96. Scarlett
Scarlett
S omething was off.
It wasn’t the sky—though the clouds looked darker than they had this morning. It wasn’t the waves crashing harder against the rocks near the far side of the island. It was a feeling. Under my skin. Low in my spine.
Like something was watching.
I stood at the edge of the patio outside my villa, eyes scanning the tree line.
“You good?” Kane’s voice pulled me back.
I nodded. “Yeah.”
“You’re lying,” he said, stepping beside me. “You do that when your voice goes all flat like that.”
I cracked a smile. Barely. “Something feels... wrong.”
Kane looked around. “Zeke’s doing another sweep. Said he saw something weird near the west edge. Probably just a bird.”
It wasn’t a bird.
My gut knew it.
“I’m gonna walk the perimeter,” I said.
Kane frowned. “Zeke won’t like that.”
“Zeke can deal.”
Kane watched me for a second, then nodded once. “Take your knife.”
I already had it.
***
The jungle was quieter than usual. No birdsong. No wind. Just heat and shadows.
I walked. Slow. Controlled.
Twigs cracked beneath me, louder than they should’ve been.
Then—movement.
I turned fast. Knife up.
Nothing.
Just trees.
But I wasn’t wrong.
Someone had been there.
Or still was.
I stayed still for a long minute. Listening. Feeling.
Nothing.
But the air crackled. Like the beginning of a storm. Like the breath before something shattered.
I backed out slowly. One step at a time.
And I didn’t stop watching my back until I reached the villa.
A scream rang out.
Then glass shattering.
The window blown inward—too fast, too sharp to be anything but deliberate.
And then everything went to hell.
Kane yelled—Zeke was already moving. Rhett’s voice came behind the wall, low and clipped, calling out codes I didn’t understand.
Trace barreled out the door, gun drawn.
“Scarlett,” he barked. “Down.”
I dropped. Hit the deck as something whizzed over my head.
A bullet.
Holy shit.
Trace lunged in front of me, shielded me with his whole body. One arm shot out, pinning me behind him, the other gripping my arm so tight it almost bruised.
“Stay down,” he growled. “I swear to god, if you move—”
“I’m not going anywhere,” I whispered.
Gunfire echoed off the walls, Zeke’s voice cutting through it all—calm, deadly. “One in the trees. Two at the north edge. I’ve got one.”
I peeked out.
A figure moved through the shadows—dark clothes, masked face. A veiled eye painted in red on their shoulder.
Red Veil.
They’d found us.
I reached for my knife, heart pounding. But Trace shoved me back.
“No,” he snapped. “You don’t touch this. Not yet.”
A shot cracked.
Someone grunted.
“Rhett’s hit!” Kane’s voice held fear.
My hand flew to my mouth. Rhett. No.
Not him. Not now. The thought of him bleeding out somewhere while the world burned—it clawed at my ribs, fast and vicious.
I stood up before Trace could stop me. “Where?”
He caught my wrist. “Don’t.”
“You can’t protect me from everything.”
“I’m fucking trying to!”
The look in his eyes—terror, fury, love—knocked the air out of my lungs.
Alden appeared at my side, blood on his shoulder, eyes wild. “Rhett’s stable. Bastard winged him.”
Scarlett. Focus.
I pulled free from Trace and moved with them—low, fast. Heart a drumbeat. Every step a choice.
Zeke took one down with a clean headshot.
Trace caught another before they breached the deck.
Gun raised. Deadly calm.
One shot. Clean. The man crumpled at my feet.
Trace stepped over the body, chest rising fast, blood on his hands. His voice was low and lethal.
“Touch her, and I’ll put every fucking one of you in the ground.”
I froze. My heart thrashed in my chest.
Then Alden was there—shoulder bleeding, shirt torn, eyes wild. He didn’t say a word. Just shoved the next one back, hard, slammed his elbow into the guy’s face and didn’t flinch at the crunch.
He didn’t look at me. He didn’t have to.
I could feel it.The rage in both of them.The line that had been crossed.And what they were willing to do now that it had.
Alden stayed at my back, always between me and the threat.
It lasted ten minutes.
Maybe less.
But it felt like forever.
When it was over, I was breathless. Knees scraped. Trace’s hand still wrapped around my wrist like he couldn’t let go.
“You okay?” he asked, voice raw.
I gave a shallow nod, lungs still dragging in ragged air.
The bracelet pressed cold into my wrist—silent, knowing.
Something inside me had tilted.
Not fear. Not anymore.
Just the quiet pull of inevitability. Of becoming.