“Who gave it to you?”
His voice is low.
Tight.
Controlled with effort.
He’s losing patience.
I close my eyes, because if I look at him, the truth will scream out of my bones.
“I don’t know,” I whisper.
He exhales, long and slow — and suddenly the softness vanishes.
His fingers wrap around my jaw.
Not gently.
Not this time.
He tilts my head up, forcing my gaze to his.
“Scarlett,” he says, “I will only ask one more time.”
My heart slams.
“Kai,” I breathe.
The name slips out like a wound splitting open.
Noah freezes.
Everything stills.
The world holds its breath.
Then—his expression changes.
Not rage.
Not shock.
Something darker.
A slow smile spreads across his lips — a predator recognising another in the jungle.
“So,” he murmurs, “that’s who you were screaming for in the woods.”
My blood runs cold.
My throat closes.
“Noah—”
He presses a finger to my lips. “Shh.” His eyes bore into mine. “You should have told me sooner, Scarlett.” His tone shifts — low, intimate, horrific. “Because now?” He leans closer, breath warm against my cheek. “I get to fix this.”
Fix.
