Page 125 of Deliria

“And you’re here to help? To save me from him?” There’s venom in her words, cutting deep, but it’s the hollow, empty sound that echoes after each syllable that hurts more. It’s like all the warmth, all the softness I remember from her has just gone. And I can’t say I blame her.

“I’m here because you don’t deserve this,” I state. “And because, despite everything your family may have done to mine, I don’t want to see Alexander destroy you. You’re smarter than him, stronger than him. I want to help you get away, if that’s what you want.”

She watches me for a moment, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly, as if trying to determine whether I’m being honest or if this is just another manipulation. And to be fair, I can’t blame her for that either. God knows she’s been through enough twists and betrayals to never trust someone again.

But then something shifts in her, something darker.

A smile, a cold, crooked smile, starts to curl the edges of her lips, unnerving in a way that makes my stomach tighten.

“Get away?” she says, her voice now almost mocking, dripping with a kind of bitterness I’ve never heard from her before. “No, Rafe. I’m not going to run away.” She pauses and shifts in the bed, pulling herself up straighter, her eyes locking onto mine with a fierceness that chills me to the core. “Your family, Alex, they owe me. They took everything from me. But I’m not broken, no matter how much Alex has tried to make sure of it. And I’m certainly not leaving without making them pay.”

I blink, not quite understanding what I’m hearing, or maybe not wanting to understand. “Scarlett, I’m offering you a way out. If you stay, you’re playing right into his hands, and you won’t be able to defend yourself...”

She laughs, a low, hollow sound that echoes unnaturally in the sterile room. “Play into his hands? You don’t get it, do you?” Her eyes glisten with something sharper than grief, something darker than despair. “It’s not about getting out, Rafe. It’s about getting even. And if you actually care, if you genuinely want to help, then you’ll follow my lead.”

I stare at her, dumbfounded. Everything in me screams that something’s wrong here. Scarlett was always fierce, yes, but this? This isn’t just a woman bent on survival.

This is vengeance incarnate.

And here I am, caught like some naive fool in the middle of whatever game she’s about to start playing.

How the fuck did I not see this side of her before? How on earth did I simply dismiss her as a simpering, smiling fool?

Did she play me too? Did she play all of us?

“What’s your plan, then?” I ask, my voice guarded, unsure if I even want the answer.

She smiles, slow and deliberate, like she’s been playing this scenario in her head many times over. “Alex thinks I’m weak, that he’s won because he’s kept me here, drugged and helpless. But I’m not helpless anymore. I’m going to make sure he thinks I’m still under his control, right until I shatter everything he’s built around me.”

I swallow hard, forcing my voice to remain calm even as my brain screams at me to run the hell away from whatever this is. “You don’t understand what you’re asking…”

She cuts me off, her voice cold. “Oh, I know exactly what I’m asking. I’m asking you to get in line Rafe, because I know you hate Alex just as much as I do. So help me destroy him. Help me destroy all of them.

I stare at her, feeling like the ground beneath me has shifted while I wasn’t looking.

This isn’t how it was supposed to go. I came here to save her, to give her an out, to be the one thing that Alexander wasn’t expecting, but instead, she’s flipping the entire game on its head, and I’m not sure anymore who the pawn is. Me? Alexander? Or is it her?

“I…” I start to speak, but her eyes burn into me like hot coals, and the words die in my throat. That’s when I realize that her plan, her whole approach, isn’t just a spur-of-the-moment explosion of anger or grief. This is deliberate. Scarlett didn’t lose herself in the wreck my brother created of her, no, she found something, something dangerous, and I’m not sure whether I should feel relieved or terrified. Maybe both.

“You don’t want help getting out?” I manage softly, poking again, sensing that she’s allowing me to grasp a sliver of understanding, but not the whole truth. Not yet.

Her smile flattens into a sharp line, the cold, unsettling look on her face softening almost imperceptibly. Not by much, just enough to imply she’s inwardly balancing her emotional calculus—and that should scare me.

“No, Rafe. I don’t want an escape. I want justice. And much more than that, I want revenge.”

The word hangs between us, thick and laden with intent. It doesn’t surprise me, exactly, not after everything she’s been through, but something about the way she says it sends a chill prickling down my spine.

I take a second, collecting my thoughts, trying to find any possible thread I can latch onto that doesn’t lead to everything burning down around me.

“Scarlett,” I whisper, my voice heavier with concern now, “if you’re planning to burn it all down, you better know what comes after. Because once you set it in motion, once you start, there’s no guarantee you’ll be standing at the end.”

Her expression falters for a moment, a brief flicker of old vulnerability, but that creeping smile, wicked and controlled, returns quickly, as if she shuts it down with a practiced ease.

“You think I’m scared to lose, Rafe?” Her tone hardens as she readjusts herself in the bed, her face locking into an unsettling mask of determination. “Think I’m afraid of dying? I’ve already lost everything. There’s nothing left for me to fear anymore.”

The weight of her words settles over me like a crushing wave. I don’t know whether it’s grief, intensity or sheer willpower dragging her forward, but I understand one thing with unsettling clarity; Scarlett is no longer fighting to survive. She’s fighting to destroy.

And when you have nothing left to lose, you become something, someone, no one can predict.

---