
“Shhhh baby, I am going to make it all better,” he whispers against my lips.
His hands move to my waist the silk of the dress bunched into his fists as he walks me backwards towards the bed. “Noah.” I plead.
I feel his hands slide up my thighs, curving them against my ass and lifting me in the air, I should stop him, I should stop this. This isn’t what I need, but I also don’t know what I need…Kai.
I shake my head hoping his name will drop out of my head but it won’t it plays on repeat.