Noah takes my hand as we walk into the villa.
His grip is too tight.
My pulse is too loud.
Inside, the air smells of jasmine, salt, expensive candles, and something sharper — something metallic.
Fear, maybe.
Noah doesn’t let go of my hand.
Not even when he steps in front of me, turning, blocking the panoramic view of the ocean like he wants to make sure the only thing I can see is him.
“Why did you lie to me?”
He asks it like a husband asking why dinner is late.
Soft voice.
Controlled tone.
Violence held in a velvet glove.
“I didn’t lie,” I say, voice cracking on the second word.
His gaze drops to my chest.
To the locket.
To the chain Kai clasped around my body.
His fingers lift it.
Slow.
Gentle.
Cruel.
“Scarlett,” he says quietly, “this is not from the house.”
I shake my head.
“N-Noah, I don’t know who?—”
His voice snaps across the room like a whip. “Don’t insult me.”
The locket swings between us, catching the light, flashing gold and threat.
My pulse stutters.
Noah steps closer.
I step back.
He steps again.
I hit the stone wall.
