CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
REED’S POV
DONE
I haven’t seen Scarlet since that Saturday night. It’s Wednesday evening now, and somehow that feels heavier than it should. Four days isn’t long. It shouldn’t matter. It shouldn’t sit in my chest like unfinished business. But it does. It lingers. It claws. It makes me replay every second of that night; the way Saul’s hand stayed on her waist too long, the way her smile looked rehearsed, the way her eyes begged me not to interfere while her body language screamed the opposite.
I should have listened to her.
She warned me. More than once. In different ways. Sometimes directly. Sometimes in that quiet, exhausted tone she uses when she doesn’t have the energy to explain herself anymore.
So why the hell did I try to play hero?
Maybe because I’ve alway
