Scarlett #2
“I’m trying to help you,” he whispers. “I’m trying to understand what’s happening to you. But you’re shutting me out. Lying to me. Acting like someone else.”
I laugh again, quieter this time.
Not because it’s funny.
Because it hurts.
“Maybe someone else feels better,” I murmur.
He flinches.
The lights outside blur past as the car finally starts, rumbling to life. He peels out of the parking spot with too much force, tires screeching against wet asphalt.
“That’s not you,” he mutters. “You’re not this girl.”
“Maybe I’ve always been this girl,” I say, head tipping against the window, cold glass cooling my feverish skin. “You just loved the version that didn’t make a mess.”
“I love all of you,” he snaps.
“No,” I say softly. “You love the parts you can control.”
He doesn’t answer.
He drives faster.
The city lights smear into streaks of gold and neon.
Rain starts to mist the windshield.
My pulse hums under my skin.
My drunken thoughts tangle, twist, spill.
“You keep trying to fix me,” I whisper. “But you don’t even know what’s broken.”
His grip tightens on the wheel until his knuckles bleach white.
“I know enough.”
“No,” I say, almost laughing. “You know nothing.”
And his voice comes out low and deadly: “Then tell me, Scarlett. Tell me what’s wrong. Tell me what you’re hiding. Tell me who put that look in your eyes.”
I close my eyes.
The truth trembles on my tongue.
Kai.
Kai.
Kai.
But instead I say: “No one.”
He slams the brakes at a red light, and the whole car jolts as he turns to me with a furious, bewildered, disbelieving look.
“You’re lying,” he says. “And I’m going to find out why.”
I smile drunkenly, leaning my head back as the light turns green.
“You won’t.”
He accelerates, breath tight, jaw clenched hard enough to crack.
And the whole way home, the car is full of everything we’re not saying—anger, fear, jealousy, secrets
Kai.
Kai.
Kai.
—and the sound of Noah’s breathing getting louder as mine gets quieter.
The car barely stops before Noah slams his door so hard the echo rattles through the stone driveway like thunder.
Cold night air hits me in a slap as I stumble out, heels clacking unevenly against the ground. The mansion looms above us—perfect lines, perfect windows, perfect life—everything gleaming under moonlight like it’s judging me.
Good.
Let it judge me.
I’m drunk enough not to care.
Noah storms ahead, his shoulders rigid, his stride clipped and violent. He doesn’t look back to see if I’m following.
He knows I will.
He also knows I’m too dizzy to run.
I trip on the last step and catch myself on the railing, laughing loudly enough to slice the silence open.
“Oh relax,” I call after him. “You act like I set the place on fire.”
He whirls around so fast I almost lose my balance again.
“Are you fucking kidding me?”
His voice shakes.
With anger.
With something darker underneath.
“You humiliated me in front of half the damn city!”
I drag a hand through my hair, stumble forward.
“I humiliated myself,” I correct, grinning sloppily. “Keep your pronouns to yourself, baby.”
His nostrils flare.
He steps toward me.
Too fast.
Too controlled.
“You think this is funny?”
“Oh, it’s fucking hilarious,” I slur, waving my arm wide like a drunken ballerina. “The way you manhandled me out of there? Iconic. Truly. I bet the group chats are on fire.”
He grabs my wrist.
Not gentle.
Not violent.
Just… claiming.
“Do you have any idea how reckless you were?”
“I have every idea,” I sing, swaying toward him, “and I don’t care.”
He stares at me.
Something cracks behind his eyes.
“Let’s get inside.”
“I don’t wanna go inside.”
“Scarlett.”
“Noooah,” I mimic, voice high and mocking. “Say please.”
His jaw clenches so hard I hear it.
He drags me inside anyway.
The door slams behind us—the sound echoing through the foyer, bouncing off marble and glass and polished silence.
Inside, everything feels too big.
Too bright.
Too echoing.
Like the house is waiting for someone to scream.
Noah releases my wrist only to shove his hands through his hair, pacing.
“Jesus Christ, Scarlett. What the hell is happening to you?”
I lean against the hallway table, almost knocking over a vase worth more than my university degree.
“Maybe I’m done being your little princess,” I say with a mocking smile. “Maybe I’m bored.”
He stops pacing.
He stares at me like I just stabbed him.
“You’re drunk.”
“Very.”
“You’re being cruel.”
“I learned from the best.”
His eyes go cold.
“Sit,” he snaps, pointing toward the living room.
“Oh, fuck off,” I mutter, stumbling toward the sofa anyway. “You don’t get to order me—”
“Sit down, Scarlett.”
The command hits like a slap.
I drop into the cushions, breath uneven.
He disappears into the kitchen.
I scoff loudly, rolling my eyes so hard they practically scrape the ceiling.
“Don’t pout!” I shout after him. “It’s not attractive!”
No answer.
The house feels too quiet suddenly.
Too still.
My pulse stutters.
I push myself upright, trying to blink the blur out of my vision. Everything tilts. The room swims for a second—like my brain is lagging behind my body.
“Noah?” I call, trying to sound annoyed instead of uneasy. “What are you doing?”
He returns with a glass.
Crystal. Filled with something amber and glittering under the lights.
Whiskey.
His go-to.
He forces a soft tone that makes my skin crawl.
“You need to calm down, Scarlett. Please. Just drink this.”
He offers it out.
I take it automatically because my body is working on autopilot—obedient muscle memory drilled into me over years of curated perfection.
I raise it to my lips.
Noah watches me drink.
Too closely.
Too intensely.
His shoulders drop a fraction when the first swallow hits my tongue.
He looks relieved.
Relieved.
My stomach twists.
“What?” I laugh faintly. “You didn’t think I’d drink it?”
Noah exhales a slow, shaky breath, eyes flicking away from mine.
I freeze.
That’s when I see it.
Not a big movement.
Not dramatic.
Just…the faintest trace of powder still clinging to the lip of the glass.
A tiny chalky smear.
Barely visible.
But unmistakable.
My blood runs cold.
My heartbeat stutters.
I pull the glass back slowly, staring at the rim, at the faint white residue dissolving into the liquor.
I look at Noah.
Really look at him.
He’s standing too stiff.
Breathing too shallow.
Watching me with a hunger that isn’t lust.
Control.
Fear slides up my throat.
Then fury hits like a hammer.
“What did you put in this?”
My voice shakes.
Not from weakness.
From the effort not to explode.
He goes still.
Dead still.
“Scarlett—”
“How many times?” I demand, voice rising. “How many times have you done this?”
“I haven’t—”
“DON’T FUCKING LIE!”
My body surges upward but the room shifts violently and I stumble, gripping the sofa to stay upright.
He steps toward me, hands up like I’m an animal that might bolt.
“Baby, you were out of control—”
“WHAT DID YOU GIVE ME?”
He flinches.
That’s all the answer I need.
Because my vision blurs at the edges.
My limbs feel heavy.
My tongue feels thick.
My heartbeat kicks too fast, then too slow, then too fast again.
“Noah…” My voice breaks—raw, furious, terrified. “What the fuck did you do to me?”
His face crumples with guilt and something colder—relief that he got it in me before I noticed.
“You needed calming down,” he whispers. “You were spiralling. You were going to hurt yourself. I just—” He swallows. “I just need to keep you safe.”
Safe.
Safe.
The word snaps something inside me.
“You drugged me,” I choke out. “You fucking drugged me.”
He reaches for me.
I stumble back.
The room tilts harder.
My breath shakes.
“Noah,” I gasp, “don’t touch me—”
“Scar—”
“DON’T TOUCH ME!”
My knees buckle.
He catches me before I hit the floor.
The world tilts again—spinning, stretching, warping around the edges.
I try to fight.
I try to pull away.
But my limbs won’t listen.
My voice fractures.
“How many times?” I whisper it now, breath hitching, vision flickering. “How many times—Noah, how many fucking times—”
He doesn’t answer.
Which means the truth is worse than the lie.
My eyes drift shut even as I claw them open.
The house blurs.
His face blurs.
My own thoughts blur.
Panic punches through my chest.
“Kai,” slips out of my mouth without permission.
Noah freezes.
The world goes black.
And I fall.