Page 126 of Deliria

I open my mouth to protest again, to tell her this isn’t a solution, that what she’s planning will only pull her deeper into Alexander’s world, deeper into a muck none of us will crawl out of clean. But the words freeze in my throat.

Her eyes are gleaming now, glistening with a fire that refuses to die, and I can see it, the same cold, calculated glint that even now inhabits the darkest corners of my own heart. But while my need is born out of cruelty, Scarlett’s is forged in the fires of loss, of suffering. Do I really want her to go down this path, to sully her soul in such a permanent and irrevocable way?

A part of me tells me to grab her and get the hell out of here. That if I play the hero for a few short moments longer, I could carve out a narrow window and whisk her away to escape the hell Alex built for her. But another part, one I hate for existing, realizes Scarlett doesn’t need saving anymore. Not in the way normal people do.

Because the woman in that hospital bed isn’t some broken puppet begging for freedom.

She’s something far more dangerous.

I stand, the urge to step away from this carefully spinning web thrumming through me, but her gaze keeps me rooted. In the dim light of the hospital room, Scarlett’s figure is hauntingly vivid and achingly sharp against the sterile backdrop. Her frailty is deceptive, misleading. And something tells me she’s counting on that.

“You’re serious,” I murmur, though it’s not really a question. “You’ll do whatever it takes, won’t you?”

Her smile remains, thinner now, more reserved, as if she’s offering me one final chance to back out gracefully. “Whatever it takes.”

And she means every word.

“Scarlett...” I drag a hand through my hair, pausing by the door, the familiar rush of panic making my chest feel too tight “...this isn’t a game.”

Her eyes follow me, unblinking, as if she’s waiting for me to make a move—or a mistake. “No, Rafe. It is not.” Her voice drops to a near-whisper, seething with cold certainty. “It’s war.”

And she’s right. This is war. It’s just not one I ever planned on fighting. At least, not like this.

I rub a hand over my jaw, buying myself a moment. I’ve spent enough years of my life dealing with my brother’s demons to know when a situation is spiralling out of control. And right now? We’re well past that point. There’s no stopping what’s coming.

Turning toward the door, I start to leave, knowing that staying here longer is risking too much. Scarlett’s plan runs deeper than I thought it could, and no matter how much she means to me, no matter how much I might want to save her, Ican’t be here when Alexander returns. He’d smell the betrayal on me from a mile away.

But then, just as my fingers reach the cold metallic handle, I hear her voice again. Quiet, steady, but loaded with a challenge.

“You’ll keep your mouth shut, won’t you? About all this.”

I freeze, my fingers clenched around the handle like a vice. I don’t respond immediately, because I don’t know how. Everything in me screams that this is wrong, that staying silent, playing a part in whatever hell she’s about to unleash would make me complicit in a darkness too deep for any redemption.

But when I look back into her eyes, those hardened, hollowed eyes, part of me understands; silence might be the only currency I have left to bargain with in this twisted game.

“Rafe?” There’s a softness to her words now, and for a moment, I catch a glimpse of the woman I thought I knew before this nightmare began.

The pause drags on between us, heavy and strained, filled with the weight of all the unsaid things, all the unspoken truths. Then I give her the only answer I can.

“I’ll do what I can, Scarlett. But don’t ask for more than I’m willing to give.”

Her eyes search mine, softening briefly before the steeliness returns, as though some part of her wanted to grasp that fleeting vulnerability, but ultimately chose against it. Neither of us is ready to expose too much; the stakes are simply too high.

“Good.” She settles back against the pillows, her body visibly relaxing for the first time since I came into the room. “For now, that’s enough.”

I don’t move. Not immediately. I know Alexander could return at any minute, though I had arranged everything to give me more time. The clock is ticking nonetheless. Still,something holds me, like there’s some invisible tether strung too tight between us. I silently marvel at how this situation has unravelled so far from the original thread I’d hoped to tug. There’s a subtle power shift, an eerie calm in Scarlett’s voice now contrasted starkly against the heartbreaking despondency I’d expected when the truth about Sebastian came out.

“I better go,” I say. “He’ll be back soon. Don’t push yourself too hard.”

Scarlett meets my eyes one last time, that sly smile lurking at the corner of her lips, delicate and dangerous all at once. Her voice drops to a whisper, soft enough to make the room feel unbearably small and intimate.

“Don’t worry about me, Rafe,” she says, her words sinking deeper than I think she intends. “I’m stronger than I look.”

I don’t doubt that. Not anymore.

With one final look at her, small, broken, but infinitely more dangerous than anyone will give her credit for, I pull open the door.

The sterile fluorescent lights of the hospital corridor greet me, their harsh glow making reality feel painfully immediate after all the quiet, dark tension in her room.

---