Page 41 of Vermilion Desire

“She stepped on my shoes! It fucking hurts, how dare that pig put her filth on me? Me! The perfection of god’s creation!”

This one-hundred-eighty change of his personality just added a couple of more degrees to it. He’s losing his mind on this matter, and his body rattles with the screams tearing through his voice.

“Really? You’re going to start your insanity defense right now? Ah, Jesus, please. My senior named Beth has every indication of a deranged psychopath, but you don’t see her playing insane. That woman sleeps with a can of worms.”

I can almost hear her eyes rolling.

“I’m going to fucking kill you.”

“Good luck in court and in prison. I’ll be rooting for you.”

Scarletta may not be the princess that everyone believes she is when they look at her. She may not be the nicest girl out there, and she may be the most easily misunderstood one.

In my eyes, she is the kindest, the most loving, and the fairest. This began as a protective action from being threatened by Braxton, and she reacted in this way to protect me and Cal. Then it becomes a road to justice for Ms. Addison and her grieving family.

Scarletta does things that are out of the norms, but she has the best intentions in mind.

I really love my little red.

Epilogue

Scarletta

Happily Ever After.

“Well?”

The letters in my hand fly out of my hand, scattering on the floor as I scramble onto my knees to gather them. My first instinct is to hide them from Mr. Wolf because he gets a bit protective when I get letters from prison.

Ever since the news of Braxton Berkshire’s case had gone viral and my role in it, I have been receiving letters at the research facility. Most of them are people in prison needing my help with their health conditions, while a handful of the content is about my inability to stay out of God’s work.

I don’t need to be a genius to know that those are the letters from Braxton’s fans, but I like to call them followers.

Luckily, no one dared to do anything stupid because I have Uncle Cal, who has the whole department at his disposal and Mr. Wolf’s notoriety of breaking bones with one punch. Even those who are a bit delusional would try to take Braxton out of prison before they went after me.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I mumble, crumbling the letters behind me.

“We talked about lying,” he reminds me with a scowl, snapping off his shirt in the hot summer night.

I huff, aware of his plan to distract me so he can get to the letters. I am not the least ashamed to say that it works every time because he is a masterpiece of sharp lines and thick muscles, a body so big that his shadow swallows me endlessly.

“It’s really nothing—just some love letters.”

I should have kept my mouth shut. One thing that triggers the same response from Mr. Wolf for threats is love letters from prison and people around the world.

I would toss them out, but it’s fun reading them because they think they can provide for me. Money from drug smuggling or guns for hire is not my taste. I have a specific taste that only Mr. Wolf can satisfy, and no one comes close to making me feel the love near fixation.

“Hand them over.” He holds his hand out, expectant and daring me to deny his command.

I guiltily hand them over with the diamond ring on my finger glimmering in possessiveness, and his eyes glaze over the physical ownership symbol on the ring with a pleasing rumble in his chest.

“I was just getting to the fun part.” I pout, using little tugging motions to pull the letters back.

“I’m burning them,” he hisses with a cruel sneer that paints his face.

I shudder under his gaze. Mr. Wolf has been burning all of the letters after he had found out just how sick people were. Somehow, I have received fan mails telling me how they plan on kidnapping me and killing me in the most horrific way.

They want to make a name for themselves and using my murdered body would get them the notoriety. When I said I like Mr. Wolf’s notoriety, I don’t mean anyone else’s nefarious reputation.

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