Chapter 10 Kai
Kai
The music hits me first — loud, filthy bass rattling the walls, the kind that makes your teeth ache.
The stink of beer, sweat, and smoke clings to the air, thick enough to choke on.
Hell is exactly what the name promises — dark corners, cheap neon, and too many men who don’t know when to keep their fucking hands to themselves.
And in the middle of it, under the pulsing red light, is Scarlett.
My Scarlett.
That black dress painted to her skin, her hair wild as she moves, her mouth parted on a laugh that doesn’t belong to him — because his hands are on her arse.
His mouth is on her neck. He’s pressed so close I can see the sweat glistening down his temple, his lips dragging along skin that no one should ever touch but me.
My vision tunnels. Red. Pure red.
I push through the crowd, shoulders slamming bodies out of my way, heads snapping as I pass. Someone mutters my name — Kai Everly — and the tone changes fast, voices dropping, people moving aside. They know better than to stand in my way.
Scarlett doesn’t see me yet. She’s too busy trying to pretend she’s not cornered, not caught, her hands hovering like she can’t decide whether to push him off or let it happen — but I see it.
I see the way her smile falters when his hand tightens, when his mouth drags lower, when she stiffens under his grip.
That’s all it takes.
The switch flips.
I see red and nothing else.
I don’t think. I don’t wait.
I’m on him in an instant, my hand fisting in the back of his shirt, yanking him off her so hard he stumbles, choking on his own breath.
Scarlett gasps, her body jerking back as the man’s grip tears away from her, his head snapping towards me in confusion that lasts less than a heartbeat — because then my fist crashes into his face.
Bone cracks under my knuckles, fresh blood spraying across my skin. He reels back, swearing, clutching at his nose, but I don’t let him fall. I grab him by the throat, slamming him into the wall hard enough to rattle the frames hanging there.
‘You think you can put your hands on her?’ I snarl, spit flying, my voice low and lethal. ‘You think you can touch what isn’t yours?’
He chokes, sputtering, eyes wide. ‘I—I didn’t—’
My fist drives into his gut, folding him in half, his breath exploding from his lungs in a strangled wheeze. The crowd parts around us, the music still pounding, but the focus is all here — all on me. On Scarlett. On him.
I slam him again, harder, his skull cracking against the wall. My vision is fire, my body trembling with rage, and all I can hear is Scarlett’s laugh in my head, her red lips parted, his hands on her arse.
‘Touch her again,’ I growl, my knuckles digging into his jaw, ‘and I’ll break every fucking bone in your body.’
The man gags, nodding frantically, his hands clawing at mine.
I let him drop — crumpled and gasping on the sticky floor, blood pouring down his face. My chest heaves, fists shaking, knuckles split open and raw. Then I turn.
Scarlett is standing frozen a few feet away, eyes wide, lips parted, her chest rising fast under that black dress. Fear. Shock. Something else.
The crowd stares, silent, waiting — but all I see is her.
Scarlett’s frozen, her lips parted, her eyes locked on me like she doesn’t know whether to run or scream. The bass still pounds; the stink of blood and beer hangs heavy.
I don’t give her a choice.
I stride forward, boots heavy on the sticky floor, grab her wrist in one hand, and haul her against me. She gasps, tries to twist away, but I’m done pretending she gets a say.
Before she can spit her venom, before she can claw at me like she did in the alley, I bend, hook an arm behind her thighs, and lift.
Scarlett yelps as I sling her over my shoulder, her dress riding dangerously high, her fists pounding against my back. ‘Put me down, Kai!’
Her voice cuts through the music — sharp, furious — but the crowd only watches in silence. Some smirk, some whisper, but no one moves to stop me.
My arm locks around her legs, holding her tight, her body pressed to mine as I stalk through the bar. Her hair spills down my back, her nails dig into my shirt, her heels kick uselessly against my chest.
‘You’re out of your fucking mind!’ she spits, voice muffled against my shoulder.
I don’t slow. Don’t speak. The exit’s ahead, the door swinging open as the night air spills in — cool and sharp against my burning skin.
Every step is a warning, every heartbeat a vow.
Let them all see.
Let them all remember.
Scarlett belongs to me.
The door bangs open as I shoulder through, Scarlett writhing against me like a wildcat. Her fists hammer at my back, her voice a snarl of curses that make a few smokers outside choke on their laughter. They see me, see her, see the fight — and no one dares step in. They just watch.
‘Put me down!’ she shrieks, kicking hard, her heel clipping my thigh. ‘You can’t—’
‘I can,’ I growl, my voice cutting through her fury, ‘and I will.’
I stalk across the car park, gravel crunching under my boots, the cold air slicing across my sweat-soaked skin. Scarlett twists hard, shoving at my back, but my arm only tightens around her thighs, locking her in place. She bucks once, twice, but I don’t stumble. I don’t even slow.
‘Let me go!’ she spits, her voice breaking now — desperate, furious.
I slap the car door open with one hand, bend, and lower her just enough to grab her wrists. She jerks free for half a second, trying to bolt, but I catch her by the waist, slam her back against the car, and pin her there with my body.
Her chest heaves, her eyes blaze blue fire, her hair wild around her face. She shoves at me, kicks, but I’m stronger — and she knows it. My hand closes around both her wrists, forcing them above her head against the metal, the other pressed to her hip to keep her still.
‘You’re not running from me, Scarlett,’ I rasp, breath hot, voice raw. ‘Not here. Not ever.’
Her mouth parts, her body trembling against mine, but she still spits the words like venom. ‘I hate you.’
I lean closer, my lips a breath from hers, my eyes burning into her. ‘Good. Hate me all you want. Just do it in my car.’
She thrashes, kicks, spits every curse she can find, but I don’t loosen my grip. I wrench the door open, shove her inside, and when she tries to lunge back out, I catch her jaw in one hand, push her back against the seat, and yank the belt across her chest.
The click of it locking in place is final. Binding.
Scarlett jerks against it, eyes wild, chest heaving, but the strap holds her tight.
I slam the door so hard the whole car rocks, her furious face flashing at me through the glass.
My hands are shaking, my pulse brutal, and I press my palms flat against the roof just to feel something solid under me.
Fuck.
The weight of her body still burns against mine — the way her thighs locked over my shoulder, the way her fists beat against me, the way she twisted and bucked like she’d rather die than let me carry her. And still — still — every second felt right. She fit there. It seemed she was made for it.
For me.
I drag a hand over my mouth, taste sweat and blood, and the thought of any other man laying hands on her makes my vision blur again. That arsehole in the bar touching her neck, putting his hands where mine belong — I should’ve finished him. I should’ve left him broken in the gutter.
My reflection stares back at me in the window — eyes too wild, jaw tight, a monster barely holding the leash.
Scarlett’s mine.
She can fight, she can spit, she can hate me until her throat bleeds — but her body told the truth the second I had her draped across me, and now she’s strapped in, locked down, going nowhere.
Exactly where she belongs.
I wrench the door open and drop into the driver’s seat, slamming it shut hard enough that the frame rattles. My hands grip the wheel until the leather creaks, my knuckles split and raw, blood smeared across them like proof of what I just did.
Scarlett’s breathing fast beside me, the seat belt holding her tight, her chest rising and falling under that black dress. Her eyes are wide, her lips parted, hair wild around her face. She looks like sin. She looks like mine — and I’m fucking furious.
Furious at her for walking into Hell.
Furious at him for touching her.
Furious with myself for not killing him where he stood.
The air inside the car is suffocating, heat rolling off both of us. My pulse hammers in my throat, rage burning so hot it tastes like metal on my tongue.
I drag a hand down my face, forcing my voice out through clenched teeth. ‘Do you have a death wish?’
She snaps back instantly, sharp, venomous. ‘Do you?’
Her defiance only feeds the fire. I slam my fist against the steering wheel, the horn blaring once before cutting off, and she flinches, pressing back into the seat — but her glare doesn’t waver.
I lean toward her, my jaw tight, every word a growl. ‘You think you can walk into a place like that dressed like this and not get eaten alive? You think I’ll just sit back while some bastard puts his hands on you?’
Her chin lifts, her voice trembling but steady enough to cut. ‘I didn’t ask you to save me.’
My laugh is low, dark, broken. ‘You didn’t have to.’
The wheel creaks under my grip again, my fury strangling me, but when I glance at her out of the corner of my eye — red lips, wild hair, chest still heaving — the rage knots with something worse. Something hungrier.
She doesn’t get it. She doesn’t understand.
I can’t let her go.
Not now. Not ever.