A cold front brushes against my skin, the air sharp and biting as it cuts across the exposed skin at the back of my neck. Chills rake down my spine until my muscles twitch, and my fingers tighten around the six-inch blade clenched in my grasp. I don't look back. I already know who's behind me. His presence is like acid on open wounds—stinging, intrusive, unwelcome.
Three weeks.
It's been three weeks since I last saw Axel Leopold's face.
And gods help me, I'd hoped it would be a hell of a lot longer.
The ache in my chest sharpens as my mind claws back to that night. My mother's screams still echo in my skull, trailing down my spine and twisting inside my ribs like a dull knife. I haven't slept without hearing them. I haven't slept without seeing her blood soaked into the wood grain of our home. And I haven't slept without blaming him—the boy behind me. The prince who was supposed to be my best friend. The boy who once swore he'd protect me.
He lied.
The blade in my hand shakes slightly. My knuckles have gone white from the grip.
"Scarlett, duck!"
Zak's voice cuts through the thundering in my ears. I drop immediately, pressing into the earth as something massive slices through the air just above my back and crashes against the underbrush behind me. The ground trembles. I don't waste a breath. In one smooth motion, I'm on my feet and sprinting toward the clearing.
Three of them.
The Ruined.
Their skin is grey and splitting, black veins crawling along their faces like the roots of some dead tree. Eyes hollow, mouths gaping with jagged teeth. They hiss and claw at the four of us, jaws snapping with the hunger of centuries. They reek of decay—of death.
Beside me are the Westons.
Valorie, Blayze, and Zakary Weston.
Half-breeds. Damnatus. Children of vampires and humans. Marked, hated, abandoned by both sides of the bloodline. When I lost my mother, I thought I was alone. But in the weeks that followed, I found them again. Neighbors I'd long forgotten. Survivors like me.
Their mother was devoured by a Ruined during a hunt. Their father? Executed in the palace square, a public example of what happened when you dared question the Crimson Throne. False charges. No trial.
Only blood.
They were barely teenagers when they were orphaned. Spared only because they were young and easily controlled. But no longer. Now, we share a cause. We share rage. We share the knowledge that the only way forward is through fire.
And tonight, we bring the blaze.
The Ruined hiss louder, stepping forward, and I grip my blade tighter.
Axel's still behind me. Watching. I can feel it.
But I'm done looking back.
Let him see what he made.
A low, satisfied breath slipped from my lips as I lunged forward, blade slicing clean through muscle and bone in a single fluid arc. One of the Ruined crumpled where it stood, its head thudding against the forest floor with a wet slap. Viscera painted the front of my black ankle boots, but I barely registered the gore as I kicked the severed head aside like it was nothing more than a rock in my path.
To my right, Zak barreled into the second Ruined, his sword plunging through its chest with brutal precision. The blade burst from its back, impaling the shriveled heart on its steel tip. A cocky grin curled on Zak's face as he looked up, offering me a wink that stirred something in my stomach I refused to acknowledge. I rolled my eyes with a quiet huff of laughter, forcing my focus elsewhere.
The last Ruined screeched as Valorie slid across the dirt and swept its feet out from under it. Her movements were fluid, practiced—almost elegant. Before it could recover, she drove her blade straight through its heart, pinning it to the earth. Blayze emerged from the shadows a beat later, stepping over the mangled bodies and setting all three aflame in one swift motion. The acrid scent of burning flesh filled the air.
"Nice touch," I said with a smirk, eyeing the flames as they danced in Blayze's eyes.
He shrugged, his expression as twisted as ever. "Just making sure they stay dead."
I gave a short nod and turned, leading us back through the thinning trees. I didn't look behind me. I didn't need to. I could feel him—Axel—hovering like a phantom just beyond reach, his presence burning holes into the back of my neck. Still, I refused to give him the satisfaction of acknowledgment.
Zak fell into step beside me, his palm brushing the small of my back. Warmth bloomed across my spine, momentarily breaking through the cold I'd been carrying since the night of my mother's death. I turned to him slowly, and as I did, a low, guttural growl rumbled behind us—subtle, but unmistakable.
I ignored it.
Zak dropped his hand as soon as I looked at him, but his smile lingered. "Alright, I'll say it—you were right. It was a damn good plan, Scar."
The nickname caught me off guard. It always did when someone besides Axel used it. There was a small sting buried inside it, like a phantom ache from a wound not fully healed. Part of me wanted to correct him. The other part—broken and starved—welcomed the distance it gave me from the boy who once meant everything.
I tilted my head up at Zak, forcing a smile. "Of course it was. I came up with it, didn't I?"
He laughed under his breath and shook his head. "Wise ass."
We walked in silence, the trees thinning as we moved toward the clearing. But I could still feel him there—Axel—watching. Always watching. And this time, I welcomed the weight of his stare, because it reminded me of my resolve.
He made me this.
He'd regret it.
Every day for the past three weeks, we'd hunted these forests like it was the only thing tethering us to sanity. Between the outskirts of our homes and the towering walls of Crimson City, we cut down every Ruined we could track—one decaying monster at a time. They were quick, ravenous, and far more coordinated than most would assume. Somehow, despite the rot seeping through their flesh, they managed to communicate. Rumors had begun to spread among them.
Rumors about us.
They knew who we were now. They ran faster, hid deeper. The element of surprise we'd once thrived on was fading fast.
Cowardly bastards.
And then... there it was again—that maddening weight, searing into the back of my skull. The stare. His stare. No matter how long I ignored it, Axel's presence followed me like a cursed tether I couldn't cut. My jaw clenched as the heat built beneath my skin, slow and crawling like a storm just beneath the surface.
Enough.
I halted mid-step, the sound of crushed leaves silencing behind me as the Weston siblings turned to face me with furrowed brows. I raised a hand to stop them.
"I forgot something back there," I said evenly, forcing calm into my voice. "Go ahead. I'll catch up."
Zak stepped toward me, concern flickering in his eyes. "Are you sure?"
I nodded once, allowing a crooked grin to form. "You know I can handle myself if something goes to shit."
Behind him, Blayze chuckled and slapped a heavy hand onto Zak's shoulder. "Damn right she can."
Zak glared at his brother and shrugged the hand off. He hesitated, gaze lingering on me longer than I liked. I appreciated his worry—really, I did—but I wasn't the girl who needed protecting. Not anymore. Not since the screams of my mother carved themselves into my bones.
"I'll be fine," I said, firm this time, letting steel slip into my tone to make it clear: this wasn't up for debate.
Zak gave a reluctant nod and turned away, leading Valorie and Blayze through the trees. I didn't move until their footfalls faded into silence.
Then I turned.
And there he was.
The boy I used to love. The boy I still couldn't stop loving. The boy who ruined everything.
Axel Leopold.
The heir to the throne, the prince cloaked in guilt and shadows, watching me from between the trees like some ghost from a life I can't forgive.
I wanted to forget him. I wanted to hate him. But the worst part?
A piece of me still wanted to run into his arms.
And that part... needed to die.
I gasped sharply—his face was suddenly inches from mine, the forest spinning behind him. His green eyes, usually vivid and earthy, now bled into crimson, and the sight jolted something feral in my chest. Reflexively, I shoved a hand against his chest, but before I could push him back, his hand shot out, fingers curling around my wrist.
He didn't flinch. He didn't move. He didn't let go.
I hissed through my teeth. "What do you want, Prince?" I spat his title like poison, hoping it stung the way his betrayal had burned through me.
Axel's nostrils flared, a guttural growl rising in the back of his throat. "Who were those half-breeds you were with?"
My brows shot upward, then drew into a venomous glare. "Excuse you?" My voice was sharp as a blade. I yanked at my wrist, but his grip, while still careful, held firm. It was infuriating—gentle and unyielding all at once. He always handled me like I might break, and it only made the fire inside me burn hotter.
"That's none of your business. You forget I am also a half-breed."
But Axel moved before I could blink. Using my trapped wrist to pull me forward, he wrapped his free arm around my waist in one swift motion, locking me against him. The warmth of his body radiated against mine, a cruel contrast to the ice in my veins.
"Everything is my business when it comes to you," he growled lowly, voice tight with something between desperation and guilt.
My breath hitched. I squirmed in his hold, shoving at his chest, trying to twist free—but it was useless. He was stronger. He'd always been stronger.
Emotions swelled beneath my ribcage, pressure building like a storm trapped in a bottle. I was either going to scream until my throat tore raw, or collapse against him and let the sobs take me. I missed him more than I dared admit. Missed the boy who used to sneak through my window and talk until sunrise. Missed the friend who made me feel seen. Safe.
But he was the reason my mother was dead.
And for that—I hated him.
"Let. Me. Go," I grit out through clenched teeth, hatred and heartache sharpening every word.
His eyes searched mine like he was drowning in them. And then, softer—too soft to defend against—he whispered, "Never."
My lungs stilled.
The red in his irises began to fade, receding like a tide, revealing that familiar shade of green I used to love. The one that used to calm me.
"I'm so sorry, Scar," he murmured, pulling me closer until my forehead pressed beneath his chin, his arms wrapping around me like armor.
My body stiffened. Every nerve screamed in confusion.
I wanted to scream back at him, to claw at the memories and shove them down his throat. But I wasn't blind. I wasn't stupid enough to believe he had given the order. I knew he didn't wield the sword that ended her life.
And yet... he still brought it upon her.
A single tear slid down my cheek, betraying me. The ache in my chest tightened around my throat like a noose, and all I could do was stand there—frozen in the arms of the boy who broke me.
"She's gone," I managed to choke out, barely above a whisper. The words tasted like ash on my tongue. I bowed my head, resting it against his chest—if only for a moment—allowing myself to collapse into the arms of the devil I once called home. "My mother... your father's Knights killed her right in front of me." My voice broke. "It was too late to do anything."
Axel's grip tightened around me like he could somehow hold the pieces of me together. "I had no idea," he breathed. "I'm so sorry, Scar."
I sniffled, the sound muffled against his chest. "You said that already."
He let out a soft, broken laugh, and kissed the crown of my head. Tender. Too tender. "And I'll keep saying it until you forgive me."
Creator help me, I wanted to. Desperately. But I couldn't.
I saw the light leave her eyes. I heard the silence that followed. And then I watched my father crumble when he arrived home to bloodstained floors and cold skin. I'm the only thread holding his heart together. He told me the truth afterward—about how he and Mom worked for the King. About the secrets they kept to protect me. But what he didn't say—the part he left out—was what they sacrificed to do it.
To run back into the arms of the Prince after my mother's execution would be like killing her all over again. Worse. It would be betrayal. A dagger in my father's back.
So no—I couldn't forgive Axel. Not now. Maybe not ever.
As much as my soul begged to cling to the boy I once loved, there was only one path forward: vengeance.
Forgive me, my Prince.
I stepped back, and he let me go.
Clearing my throat, I lifted my gaze to his, searching for guilt—something I could hold against him. But I found nothing. No deceit. No betrayal. Only confusion and heartbreak.
It would be easier if he was guilty. Easier to hate him. But he wasn't. And that made it so much harder.
"I'm sorry," I said, the words sharp as glass. "But I can't forgive you. Not today, Axel."
His eyes flickered. He tried to keep his composure, but I saw it—the fracture behind his irises. "Why?" he asked quietly. "Scar, I didn't hurt her. It was my father's order—"
"And that's why," I cut in, firm and final. "That's exactly why we can't see each other anymore."
His mouth opened, a protest on his tongue, but I raised a hand to silence him.
"My father is the only person I have left," I whispered. "I won't risk his life..." I paused, throat thick, chest burning. "Even for the man I love."
His breath caught. His body reeled back like I'd slapped him.
"W-what?"
I didn't give him a chance to speak again. I offered a soft, sorrowful smile, the kind that carved its own grave into my heart.
"Goodbye, Axel."
Then I turned—and ran.
"Scar! Scar, wait!" he called after me, voice ragged and cracking.
But he didn't follow.
And I wasn't sure if that made it hurt more... or less.
Three weeks ago, everything I knew shattered.
I lost my mother.
I lost half of my father.
And I lost him.
But today—today, I begin to set it right.
Starting with the Choosing Ball.