“You’re shaking, Scarlett,” he mocks, his voice a low-frequency vibration that makes the marrow in my bones ache. “Is it the cold? Or are you finally remembering what it feels like to be owned by someone who doesn’t need a marriage license to take what he wants?”
“I’m shaking because I’m wondering how long it’ll take for the guards to find your bloated corpse in the surf,” I spit, my wit the only shield I have left while my blood ruins the silk robe Noah bought me. “You think this makes me yours? A scar? You’re a fucking child playing with matches, Kai. You’re nothing but a ghost with a grudge.”
His reaction is instant and violent. He slams me harder against the glass, the back of my head thumping against the windowpane. He grabs my jaw, his fingers digging into the bone until I’m forced to look at the monster I created.
“A ghost?” he hisses, the blade sliding up from my chest to the hollow of my throat. “A ghost doesn’t bleed. A ghost doesn’t remember the way you used to taste when you were begging me to ruin you in our parents house. I took the fall for you, Scarlett. I sat in that cage while you were out here playing princess, and you think a little bit of red is too much for me to ask?”
He tilts the knife, the edge catching the moonlight.
“Noah’s blood was a stain,” Kai whispers, leaning down until his lips are brushed against the fresh, stinging ‘K’ on my chest. He licks the wound, his tongue hot and abrasive, dragging the metallic tang of me across his teeth. “My mark is a promise. Every time he looks at you, he’s going to see the way I carved my way back into your life.”
Outside, the heavy thud of Noah’s boots on the marble floor gets louder. He’s not calling out anymore. He’s hunting.
“Scarlett? I can hear you breathing. Open these goddamn curtains.”
Noah’s hand reaches for the velvet. The rings on the rod hiss as he begins to pull.
Kai doesn’t move. He doesn’t bolt for the balcony. Instead, he drops the knife and grabs the front of my robe, ripping it wider, exposing the gore and the ruin of my chest to the air. He hooks his hand around my waist and hauls me flush against his soaked, filthy body, his cock a hard, demanding threat against my hip.
“Look at the door, little sister,” Kai growls, his voice a lethal command. “Watch him find out that he’s been sleeping in a bed I already broke.”
The curtain jerks. A sliver of light from the bedroom spills into our dark sanctuary, hitting the floor first, then rising.
“Noah, don’t—” I start, but the words are choked off as Kai’s hand snaps back to my throat, squeezing just enough to make my vision blur at the edges.
“Let him see,” Kai breathes, his eyes fixed on the gap in the velvet. “Let him see what happens when you try to replace a god with a man in a suit.”
The curtain rips open.
Noah stands there, his face a mask of confusion that rapidly twists into a sickening, distorted horror. He’s staring at me—at the blood dripping down my ribs, at the jagged letter carved into my skin, and at the man holding me like a trophy.
But Kai is gone.
In the heartbeat it took Noah to blink, the space behind me is empty. The balcony door is wide open, the sheer white curtains billowing like a shroud in the wind. I’m standing there alone, my robe open, my chest a roadmap of violence, shaking so violently I can hear my teeth chattering.
Noah’s glass hits the floor. Shatters. Just like the silence.
“Scarlett?” he whispers, his voice trembling as he looks at the blood on my face, the blood on my hands. “What the fuck… who was in here? Who did this to you?”
I look at the dark jungle outside, at the place where the wolf is waiting for me. I can still feel the ghost of Kai’s tongue on my wound. I can still feel the weight of his name in my skin.
“Nobody, Noah,” I say, a cold, empty smile spreading across my face as I look my fiancé in the eye. “I told you. The island doesn’t let go of what it claims.”
I step toward him, the blood trailing behind me on the white marble like a red carpet.
“Now, are you going to help me clean this up, or are you just going to watch me bleed?”
Scarlett
Noah doesn’t raise his voice when he tells me.
That’s the worst part.
We’re in the car, the same blacked-out vehicle that ferried us through the jungle yesterday like a hearse with leather seats, and the island is pretending again—sunlight pouring itself over the road, palm trees bowing politely, the sea flashing blue through gaps in the cliffs like it’s advertising salvation. My chest still aches beneath the carefully chosen fabric of my dress, the bandage hidden, the wound throbbing in a slow, traitorous rhythm that feels like memory.
Noah’s hands are steady on the wheel.
“Two days,” he says calmly. “That’s when the wedding will be.”
