Her smile doesn’t waver, but her eyes flick briefly—briefly—past me, toward the shadowed edge of the resort. Toward the path that leads away from the party.
Like she’s checking something.
Or someone.
Noah’s hand closes fully around my wrist now, not gentle, not painful—just inevitable.
“Come on,” he says. “Let’s get you some rest.”
As he pulls me up, Vivian meets my gaze one last time.
Her lips barely move.
“Run,” she mouths.
My phone vibrates in my palm.
The party keeps laughing and suddenly I’m sure of one thing:
Vivian isn’t just warning me.
She’s counting down.
Scarlett
The door doesn’t close.
It slams.
The sound detonates through the suite, swallowing the ocean, the music, the illusion that the resort ever meant safety. Noah doesn’t let go of my wrist when we cross the threshold. If anything, his grip tightens—fingers locking like iron around bone.
“Let go,” I gasp, stumbling to keep up. “Noah—let go, you’re hurting me.”
He doesn’t slow.
He drags me across marble and silk and expensive quiet, straight into the bedroom, and then he spins, fast and violent, shoving me back against the door so hard the handle bites into my spine.
My breath punches out of me.
He’s close enough that I can smell the alcohol on his breath now. Close enough to see the vein pulsing at his temple.
“What were you and Viv talking about?” he snaps.
I shake my head, tears already blurring my vision. “Nothing. She was just?—”
His hand jerks, tightening. White-hot pain flares up my arm.
“Don’t fucking lie to me.”
“I’m not!” My voice breaks. “Noah, please—your hand?—”
He leans in, crowding me, his face inches from mine. The smile he wore downstairs is gone. This is something rawer. Sharper. Like a mask ripped off too fast.
“She had no business speaking to you,” he says. “So I’ll ask again. What. Were you. Talking about.”
Viv.
The name echoes in my head, strange and sharp. Viv. The same way Kai shortens my name. Scar.
