Page 105 of Without a Trace
I met her stare, unmoving. “Get dressed. Something you can bleed in, just in case.”
She narrowed her eyes at me, still smirking. “Wow. You sure know how to sweet-talk a girl.”
The room smelled of ocean wind and salt-damp stone. Morning sun filtered through the curtains, gilding her skin, her limbs, a don't-fuck-with-me glint in her eyes.
“In case of what?” she asked, folding one leg beneath her.
“In case someone decides you’re more valuable than we can protect,” I said.
For once, she didn’t fire back. Not immediately.
Then she stood—slow and lethal—stretching just enough to let the tank slide higher on her hips.
“Fine,” she said, brushing past Kane, voice light and cutting. “But I’m not sparring with anyone I’m sleeping with.”
Rhett’s eyebrows rose. “Yet?”
She shot a glance over her shoulder. “Just keeping things professional, boys.”
Then she disappeared down the hall.
Kane turned to me. “You know we’re all in trouble, right?”
“She’s not trouble,” I said. “She’s the warning before it hits.”
Outside, the wind shifted. Palm fronds shivered.
The island was waking up.
And Scarlett?
She already fucking owned it.
Scarlett
We were on a flat stretch of sand tucked between the trees and the water, the shoreline half-shaded by palms and jagged limestone. The kind of place that looked quiet—peaceful even—if you didn’t know what was coming.
I’d thrown on black spandex shorts and a cropped tank, tied my hair up with zero fucks and even less effort. Laced up my old tennis shoes, the soles half-worn and crusted with dried mud from some other chaos. No makeup. No jewelry. Just me, sweat, and a grudge I hadn’t decided where to aim yet.
Sun already high, heat rolling off everything. Cicadas screaming from the trees. Sweat prickled at my neck before I even moved.
Zeke stood at the edge of the sand, arms crossed, still as a statue. The others flanked him, half-watching, half-waiting for me to fold.
Rhett tossed a pair of wrapped gloves at my chest. “You’re not gonna like this.”
I caught them without blinking. “I don’t like anything.”
Kane smirked. “See? She’s got the right attitude.”
Zeke’s stare didn’t waver. “We’re going to teach you how to defend yourself. No showboating. No games. And no getting cute.”
Kane dragged a stick through the sand, carving out a wide circle. “In.”
I stepped inside like it was a throne room.
“Try not to fall in love,” I said, grinning as I squared my stance.
They didn’t know this part of me.
