Kai
The night tastes of petrol and iron. The engine roars beneath us; headlights slice through the dark streets, and I should be laughing with the others — caught in the reckless high of racing two cars neck-and-neck down the back roads.
But all I can think about is her.
Scarlett.
My little sister, who isn’t my sister.
Her legs curled on the sofa this morning, bare skin catching sunlight she didn’t deserve to show me.
‘Fuck, Kai, keep up!’ Jax’s voice cracks through the wind, leaning out of the passenger window of the car beside me, middle finger raised like a dare.
I slam my foot down harder, the engine screaming, tyres shrieking against the asphalt. The world blurs — reckless, stupid, perfect. Anything to stop the picture in my head of her mouth parting, wet and soft, when she caught me staring.
‘Jesus, you trying to kill us?’ one of the guys in the back seat yells, gripping the handle.
‘Shut the fuck up,’ I snap, not taking my eyes off the road. If I die, I die — at least I won’t have to taste the guilt any more.
I want her.
God, I want her worse than air.
I grip the wheel tighter, knuckles white, imagining instead the grip of her thighs clamping around my head — the mess I’d make of her if I ever let myself taste what’s mine.
We swerve too close to the other car, metal almost kissing metal, sparks flying in my chest. Jax is shouting something, laughter in it, chaos in it, but all I hear is her voice from earlier — Scarlett, spitting venom at me in the kitchen. Just a friend, Kai.
A friend touching what’s mine.
‘Pull the fuck over, you’re gonna flip us!’
I laugh — sharp and filthy — the sound ripping from me like I’m already gone. ‘Maybe I want to.’
The car jerks as I overtake them, engine howling, my pulse louder than the crowd of friends leaning out of windows, screaming, reckless. They think this is about the rush.
It’s not.
It’s about her.
Every time I slam my foot on the accelerator, it’s her face in my head. Every corner I take too sharp, it’s her body grinding down on mine in a dream I wake up hard from. Every risk, every bruise, every near miss — her fault.
If I kill myself out here, it’ll be because I can’t stop thinking about fucking my little sister.
The race ends in smoke and screeching brakes, the smell of burning rubber and hot metal thick in the night. Everyone’s shouting, laughing, high on the danger.
Jax slams his palm against my car bonnet. ‘That’s how you fucking do it!’
I climb out, chest heaving, sweat dripping down my back, and I smile at them — cold, feral — but inside, I’m burning alive.
No matter how many times I almost die, it’s not enough to kill the thought of her, and that’s why I was cold with her — because if I let myself be anything else, I’ll ruin us both.
The car still trembles beneath me, engine ticking down, heat bleeding through the metal. The night air is sharp, smoke and petrol hanging heavy, but all I can taste is her. Scarlett.
Jax is laughing somewhere off to the side, pounding the roof, telling me I nearly killed us all. I give him nothing — just a curl of my lip, a drag of smoke as I lean back against the seat. Let him think I don’t care. Let them all think I’m made of ice.
If I open my mouth, it won’t be jokes or banter spilling out. It’ll be her name.
I grip the wheel tighter, knuckles white, because every time I close my eyes I see her face the way she looked at me last night — hurt, ashamed, like I was poison. And maybe I am. Doesn’t matter. She still crawled into my lap, still ground herself raw against me, still sobbed my name like a prayer.
‘Cold bastard,’ one of them mutters, passing me another bottle. I take it, swallow hard — the burn cutting but never killing the ache.
They don’t know. They’ll never know.
That I’m not cold — I’m burning alive.
Every mile I just drove, every gear I slammed through, was to quiet the voice in my head. The one that whispers she’s mine. The one that tells me I’ll never let her go.
I feel it, even here, with the engine cooling and the night closing in — the drag of her nails down my back, the taste of her tears on my tongue, the way her broken little whisper it’s wrong only made me harder.
I take another drag, smoke curling from my lips, chest heaving.
I should be talking shit with them. I should be fucking numb.
Instead, I’m counting the minutes until I can go back to that house.
Back to her.
‘Jesus Christ, Kai,’ Jax mutters, stumbling out of his car, his voice cutting through the reek of burning rubber and fuel. ‘You trying to put us in the ground tonight?’
I drag hard on the cigarette, the smoke clawing down my throat, and shrug. ‘You kept up, didn’t you?’
‘That wasn’t keeping up; that was you losing your fucking mind.’ He’s laughing, but there’s an edge to it — a shake under it. He pushes his hair back, still wired from the race. ‘Thought you were supposed to be the one with control.’
‘Yeah,’ I exhale, leaning against the bonnet, pretending I don’t hear the way Scarlett’s voice is still inside my skull — It doesn’t have to be like this. Pretending I don’t feel her nails still carved into my skin. ‘Guess you thought wrong.’
Rafe cracks open a beer and tosses me one. ‘Control’s overrated,’ he says, grin sharp. ‘Was fun watching you nearly take out that lorry.’
‘You think everything’s fun,’ Jax snaps at him, then turns back to me. ‘What’s your deal, man? You’re wound tighter than I’ve ever seen. You’re gonna end up dead or locked up if you keep this shit up.’
I take the beer, drain half of it in one swallow, let it burn down into the hollow that feels bigger every time I’m not with her. ‘Maybe that’s the point.’
Silence. Jax stares at me like I’ve just admitted to pulling the pin on a grenade and waiting for it to go off in my hands.
‘Don’t say shit like that,’ he mutters. ‘You’ve got responsibilities. Your mum, your dad, Scar—’
‘Don’t.’ My voice is a whip-crack, sharper than I mean it, but I don’t take it back. ‘Don’t say her name.’
Jax narrows his eyes. ‘So that’s what this is.’
I look away, jaw tight, smoke curling out between my teeth. ‘This is nothing.’
‘Nothing doesn’t make you drive like you’ve got a death wish,’ he fires back. ‘Nothing doesn’t make you snap when I say your sister’s name.’
‘She’s not…’ The word’s out before I can stop it. I swallow it down with the rest of the beer, crushing the can in my fist. ‘Drop it.’
Rafe whistles low, trying to cut the tension. ‘Guess the devil’s got you by the throat, huh?’
Yeah. And her name is Scarlett.
The bar reeks of sweat, beer and smoke — a low hum of voices mixing with the clink of glasses — but all I can taste is the bitter ash in my mouth. I drain half the whisky before I even sit, the burn doing nothing to cauterise the wound in my chest.
Jax is loud, laughing, slapping the table like the world’s a joke. Rafe’s already leaning back with a cigarette hanging off his lip, eyes cutting through the haze — sharp enough to know I’m not laughing.
‘You should’ve seen your face when that turn nearly ate you alive,’ Jax smirks, pushing his glass towards me. ‘Thought we’d be scraping you off the road.’
I light my own cigarette, take a drag, let the smoke choke me before I answer. ‘Would’ve been cleaner that way.’
Jax whistles low, but Rafe’s gaze doesn’t flinch. He just studies me like he knows what name is sitting on the edge of my tongue.
‘You’re getting sloppy, brother,’ Rafe says — voice calm, deadly. ‘Racing like you’ve got a death wish. What’s her name?’
I slam my glass down harder than I mean to, whisky splashing over my fingers. ‘Drop it.’
Jax grins wide, leaning in like a dog that smells blood. ‘Scarlett,’ he says, dragging out every letter just to see me twitch. ‘Little sister got you tied in knots?’
The chair screeches as I stand, the cigarette shaking between my fingers. My knuckles ache from how hard I’m clenching them, and the only thing stopping me from putting Jax through the table is Rafe’s voice — low and steady.
‘Sit down, Kai. Don’t give him the satisfaction.’
My chest heaves, rage and whisky flooding me, but I drop back into the chair anyway, dragging smoke into my lungs until it burns.
Jax laughs again, like he hasn’t just fed petrol to a fire I can’t put out.
All I can think about is her — Scarlett — her eyes, her mouth, her broken voice whispering my name like a curse.
The bar stinks of smoke, whisky and sweat, and I’m already three shots past the point of giving a fuck. Rafe slams his glass down, grinning wide, eyes too bright, while Jax leans back in his chair like he owns the whole rotten place.
‘Game time,’ Rafe says, teeth flashing. ‘Truth or drink.’
Jax smirks, lazy and cruel. ‘You know how this goes, brother. No answers, you drink. Simple.’
‘Fine.’ My voice comes out colder than I mean it to, but the burn in my chest feels good — numbing. ‘Ask.’
Rafe points at Jax first. ‘Truth: what’s the dirtiest thing you’ve ever done?’
Jax grins, licking the rim of his glass before answering. ‘Her mum. On the kitchen counter. While her dad was asleep upstairs.’
Rafe howls, almost choking on his drink, while I just stare, stone-cold. Doesn’t faze me. Doesn’t touch me.
Then Jax turns his eyes on me — that smug, testing look. ‘Alright, Kai. Your turn. Truth: why’d you really rip that arsehole apart at Hell? Over Scarlett?’
Scarlett.
Her name in his mouth makes my jaw lock so hard I hear it crack.
‘Drink,’ Rafe says quickly, sensing the tension. ‘Just fucking drink.’
Jax doesn’t shut up. He leans closer, eyes narrowed. ‘What’s she to you, Kai? Little sister? Or something else?’
I grin then — dark, dangerous — the grin that makes people flinch before the blow lands. ‘Fine. You want the truth?’ I slam my glass down so hard the liquid splashes. ‘I’d burn this whole fucking town down before I let another man touch her. That’s what brothers do.’
Silence.
Rafe stares. Jax smirks like he’s won.