Scarlet

“I stayed behind,” he growled, “because I have unfinished business here.” His eyes flashed, practically glowing. There was nothing but hatred inside them—fiery and unrestrained.

Scarlet shifted so that her body better covered her grandmother.

“You are nothing,” Michelle said, her lashes dipping from exhaustion. Terror clutched at Scarlet’s heart. “Nothing but a puppet for that thaumaturge. They’ve taken away your gift and turned you all into monsters, but even with all the strength, all the senses, all the bloodlust—you remain the lowest of your peers, and you always will be.”

Scarlet’s mind whirred. Wanting the conversation to end, wanting her grandmother to stop goading him—knowing it made no difference. There was murder on Ran’s face.

A rough laugh burst out of him. His hands gripped the doorjamb to either side, entirely blocking the exit. “You’re wrong, you old hag. You know so much—you must know what becomes of a pack member who kills his alpha?” He didn’t wait for her response. “He takes his alpha’s place.” His cheeks dimpled. “And I’ve found that my brother, my alpha, has a weakness.” His words slipped off as his attention found Scarlet again.

“You are a naive young man.” Her grandmother coughed. “You are weak. You will never be more than a lowly omega. Even I can see that.”

Scarlet hissed. She could see the fury building inside Ran, feel the anger rolling off him. “Grand-mère!”

Then it became obvious, what her grandmother was trying to do.

“No! She doesn’t mean it.” She despised herself for pleading, but couldn’t care. “She’s old, she’s delirious! Just leave her—”

Fuming into the cell, Ran snatched Scarlet up by her hair and pried her away from her grandmother.

She shrieked, clawing at his forearm, but he tossed her back into the corner. “No!”

Her grandma screamed in pain as Ran lifted her by the throat. In a blink she was pinned against the wall, too weak to flail, to fight, to put up any resistance.

“LEAVE HER ALONE!” Scarlet scrambled up and jumped onto Ran’s back, locking her elbows around his neck, squeezing with all her might. When Ran didn’t even flinch, she clawed at him, aiming for his eye sockets.

Ran howled and dropped her grandmother into a heap, then flung Scarlet off his back. She collapsed against the wall, but she barely felt the impact, her attention falling on her grandmother’s limp, bandaged form.

“Grand-mère!”

Their gazes met and she could see, in an instant, that her grandmother would not be moving again. Her dry lips managed to stammer—“Ru…” But nothing followed. Her eyes lingered open, eerily empty.

Scarlet shoved herself off the wall, but Ran was there first, his massive form crouching over her grandmother’s body, scooping one hand beneath her back so that her head fell heavily onto the hard floor.

Like a starved animal having brought down his first kill, Ran leaned over and clamped his jaws over Michelle’s neck.

Scarlet screamed and fell backward. The world spun with the sight of blood and Ran crouched on all fours.

Her grandmother’s accusation echoed back to her. They’ve turned you all into monsters.

Still in shock, she forced her face away and rolled onto her side. Her stomach heaved, but there was nothing inside her but bile and saliva. She tasted iron and acid and blood and realized she’d bitten her tongue when Ran had thrown her at the wall, but there was no pain. Only hollowness and horror and a dark cloud creeping over her.

She was not here. This was not happening.

Stomach burning from trying to push up food that wasn’t there, she crawled toward the far wall, putting as much distance between her and Ran as she could. Ran and her grandmother.

Her hand fell into the streak of light from the hallway. Her skin was sickly pale. She was trembling.

Run.

Lifting her head, she could see the start of a stairwell at the end of the hallway. Beside it, a painted sign long since faded. TO STAGE.

Run.

Her brain struggled to find the meaning of the words. TO STAGE. Stage. Stage.

Her grandmother’s last words.

Run!

Reaching forward, she wrapped her fingers around the bars of the cell and used them as leverage. Straining to pull herself up. To stand. To push forward, into the hallway, into the light.

Her legs felt nonexistent at first as she hobbled to the bottom of the stairs, but as she climbed, she found strength in them. She pushed forward. She ran.

A closed door loomed at the top of the stairs, an old wooden door not even equipped with an ID scanner. It creaked when she shoved it open.

Then footsteps below, coming for her.

Scarlet emerged backstage. Old pillars stood clustered together to her right and a maze of fake stone walls and painted trees filled the shadows to her left. The door slammed behind her and she ran into the wooden forest, grabbing a wrought-iron candelabra.

She lifted it in both hands and waited, feet braced.

Ran burst through the door, chin covered in blood.