94. Scarlett
Scarlett
T race was still asleep.
Sprawled like a heathen across my bed, one arm flung over his eyes, the other tangled in my sheet like he belonged there.
I should’ve been exhausted. I was exhausted. But the second the sun cracked through the gauzy curtains, my mind flipped back on like a flipped breaker. Thoughts sparking. Blood humming. Skin still oversensitive.
The bond still burned under my skin. Not painful—just present. A low, simmering awareness I couldn’t switch off. Every time he shifted in his sleep, I felt it. Like a string pulled tight between us.
I slid out of bed, careful not to wake him, and padded toward the table where my phone was charging.
One percent.
Figures.
I sat cross-legged on the floor in his old t-shirt, waiting for the screen to come alive. When it did, my messages lit up—mostly missed ones from Sloane and Lena.
Shit.
I hadn’t texted them in… days?
I chewed my lip, staring at the blinking cursor. Then typed.
Scarlett:
sorry I’ve been MIA
a lot has happened
like maybe ancient curse level “a lot”
also maybe I slept with two of them
maybe at the same time
maybe I’m not even sorry
also I’m bonded??? whatever that means
I’ll call you soon unless I die first xoxo
The read receipts popped up almost instantly.
Sloane:
WHAT
Lena: EXCUSE ME MA’AM???
Sloane: you slept with WHO
Lena: BOTH???
Sloane: blink twice if you need rescue
Lena: you need to Facetime us right now
Sloane: you’re absolutely unwell and I love it for you
I snorted. Actually snorted.
It felt good. Too good.
I pulled my knees to my chest and typed back:
Scarlett: it’s worse than that
I think I actually like them
both of them
and I think I’m starting to like this place
I set my phone down and rested my forehead on my knees.
There was still so much I didn’t understand. About the bond. The Red Veil. The Hollow Order. Myself.
But for now, I’d let myself breathe. Laugh. Lean into the ridiculousness of it all.
One more minute, I told myself.
Then I’d find coffee.
The porch creaked under my feet as I stepped outside, sun already high and blistering across the villa roofs. My hair was wild, untamed, strung over one shoulder. Trace followed behind me, silent, loose-limbed from sleep—or whatever counted as rest after the way he ruined me in that tub.
The sun was too bright. The ocean, too loud. My thighs ached in that delicious, smug way that made me want to stretch like a cat and grin at everyone who looked my way.
The others were already out there—spread across the deck like this was just another morning.
Alden was drinking coffee, shirtless, all golden skin and easy indifference.
Rhett had toast hanging from his mouth, flipping through something on his phone.
Kane cracked a joke that made Zeke roll his eyes. Casual. Almost too casual.
“Morning,” I said, dragging out the word as I dropped into the seat next to Alden and stole the mug out of his hand.
“Morning,” Rhett echoed, not looking up. “Damn. You’re glowing.”
“I’d say thank you,” I muttered, sipping. “But I’m ninety percent sure that’s just leftover steam and sin.”
Trace sank down beside me, one leg kicked out lazily, brushing mine. He didn’t say anything. Just rested his arm behind me on the bench like I was his.
I reached for a piece of mango, still sticky from the heat, then dropped it onto my plate without eating. My voice was sweet—too sweet.
“So, which one of you has fucked Brielle?”
Forks stalled mid-air. A long pause stretched across the table like spilled gasoline.
Zeke didn’t move. Kane grinned like he’d just been handed front-row tickets to the downfall of the century. Alden blinked slowly. Rhett groaned into his toast. Trace... breathed.
“What?” I said, all innocent. “Is that off-limits now? Thought we were all about secrets and shared destinies and forbidden soul sex.”
Trace let out a low noise in his throat. “Scarlett.”
I kept going. “She shows up with her perfect face and her ancient knowledge and her I-know-where-you-sleep vibes, and I’m just supposed to be chill about it?”
“She’s not important,” Alden said, his voice rougher than usual.
“Didn’t ask if she was important,” I said, flicking a crumb off my thigh. “Asked if she was in your bed.”
Zeke cut in. “She played her part. That’s all you need to know.”
“I’ll decide what I need to know,” I said. “Thanks though.”
Trace’s voice was low and even. “It was never her.”
I met his eyes, something old and molten pooling in my chest. “You sure about that?”
He held my stare. “It’s you.”
My stomach dipped. My head swam.
“Good,” I said, setting the mug down. “Because if I’m going to survive this insanity, I need to know who’s screwed who.”
“You’re bold in the mornings,” Rhett said.
I popped a grape in my mouth. “I’m bold all the time. Mornings just make me funnier.”
Kane leaned toward Zeke, stage-whispering, “Ten bucks says she starts interviewing us.”
I stood, brushing invisible dust from my legs. “I don’t need to interview you. I already know.”
Zeke raised an eyebrow. “Do you?”
I gave him a smile that didn’t quite reach my eyes. “Not yet. But I will.”
Then I stepped off the porch.
The sun burned hotter. Something in my chest did, too.