The tires screeched as Alex pulled the car into a concealed clearing, far from the packed ground. Scarlett jumped out; her head was pounding since her run-in encounter with Lucas. The night air was cool, but the rush of adrenaline kept her warm.
Rachel staggered out of the car, gasping for breath. "That was way too close for comfort, Scarlett," she panted. "We just barely made it out without their noticing."
Scarlett's fists were dug into her body when she tried to will her heart to evict the elephant that seemed to be having a disco in there. She watched the look of shock on Lucas's face, and she couldn't help the bitter satisfaction that filled her. But there lay beneath it all something else, something she did not want to admit—guilt.
"I know," Scarlett muttered, trying to shove the sensation of doom right out of her. "But we did it. We hit them where it hurts."
Alex was busy offloading the purloined supplies. His movements were measured and emotionless. "Lucas won't let this slide," he volunteered calmly, clearly but firmly. "He'll come after us. Hard."
Scarlett nodded, her jaw hardening. "Let him. This is just the beginning. He needs to know what losing everything feels like."
Rachel watched her, and in her eyes, concern flickered. "Are you seriously okay with this, Scarlett? Lucas. he'd been your friend once."
"Friend." Scarlet's heart twisted at the word, but she forced herself to keep on track. "That was a long time ago, Rachel. He made his choice, and now I'm making mine."
Rachel nodded, though doubt stayed there in her eyes. "Just please don't let this consume you, okay? I don't want to lose you to this revenge."
Scarlett didn't say a thing, turning instead to Alex, who was already collecting the supplies. "Get those to the safe house," she instructed, "and make sure to have them secure."
Alex listened when he nodded lightly and started putting the items into a smaller, tucked-away cache. At this, Scarlett found her gaze drawn to the dark, her mind aloof once more to Lucas—how he had seemed when looking into her eyes at that discovery: anger, betrayal, and something else she could not put a finger on, his constant haunting.
Her chest tightened from two emotions that were pulling in different directions. It had been so long that she had been desperate to have the time to get even, and now, all of a sudden, it felt different than the aching in her mind had concocted. It was messy, complicated, and there were things boiling that she had not been prepared to face.
But it was now too late to retrace herself. She had entered upon this, and she was going to see it through to the end.
---
At first light, Scarlett stood on a hill above town. The embellished terrain lay beneath her breast like a map lain over the face of the land since the sun came, wrapping the land in golden blankets—heavy laden Scarlett's heart with what this place used to mean to her.
Home. She had loved this place before everything went sour, before Lucas had betrayed her. The people in it she used to love, but now it was nothing more than a battlefield.
Lucas had spent the night at the safe house, tossing and turning, not able to fall asleep. Each time he closed his eyes, he saw Scarlett's face, the disbelief in her eyes as she had entered.
"Scarlett."
The woman turned toward Rachel approaching. Her face was pale, and it was clear something was wrong. "We've got trouble; Lucas's organization is rolling out against us," she said, through tightened vocal cords.
Scarlett's heart raced, but she had to get out of her own head. "How many?" she asked tensely.
"Enough. They know we took their supplies. They are out for blood."
Scarlett gulped down the lump forming in her throat; for now, her mind raced. This she had thought would come way too soon. This was pacing too fast for her. She had expected him to be cautious and choreograph his move—damn, it seemed she had really underestimated him.
"We have to move. Gather everyone. We can't let them catch us off guard." There was a sharp edge to her voice, the timbre interlaced with qualities of urgency slicing through the shot of fear, quieting her insides.
Rachel nodded and scampered down the hill to where the remainder of their small group had clustered. Scarlett turned back toward the town below, her heart pounding with a mixture of fear and determination. She had wanted to hurt Lucas, to make him suffer, but now that the battle was coming to her, she wasn't sure she was ready for it.
But ready, willing or not, it was on the way. The fight was on, and she could not find a means of escape.
By the time Scarlett and her group had finally clambered up to the edge of the mountain on the fringes of the forest, the sun was high in the sky, on its way down—it was where they'd make their stand. It was a small band, outnumbered and outgunned, but Scarlett wasn't about to let that stop her; she had come too far to back down now.
Rachel stood, tense and alert, close beside her while Alex settled himself on the other side, his face unreadable. She could feel the weight of their expectation bearing down on her like a foregone conclusion, the pressure with which to lead them through this.
Suddenly, from deep within, a rustle sounded, and Scarlett tensed, her heart in her chest almost sprinting into her throat. There was Ethan—only Ethan, one of Lucas's closest friends. He stormed out from deep in the bush; his face looking quite ugly, cold gray eyes running over everybody.
"Ethan," Scarlett said, the tone wary. "What brings you here?"
He towered over her, his expression granite-like. "Lucas knows you're here, Scarlett. He told me to come talk: maybe try and make this all right before it goes past the point of no return."
Scarlett narrowed her eyes at him. "Make it right? Did you come to negotiate this for us?"
Ethan shook his head. "No, Scarlett. He told me to give you the last chance to leave. He won't harm you if you let him go. It's what you force him to do."
Scarlett's chest tightened with anger. "He has already hurt me, Ethan. He took away everything from me, and now he wants to play nice?"
His eyes softened, but only just. "You don't understand, Scarlett. Lucas. He's been through a lot. He didn't have a choice."
"There's always a choice," Scarlett lashed back, her voice quivering with emotion. "And he made his. Now I'm making mine."
Ethan drew out a long, tired breath. "Well, then that's that. But keep in mind, Scarlett. Lucas never did want this."
He wheeled and strode back into the treeline as Scarlett stood there with her heart pounding, the centripetal anger, fear, and something desperately close to regret.
Rachel touched her arm. "Are you okay?"
Scarlett nodded, her throat tight. "Yeah. Let's just get ready."
---
The moment his pack could be seen, tension aroused on the field. Her heart raced on seeing them approaching almost noiselessly, moving in rhythm. In the lead was Lucas, the sharp eyes on her blue fire.
Time seemed to hold its breath for just a moment. Scarlett could feel how he stared at her, how tangible the fight was in his eyes. Not that she could let that matter; she still had work to do.
She breathed deeply, rising to signal her group members to get ready on their toes. Lucas stopped feet away from her, expressionless. They stood there for a second—one facing the other, with the words left un-liturgy between the spaces.
Then without any alert, Lucas dashed forward—battle on.
There was something in his blows he could not describe; it just felt that Scarlett met his attacks without reluctance, coming into collision with his strokes totally, with the bodies of them finding coordination in a manner that tremored the ground. She felt the energy in his moves, the pure force that was him.
But Scarlett wasn't the same girl she used to be. She had been made, forged even, and she was not going to let Lucas take her down. She fought back with everything she had in her. Her claws flashing in the sunlight, going for him.
Lucas didn't let up, being persistent with his attacks, which were ferocious and measured. Scarlett could feel the pressure in her muscles, exhaustion creeping up from behind, but she wouldn't quit now. This was what she had trained for, what she had been dreaming of for years.
But as it dragged on and on, something changed. It wasn't until the attacks began to falter in Lucas's gaze, the hesitation of his movement, that Scarlett could quantify what he was doing. He didn't try to beat her with all his will, and the stubborn part of her decided she should probably be angry about it.
"Fight me, Lucas!" she screamed. Her voice had gone raspy from emotion. "Fight me like you mean it!"
It was almost as though discomfort was flashing within his eyes, but Lucas said nothing, continuing to twist away, his breath uneven, gaze still locked to hers.
"Scarlett, please," he rasped. "This is not what I want."
The words hit Scarlett like a blow to the stomach, and for one moment she staggered. But the memories flooded her, all the betrayal, loss, and pain of her past, and she hardened up her resolve.
"It is what I want," she spat, flying at him with renewed rage.
But before she reached him, Lucas was too quick with his manning technique for her eyes to catch it. She stumbled as she plowed forward: her own weight threw her to the ground, but before she could get to her feet, he had her smashed to the ground, his body weight over hers.
Scarlett struggled, her heart racing with a mixture of fear and frustration. She felt his breath against her neck, heard the racing beat of his heart, but no matter how hard.