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With a scream, Ariadne launches herself at Scarlett. And something in me wants to step in and take the blow, but I hang back as Scarlett demanded and I watch the perimeter for any other assassins who might decide Ariadne could use some backup.
This is Scarlett’s fight, her chance to settle the score once and for all. And I can see every shred of technique and ferocity I’ve drilled into her put to the test right here. Pride tightens my chest as I watch Scarlett decide she’s seen enough, and begins to attack instead of defend, pushing back at Ariadne’s onslaught. She’s holding her own, matching the other woman strike for strike until Ariadne realizes she won’t win that way.
They break apart and slowly circle each other. Scarlett’s eyes remain locked on her prey and I see what she’s become under my training.
A wolf. A wolf like me.
She’s cool under pressure, tactical but daring, and there’s no hint of the rage that takes over sometimes, the anger that makes her careless.
She’s going to win. She’s going to have her vengeance. And I couldn’t be happier for her.
Ariadne tries a roundhouse kick that Scarlett deflects with a precisely timed block that sends her enemy stumbling away. Scarlett slashes out with her knife, trying for the throat, but Ariadne manages to throw herself just out of reach. The knife catches on her mask instead, tearing it free, so that it falls to the ground and leaves her face exposed.
And the blood in my veins turns cold as I stare into those wild, unhinged eyes. Because there, stripped of her disguise, is a face that is strangely, painfully familiar.
“Scarlett, stop!”
But Scarlett doesn’t so much as spare me a glance, too eager for victory. With a smile of pure savagery, she presses her attack, raining down a flurry of strikes that drive the reeling Ariadne back step by step.
“Stop!” I roar again.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” she snarls back.
“Please, just wait a?—”
“If you want me to stop, you’ll have to stop me yourself!”
I should have pieced it together when we saw Ariadne’s bedroom. But I didn’t. And now I have to step in—risk Scarlett hating me—stop her before she does something terrible.
Even more terrible.
I launch myself into the fray, ducking a wild swing from Ariadne and making Scarlett spin to avoid impacting me with the knife thrust she just made. I kick Ariadne hard in the middle and she slams back against the chain-link fence, dropping to the ground. She’s still conscious, but staggers when she tries to get to her feet, and I figure she’ll be out of action for at least ten more seconds—ten seconds that I can use to talk down Scarlett.
Scarlett still has her knife in her hand and is fixing me with a cold stare. “Let me finish this,” she warns me, “or I’ll finish you, too, Wolf.”
I hold up my hands in the universal sign for calm the fuck down. The problem is, she is calm. Dead calm. “You can’t kill her.”
“Just watch me!”
“Listen,” I hiss, and something in my manner finally gets through her absolute focus. “I know this girl. This—woman.”
“So?”
“It’s Sarah,” I tell her. “Sarah Graves. Mrs. Graves’ daughter.”
Sarah Graves, who has supposedly been dead for over a decade.
CHAPTER 14
Lyssa
Scarlett’s eyes narrow as she looks from me to Ariadne.
To Sarah.
“Sarah Graves is dead,” Scarlett says. “Or so you told me.”
“Yeah,” I agree. “Which is why I’d really like to know what the hell is going on.”
