I turned around.
Scarlett stood in the doorway, but the girl in the leather jacket was gone. In her place was someone sharper, darker. She had changed into a black leather dress that clung to every curve, the fabric molded tight against her body. The neckline plunged shamelessly, dipping almost to her navel, and the skirt barely skimmed her thighs.
This version of Scarlett felt unfamiliar. Dangerous.
“You… changed,” I said, my voice unsteady.
“What, you don’t like it?” She twirled once, the hem sliding even higher up her legs. “Figured I’d try something new.”
I couldn’t look away. Her body-when had I missed this? The confidence, the heat. She was… stunning.
“It’s… different,” I managed.
“Elara, listen to me.” Her tone shifted abruptly, icy and serious. “Don’t marry him.”
“What?”
“Damian Grayson is a loaded gun.” She walked toward me, heels striking the floor with sharp, deliberate clicks. “He’s killed people. More than you want to know.”
“That’s not exactly a secret.” I retreated a step. “I know who he is. I know what his family does.”
“You don’t know a damn thing,” she snapped, grabbing my arm, her fingers biting into my skin. “You watch movies and think you understand? Real life is uglier. Bloodier. Crueler.”
I yanked my arm free. “We’ve gone over this a thousand times. You and Damian always end up at each other’s throats.”
Her expression hardened instantly. She turned away, anger radiating off her back.
“May-wait.” I followed her. “I didn’t mean it like that. I’m sorry. I know you’re worried about me.” I hesitated, then added quietly, “And I worry about you too.”
The question I’d been holding back finally slipped out. “Are you seeing someone?”
She stiffened completely. “Why?”
“No reason.” I forced a light tone. “Just… intuition. If you are, I hope you’re being careful. I just want you safe.”
She spun around, eyes blazing. “Safe?” she echoed, like the word offended her.
“I mean-if he’s into… rougher things. You should-”
“Rougher things?” Her voice dropped, dangerously calm. “Like what?”
Heat rushed to my face. “You know what I mean.”
Scarlett laughed suddenly. The sound was wrong-too sharp, too cold. “Elara Winters. The perfect little princess.” She closed the distance between us. “You really think I need lessons from you? You think I can’t handle a man?”
“I didn’t say that-”
“Yes, you did!” she shouted. “You always do. Saint Elara, looking down from your clean little pedestal. Am I your project? Your poor stray you need to save?”
“May, that’s not-”
“You hate it when I have something you don’t,” she cut in viciously. “Fun. Risk. A little danger.”
“I’m just worried about you!”
“Worried?” She scoffed. “You don’t even know what living is. Your world is all silk dresses and diamond rings. Real passion? Real danger? You’d never dare touch it.”
Each word sliced deep.
“I’m leaving.”
“May, please-”
“Don’t call me that!” she screamed. “I’m sick of your fake concern!”
“Scarlett!” I ran after her. “Don’t do this!”
But she was already gone. I heard the elevator chime, the doors sliding shut. Moments later, the engine roared-her Harley. I rushed to the window just in time to see her disappear into the night on that black machine.
Where would she go? I remembered her mentioning it once. When she was angry, she headed to an underground street-racing club. Brooklyn. The industrial district. The kind of place where things went wrong fast-especially for a woman dressed like that.
I grabbed my keys and bolted.
She was my best friend. No matter what she’d said. No matter how much it hurt. She had saved my life once. Now it was my turn to keep her from burning herself alive.
I texted Damian-told him Scarlett was gone and I was worried. Then I found the club.
The moment I shoved open the heavy steel door, heat slammed into me. Sweat. Alcohol. Something darker. The bass shook my bones as I scanned the crowd, panic tightening my chest.
Then I spotted it-her Harley, parked off to the side.
But Scarlett wasn’t there.
I pushed through the bodies, searching frantically. The music was so loud I could barely hear myself breathe.
And then I saw them.
In a shadowed corner, two figures were pressed together. Scarlett was bent against the bike, her dress shoved high up her thighs, a man’s hands roaming over her body. They were kissing-hard, reckless, desperate.
The man murmured against her lips, his voice low and rough. “How’d you ditch Elara to come see me?”
Scarlett laughed breathlessly, kissing him again. “I just threw a tantrum. The good little princess is probably at home right now, clutching her pearls, worried sick about me.”
The world went silent.
My chest hollowed out. My breath vanished. My nails dug into my palms as reality crashed down.
My fiancé.
My best friend.
Entwined like strangers who’d never cared about me at all.
