Chapter 2

SCARLETT

For a second, nobody moved.

I was staring up at Carter Blackwood, the Alpha of the most powerful pack in the city—or the CEO of Blackwood corp, depending on who you asked. To me, he was just a terrifying wall of muscle in a three-piece suit.

He looked down at me, his gaze landing on the tear in my shirt that exposed my shoulder and a hint of my bra strap. For a fleeting moment, his nostrils flared, and his pupils dilated.

Recognition flashed in his eyes. He knew who I was.

Wait, he remembers me?

From the gala last year?

But then, his face turned into a sheet of granite.

"Get her out of here," he commanded. He didn't even look at me anymore; he looked at his head of security.

"She’s cluttering the driveway."

"Sir, she ran into you—" the guard started.

"I don't care," Carter interrupted. He reached into his inner suit pocket, pulled out a checkbook and a pen, scrawled something hastily, and ripped it out.

He let the paper flutter down. It landed in the dirt by my sneaker.

"For the shirt," he said coldly. "And for your silence. Go away."

He stepped over my suitcase like it was a pile of garbage and strode into the venue without looking back.

I stared at the check. It was blank. A blank check.

He thinks he can just buy me off? Like I’m some roadside accident he needs to pay an insurance premium on?

Do I really look that homeless, like homeless-homeless, for him to shove me like dirt?

Goddess, I was working in a multi-dollar company. How did my life turn so bad?

"Move it," the guard barked, grabbing my arm.

"I’m going!" I yanked my arm back, snatching the check from the dirt—not because I wanted his money, but because leaving it there felt like littering. I grabbed my suitcase handle and began the walk of shame down the long driveway.

I made it exactly fifty feet before the universe decided to kick me again.

A sleek convertible pulled up, blocking my path. Three women stepped out, dressed in pastels that cost more than my college tuition. Emily, Sloane, and Diane. The "Blackwood corp Angels." My former colleagues who had spent the last two years drooling over Caleb and making my life hell.

"Oh my god," Diane squealed, adjusting her fascinator. "Is that Scarlett?"

"It looks like a homeless person," Sloane laughed, covering her nose. "Oh wait, same thing."

Ha, funny. I try not to roll my eyes.

"Did you actually try to crash the wedding?" Emily stepped closer, a cruel smirk painted on her lips. "Caleb told us you might try something pathetic. But looking at you... wow. That suitcase has seen better days, honey. Just like your career."

I tightened my grip on the handle. I was tired. I was hungry. And I was done.

"Move, Emily," I said.

"Or what?" She sneered. "You’ll cry? Caleb is happy now, Scarlett. He’s with a woman who actually fits in. You were just a placeholder. We all knew it. He used to complain about you in the break room, you know. How clingy you were."

Something snapped.

"Funny," I said, stepping into her personal space. A manic, sarcastic smile stretched across my face. "Because he used to tell me that your perfume smelled like 'desperate grandma' and that Sloane’s voice made him want to stab his own eardrums with a pencil."

The three of them froze, mouths gaping.

"Oh, and Diane?" I tilted my head. "He said you were the most annoying of the bunch, but he kept you around because you made great coffee. Enjoy the wedding, bitches."

Before they could recover, I swung my heavy suitcase forward to clear a path. They shrieked and jumped back in their expensive heels to avoid getting their shins smashed.

"Psycho!" Emily screamed after me.

Blah, blah, blah.

I didn't look back. I kept walking until the manicured lawns of the estate gave way to the gritty city pavement.

Night had fallen by the time I reached the city center. The adrenaline from the confrontation had faded, leaving me shivering. My torn shirt was flapping open in the cold wind, and I had one arm wrapped around myself to hold it together.

I sat on a cold bench near the park entrance, pulling out my phone.

Nora. I need Nora.

I pressed the power button. Nothing.

I pressed it again. A red battery icon flashed for a microsecond, then died completely.

"No," I whispered, tapping the screen frantically. "No, no, no. Please. I beg you, don't die, please."

Dead.

Great.

I groaned, dropping my head into my hands. Nora lived across town. I didn't know her address by heart—I always just used GPS. I couldn't call her. I couldn't call a cab. I had a blank check in my pocket but zero cash and no ID to cash it with at this hour.

I looked at the park behind me. It was dark, shadowy, and uninviting. But it was better than the open sidewalk.

"Hey, sweetheart."

My head snapped up.

Three men were standing a few feet away. They looked like street wolves—low-level thugs with hungry eyes and the stench of cheap alcohol.

How the great Scarlett has fallen. I get to see some cheap thug face to face.

"Nice suitcase," one of them said, stepping closer. He gestured to my chest. "Nice shirt, too. Looks a little... drafty."

"Back off, man-bitch," I warned, standing up. I tried to sound brave, but my voice trembled.

"Feisty," the second one laughed. He lunged forward and grabbed the torn fabric of my shoulder.

"Don't!" I shrieked, swinging my bag at him. He caught my wrist easily, twisting it.

His smile widened into something menacing.

"Let go of me!" I screamed, shrinking as he brought his face closer to mine.

Until...

Screech.