84. Scarlett
Scarlett
T race turned first, slowly. His hand curling tighter against the porch railing, looking out onto the turquoise water.
Alden stood near the edge of the steps, arms crossed, shoulders squared as if he was bracing for impact.
Zeke started pacing. Back and forth in a straight line, mug in one hand, fury written in every step. Controlled. Calculated. Until he wasn’t. He stopped short and turned to Trace.
“You weren’t supposed to touch her like that.”
I stepped forward. “Touch me?” I snapped. “I’m not some sacred fucking artifact. I chose them”
Trace flinched, but I didn’t give him time to respond.
“You’ve all been hiding something,” I said.
“And I was fine pretending it was just Hollow Order secret code-of-silence bullshit. But whatever the hell happened last night.” I glanced down at my wrist, lifting it just enough to show the silver band.
“This hasn’t stopped buzzing. What the hell is it? Some sort of tracking device?”
Zeke’s gaze flicked to it. He didn’t answer right away—just paced once, then stopped like the words tasted sour in his mouth.
“It just reacts to it. You could throw it in the damn ocean and you’d still feel them,” he said flatly.
I blinked. “I’m sorry—what?”
The screen door creaked behind me.
Rhett stepped out, running a hand through his mess of curls. No grin. No smartass remark.
“It’s not in the metal, Scar,” Rhett added, voice lower now, no trace of teasing. “It’s in you.”
Alden finally moved, slow and heavy as he stepped forward. His gaze flicked to my bracelet before settling on me.
He looked at me. Then at the others. “Maybe we should start from the beginning.”
I crossed my arms. “Please do. Because right now it sounds like we’re talking about some kind of sex curse.”
Zeke huffed out a breath but didn’t argue.
“We’ve felt it for years,” Alden said, voice even. “Low burn. Always there. Especially when we—” He stopped himself. “—when things got intense.”
Trace ran a hand through his hair, fingers shaking. “We didn’t think it was real.”
I stared at him, then Zeke, then Trace and Rhett like they’d lost their minds. “I’m sorry—are you saying this is real? Like… actual magic?” I laughed once, sharp and humorless. “What's next? We’re doing blood rituals and glowing tattoos now?”
No one answered.
Zeke exhaled hard and ran his hand down his face. “It’s a bond.”
I blinked. “A what.”
“You heard him,” Alden said quietly. “It’s old. Rare. Not supposed to happen like this. Not between three people.”
His shoulders stiffened, but he didn’t turn.
“You’re serious?” A hollow laugh scraped out of me. “You want to throw in a prophecy while were at it?”
I stepped closer, porch boards groaning beneath my feet. The bay shimmered just beyond the railing—quiet and endless. I contemplated diving in headfirst. Letting the salt water swallow me whole. Anything would make more sense than this.
Still, no one spoke.
Until Zeke muttered, “It wasn’t supposed to seal. They knew the risks.”
The words landed like a slap.
My heart skidded. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
He finally turned—face unreadable, mouth a hard line. “It’s not personal.”
“You sure about that?”
“I’m just saying,” he said, low and restrained. “This kind of bond doesn’t just happen. It’s not random. It’s ancient. Tied to bloodlines, legacies, choices made a long time ago.”
I turned back toward them, every breath shaky and furious. “So what—you’ve all just known? Known something was wrong with me this whole time and didn’t say a word?”
“It’s not wrong,” Alden said, stepping closer. “It’s powerful.”
“But dangerous,” Zeke added, sharp.
I stared at them. “You bonded to me—and now you’re saying I’m dangerous?”
Trace stepped forward, slow. “We didn’t know it would be real. We felt things—we thought it was nothing. Thought it would pass. The mark burned, sure. During sex it—” He broke off, looking away.
Zeke dragged his hand down his face again. “There was an agreement. You could flirt. Feel. Want. But you weren’t supposed to seal it.”
My stomach flipped. “Seal it?”
No one answered.
I folded my arms. “You’re going to need to do a hell of a lot better than this. Because if I’m the one you weren’t supposed to bond with—then what exactly was I supposed to be?”
I looked over to see Kane stepping onto the porch.
I blinked. “Nice of you to finally join us. Maybe you can explain what the fuck is going on?”
He didn’t answer—just moved to the empty spot beside me and lowered himself onto the railing, elbows braced on his knees, gaze fixed on the horizon like it held something he wasn’t ready to say.
“You think I’m just supposed to believe this?” I asked, voice tight. “That I’m some cursed connection? That I sealed something ancient by—what—sleeping with them?”
Kane didn’t look at me, but his voice was steady. “You think I don’t want to pretend it’s bullshit too? But I watched the way they came back in this morning. You weren’t just another girl, Scar. You never were.”
Zeke stepped forward, eyes locked with mine, tone flatter than usual. “You really don’t remember anything. From before?”
“From before what?” I mumbled.
“From before. Before the lake house. Before us.”
I held his stare. “I was a kid.”
He nodded once, slow. “Yeah. And then suddenly you weren’t.”
Alden shifted beside him, touching my shoulder. “Your mom kept you hidden. Off-grid. We didn’t know where you were for years. None of us did.”
I glanced between them. “What does that have to do with now?”
Trace stepped forward. Closer than the others. His voice low. “Everything, Scar”
Alden rubbed the back of his neck, glancing toward the steps. “We didn’t find you until junior year. Some glitch in the Order’s tracking flagged your school enrollment. New ID. New location. It hit the system and lit everything up.”
My chest twisted. “What system?”
Zeke answered without pause. “The Order’s.”
“Zeke kept tabs,” Rhett said, softer now. “He always had access. We just didn’t know what the hell he was watching for until you showed up.”
I turned toward Zeke, who hadn’t moved. Still pacing slow, steady lines across the porch like the boards were counting each step. “You’ve been watching me?”
“Not just me,” he said. “The higher-ups flagged your bloodline before you were born. Once you disappeared, it became my job to keep a loose thread on anything that might lead back to you, and when your name surfaced—it flagged everything.”
I turned toward Trace. “And you?”
“I was sent to you,” he said. “They had me transfer to your state that spring, right before your graduation. Told me to get close. Watch.”
My stomach dropped.
“I didn’t know it was you. Not until after,” he continued. “After we met. After the lake.”
Rhett pushed off the post. “We didn’t know the truth either. We were just dumb kids playing at loyalty.”
“And when did it stop being pretend?” I asked.
Trace paced back and forth. “The second you looked at me and I forgot every reason not to want you.”
My throat tightened, but I didn’t speak. Couldn’t.
Alden stepped forward. “We didn’t have answers. Only instincts. And every single one of mine pointed to you.”
Zeke shook his head once. “You were supposed to be protected. Observed. Not touched.”
I took a step toward him. “Then why did you let them stay?”
“Because even I couldn’t pull them away.”
He looked at me then—really looked—and there was something older in his eyes. Not anger. Something heavier.
My head was spinning, but the worst part was—deep down, none of it shocked me. Not really. It was like my bones had been humming the truth for years. And now that they were finally saying it out loud, I couldn’t stop shaking.
“You weren’t supposed to exist,” Zeke said again.
I stared at him. “What does that even mean?”
Trace shifted closer. His hand brushed mine, like he didn’t mean to—like he couldn’t help it. “Because you weren’t just anyone,” he said. “You’re—”
“Don’t,” Zeke warned, but Alden cut him off.
“She deserves the truth.”
Alden’s voice didn’t waver. “Scar… you’re not just bonded to us. You’re not just some accidental thread in all of this. You’re the heir.”
The word landed like a punch.
I laughed—because what the hell else could I do? “Heir to what? A secret boys club with tattoos and violence?”
But no one laughed with me.
“You’re the last bloodline of the Red Veil,” Rhett said quietly. “The one that vanished after the breach. Your mom ran—with you.”
I opened my mouth. Closed it again. My skin went cold.
“She said he was dead,” I whispered.
Zeke looked at me, face unreadable. “She lied.”
I stepped back, bracelet humming like a live wire. “So what—this is some twisted prophecy? My father was your enemy, and now I’m just what—your little redemption arc?”
“No,” Trace said, voice rough. “You’re everything they feared. The rightful heir of the wrong side.”
My thoughts scrambled. A lifetime of quiet lies, fractured memories, missing pieces that never fit. The way my mom always kept the blinds drawn. The way she never talked about where we came from. The way she used to say, some bloodlines carry fire, and fire always finds its way out.
“She wanted to keep you safe,” Alden said. “But blood like yours doesn’t stay hidden forever.”
“I don’t want it,” I choked. “Whatever this is. This legacy.”
Trace’s voice dropped. “It’s not about what you want anymore, Sunshine. It’s in you.”
And that was the problem.
Because I could feel it now. Under my skin. In the weight of their stares. In the way the wind shifted like it knew something was coming.
“I’m not your heir,” I said. “I’m not anyone’s fucking heir.”
No one argued.
Because even they didn’t believe it.
I looked at each of them, blood roaring in my ears.
“So let me get this straight,” I said slowly, my voice low, steady. “I’m the heir of your enemy. And yet somehow, I’m bonded to two of you. Opposing sides. Opposing bloodlines. Bonded.”
Zeke didn’t answer. His shoulders were squared.
“I’m waiting,” I said.
Trace’s mouth opened—then closed again.
It was Zeke who spoke first. “I don’t know.”
I stared at him. “What do you mean you don’t know?”
“I mean we’ve never seen it. Not in real time. The last documented case was in a Codex so old it’s falling apart in the archive vault. Most people think it was a mistranslation.”
Rhett shifted, arms crossed loosely over his chest. “It’s not a mistranslation anymore.”
I turned back to Zeke. “What did it say? That Codex.”
He ran a hand over his mouth, slow and deliberate. “That it only happens once in a generation—if that. And that when it does, it usually means the end of something.”
Trace moved closer. “You think we caused some kind of collapse?”
Zeke’s voice was low. “I think the collapse was already coming. This just sped it up.”
I felt the pressure of the bracelet again—low, constant.
“And the heir part?” I said. “You’ve known?”
Alden’s voice was quiet. “We suspected.”
“That’s not the same as knowing.”
“No,” Zeke said. “It’s not. But it was enough to make you off-limits.”
“Off-limits,” I repeated. “So what—you were gonna watch me from afar while I turned into what? A threat? A weapon?”
Trace shook his head. “You were never a threat.”
“Then why the hell am I dangerous now?”
Zeke’s mouth was a line. “Because now you’re tied to both sides. And nobody knows what the hell that means.”
I took a step back, breath catching. “Then figure it the fuck out.”
Zeke met my gaze, steady and grim. “I will.”
“You better,” I said. “Because if I’m bonded to both of them, and you’re saying I was never supposed to be born—then we’ve already crossed the line, haven’t we?”
Zeke didn’t respond.
And for the first time since stepping outside, no one interrupted.
I nodded once. “Then let’s stop pretending anyone’s in control of this anymore.”
“I’ve seen references,” he said. “Buried in the old Codex. The last recorded triple bond was centuries ago. A myth more than fact. No one’s seen it in real time. Not until now.”
Rhett muttered something under his breath and looked away.
Trace’s hand hovered near mine again, almost touching. “It wasn’t supposed to happen like this,” he said. “We thought we could stop it. Or maybe... deny it.”
“And now?”
Now it was real.
Now it was mine.