I walked out of the estate, out into the evening sun, and didn’t stop moving.
They thought they could hide her from me.
But fire finds fire.
And tonight, I was going to burn Salerno’s name into ash. For taking what’s mine. For bruising her. For daring to believe he could be me:
There is no version of this world where Winston survives the night.
None.
***
SCARLETT’S POV
The sea rocks like a lullaby written by hell. Velvet waves. Poison air. I came to slowly–lids heavy, tongue like lead, wrists limp against silk sheets.
The ceiling above me glittered. Gold–plated. Gaudy. Somewhere between a cartel prince’s wet dream and a hostage honeymoon suite.
“Scarlett,” came his voice, low, reverent, revolting.
Winston.
I didn’t move. Let him think I was still swimming in whatever cocktail he’d dosed me with. I shifted just slightly, enough to feel the, cool sting of glass pressing into my palm. I’d hidden it in the folds of the mattress seam hours ago. Waited until he thought I was too far gone to notice.
“Wake up, darling,” he cooed again. His boots padded across marble. He smelled like aftershave and desperation. “You’ve been sleeping so long. Must be the ocean air… or the sedative.” He laughed softly to himself. “I had to. You were being difficult again. But it’s fine now. We’re far away. Out of reach. Just
us.”
I blinked slowly, like I was dazed. Then turned my face toward him, just enough to give him the look I used on corpses before I buried them.
“You drugged your bride, Winston. Romantic.”
His smile widened–like he didn’t even hear the venom. “You sound like yourself again. That fire. That’s what I missed. You’ll feel better soon. The nausea passes. I’ve arranged a ceremony in Greece. Just a formality. New names. New life. No one will ever find us. You’ll see, Scarlett. You’ll fall in love with me again. The way it was supposed to be.”
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I curled my fingers tighter around the glass. It bit into skin. Perfect.
He sat beside me on the edge of the bed. Fingers brushed my cheek. I didn’t flinch. Yet.
“You think you know love,” I murmured, calm as ice. “But all you’ve ever known is obsession. You don’t love me, Winston. You just hate that I stopped loving you.”
He flinched like I slapped him. Good.
“You don’t mean that. You don’t know what you’re saying. You’re not yourself. Alina said-”
I barked a laugh that made his expression curdle. “Alina? You’re quoting a woman who fakes her own orgasms and thinks every man in a suit is a soulmate? She couldn’t be unstable if she was tied to a hospital bed.”
He stood suddenly. Pacing. Hands in his hair. Manic. “You don’t get it. I chose you. I realized too late. Alina was convenient. You were everything. You always were. I watched you become a wife to someone else, but I knew it was mine, that love, that fire. He stole it. Zacharias poisoned you against me. But we’ll fix it.”
I dragged myself upright. Slow. Controlled. I stared him dead in the eye.
“No, Winston. What’s broken is you.”
The shard in my hand burned now, blood slicking my palm. I welcomed it. A gift. A countdown.
He leaned down again, cupping my face. Whispered against my lips, “I’ll make you love me again. One way or another.”
And I smiled.
Because the sea’s not the only thing he should fear out here. It’s the woman he caged. With broken glass.
***
One hour had passed,
Turbulence rocked the yacht like it had a soul of its own–violent, restless, prophetic. I stayed still as it groaned and swayed, letting Winston pace like a wolf on polished floors. His shirt clung to him, unbuttoned halfway, chest rising too fast. His pupils were pinpricks, hands shaking as he poured two glasses of wine.
Like we were lovers at sea instead of predator and prey,
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He turned with both glasses, that warped smile pulling tight across his face.
“Drink with me,” he said. “We can watch the sunset together. You used to love that.”
I was seated on the velvet couch, legs crossed, blouse torn–because he’d ripped it in his earlier tantrum, fabric split wide open, exposing the black lace of my bra like a deliberate wound.
I didn’t bother covering myself. I knew what power really was.
“I used to love a lot of things,” I said slowly, “before I saw the maggots squirming inside them.”
Winston’s smile faltered. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
I took the wineglass. Didn’t drink. Just tilted it in my hand and watched the swirl.
“You’re trying so hard to play husband. But you’ve always been the coward who poisons what he can’t keep.”
He stood there for a second, jaw tight, blood rising in his face.
Then the glass shattered against the wall behind me.
He moved fast–grabbed me by the arm, yanked me to my feet, wild eyes
locked to mine.
“You think this is funny? That I brought you all the way out here just for you to insult me again?” he hissed.
“You brought me here because you know I’ll never love you. Because you’re too pathetic to live in a world where I don’t belong to you.”
The word slipped—pathetic.
His hand flew. Open palm, across my cheek. The taste of blood bloomed warm and metallic against my teeth.
Still, I smiled.
Because that? That was his last mistake.
He stilled. Realized what he’d done. That pitiful tremble entered his fingers again, the one he got whenever he hit me and remembered too late that I hit back harder.
“Scarlett…” he whispered, brushing hair from my face like he hadn’t just struck it. “I–I didn’t mean to. You make me so- You bring it out in me. But I swear, I’ll fix it. I’ll make it better. You’ll see-”
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He leaned in, close enough that I could feel the heat of his breath.
And that’s when I moved.
The shard I’d tucked behind my thigh, pressed against my waistband–came
up fast and clean, straight toward his neck.
But he was faster. Somehow.
His hand caught my wrist mid–air.
Glass trembled inches from his throat.
His roar filled the room like a hurricane.
He slammed me against the cabin wall so hard the air fled my lungs.
“You bitch—” he snarled. “You ungrateful, conniving little-”
“I warned you,” I rasped, eyes locked to his, calm as the devil. “I told you not to touch me again.”
He pressed harder. His knee between my legs. His grip steel on my wrists. The boat bucked beneath us as the sea thrashed harder, like it could taste the rage.
