Scarlett #2
My fingers twist together in my lap, digging into my own skin until I draw blood. I don’t realise I’m holding my breath until my chest starts to ache, my lungs screaming for air that feels like wet wool.
“Relax,” he says, not looking at me. His voice is a flatline. “You trust me.”
It isn’t a question. It’s a command to surrender.
The car slows near a clearing carved out of the jungle, crude and uneven, like someone forced the land to make room rather than asking.
A handful of stone steps lead upward, half-consumed by moss.
At the top sits a structure that doesn’t belong to the island’s glossy brochures—old stone, darkened with age and humidity, vines creeping over the walls like veins on a dying man.
“What is this?” I ask, my voice trembling.
Noah cuts the engine. The silence that follows is deafening, filled only by the ticking of the cooling metal.
“History,” he replies. “The kind they don’t put in the fucking brochures.”
He gets out first, rounding the car to open my door. His hand closes around my wrist before I can step away on my own, fingers firm, grounding, unmistakably possessive. He isn’t holding me; he’s shackling me. The jungle hums around us—low, constant, like a warning I don’t know how to interpret.
Inside, the air is cooler.
Thick.
Heavy with incense, damp stone, and the unmistakable, iron-sweet smell of old blood.
The structure is some kind of old chapel—or temple.
It’s hard to tell. The roof arches overhead, cracked but intact, sunlight spilling through narrow slits high above like glowing ribs.
Symbols are carved into the walls, worn smooth by time and hands and desperate belief.
Some look religious. Some look… violent.
Some look like they were carved by people who had forgotten what mercy was.
I swallow, my throat feeling like it’s lined with sandpaper.
“People used to come here to make promises,” Noah says, guiding me forward. His voice echoes, bouncing off the stone like a ghost. “Vows. Deals. Sacrifices.”
I stiffen, my heart hammering against my ribs.
“What kind of sacrifices?”
His thumb presses into my wrist, right over the pulse, just enough to remind me he’s there. Just enough to feel my life jumping under his skin.
“Depends what they wanted badly enough. Usually, it required something that couldn’t be taken back. Something that bled.”
The words curl around my spine like smoke.
I try not to think about Kai. I fail. I fail so fucking hard.
This place feels like him—old, dangerous, steeped in something feral that doesn’t care about legality or ceremony.
I can almost see him standing in the shadows, his hands in his pockets, his mouth curved in that knowing, lethal half-smile, watching Noah walk me deeper inside like he’s already decided how many pieces he’s going to cut my fiancé into.
Noah stops in front of a stone altar.
It’s stained.
Not freshly. Not obviously.
But darkened in places where something soaked in and never quite left. Deep, jagged grooves are worn into the edges—fingerprints of the desperate.
“This island believes in ownership,” he says quietly, his eyes going dark and hollow. “Not the kind you sign for. The kind you take. The kind you brand.”
I turn to him sharply, my breath hitching. “Why are you showing me this?”
His gaze drops to my mouth, and for a second, I see the monster behind the suit.
“To remind you,” he says, his voice a low, terrifying rasp, “that marriage isn’t just a contract. It’s a declaration. It’s a hand around the throat.”
His hand slides from my wrist to my waist, fingers spreading, anchoring me there. He pulls me flush against the stone of the altar. It’s ice-cold against my lower back. My body reacts before my mind does—tension flaring, breath hitching in a jagged sob.
I think of Kai’s hands.
Rougher. Meaner. Certain. Hands that would destroy me, but would never try to polish me.
The thought sends a shudder through me that I can’t hide. A spark of heat in this dead place.
Noah notices.
Of course he does. The bastard feels everything.
His eyes narrow just a fraction, a flash of pure, murderous jealousy crossing his face. “You’re distracted. You’re thinking of him.”
“I’m tired,” I say quickly, my voice cracking.
He studies me for a long moment, then he does it.
He pulls the knife he bought at the market from his pocket. The blade catches a sliver of jaundiced light. My heart stops. “Noah, what are you—”
He doesn’t look at me. He grabs my hand, his grip crushing, and before I can scream, he drags the tip of the blade across his own palm. The skin parts with a sickening, wet hiss. Red, hot blood wells up instantly, dripping onto the stone altar.
Then, he presses his bleeding palm against the front of my white silk dress, right over my heart.
“Mine,” he whispers, the word a blood-soaked vow. “By the old laws, Scarlett. You are mine until the earth takes us both. If I can’t have you, no one draws another breath.”
The stain spreads, warm and terrifyingly wet against my skin. I’m paralysed, staring at the red handprint on my chest, the mark of a madman.
“We’ll head back soon,” he says, his voice returning to that chillingly calm, polite tone as he wipes the blade on his trousers. “I just wanted you to understand something.”
“What?” I whisper, my voice barely a thread.
He leans in, his mouth close enough that I feel the heat of his breath, tasting of copper and cold intent.
“This island doesn’t let go of what it claims. And neither do I. If Kai comes for you, I’ll make you watch while I gut him on this very stone.”
The words land heavy and final, like dirt on a coffin.
As we walk back toward the car, the jungle seems louder. Closer. Screaming with the sound of a thousand hidden teeth. I swear I feel eyes on my back, feel the weight of something unseen moving parallel to us, just out of sight. A shadow that belongs to a man who doesn’t believe in altars.
By the time we drive away, my pulse is out of control, a frantic drum in my ears.
I press my forehead to the cool window, watching the trees blur past, and I don’t know which thought terrifies me more—That Noah is showing me exactly how far into the darkness he’s willing to go to keep me.
Or that somewhere in this island’s dark, breathing heart, Kai is watching that blood-stain on my dress… and he’s laughing.