Scarlett Grey Novels & Stories

Krister asked, looking at his tablet still before walking to the back room. “Black? She doesn’t-- I mean didn’t wear anything else?” she asked, her eyebrows meeting in the middle confused. “Don’t tell me she’s one of those people…” “Yes, specifically black clothing. They’re hot in the day but you disappear in the night. That’s what she always said to me.” Krister disappeared in the back to get something whilst Rojean was left there to contemplate on her own how she was going to pull the act off if she was a bad liar herself.

It was built for tense meetings: stone walls, silver-reinforced doors, one table, two exits, no windows large enough to shift through. The woman waiting inside looked nothing like Victoria. She was older, perhaps forty, with cropped black hair threaded with gray and a scar running from the corner of her mouth to her jaw. Her clothes were plain border gear, soaked through from travel. Silver cuffs locked her wrists to the table, but she sat upright, eyes sharp and exhausted. She looked at Daniel first. Then at me. “Scarlett Hayes,” she said. “Name.” “Anya Black.” Daniel’s expression changed. “Black Thorn bloodline.”

"They pulled a liter of fluid out of your pleural space. They said the cells they found weren't just inflamed. They were... changing. Crystallizing." "The Grey," I whispered. My voice was a ghost of itself, a raspy tear in the quiet room. "My body is turning into a monument to a pack that hates me. Funny, isn't it?" Silas finally looked at me. His amber eyes were flat, devoid of the pity I’d grown to loathe. "It’s inefficient. You’re no use to me as a corpse, Elara. We have a bridge to build and an empire to dismantle." He stood up and walked over, placing a thin, sleek laptop on my over-bed table. He didn't offer a hand to help me reach it. He knew I’d rather crawl across broken glass than

He got into his black Bentley and drove off in a rush. The headlights vanished into the dark. Only then did I take the pregnancy test out of my pocket. Two clean pink lines stared back at me. I rested a hand over my stomach and closed my eyes. I had wanted to give Adrian our child as part of my vows. Now I wouldn’t tell him a thing. In forty-eight hours, Scarlett Moretti would die at her own wedding.

The dream came heavy and cold. Scarlet stood in a hospital corridor, barefoot, the fluorescent lights buzzing above her. She could smell blood and antiseptic. The air tasted like metal. Through a glass window, she saw herself — Katherina — lying on an operating table. Her skin was pale, her hair matted with blood. The sound of heart monitors bled into muffled voices. “Her pulse is fading.” “We’re losing her.” Then another voice cut through, sharp and steady. A woman’s voice.

Disgusting! Scarlet, still on the balcony, wore an expression carved in pain, sadness, and desolation. She suddenly stood up and stood on the tall balcony high up in the air. She slowly closed her eyes as silent tears rolled down her cheeks, and she opened her arms—as if she was about to fly—and leaned forward. She was just about to jump off when out of the blue, a black figure shot down from above and gave her a kick. Scarlet—who was about to fall—was instantly kicked back in. She fell backward, followed by a loud crashing sound, while the black figure shot down swiftly, akin to a typical spy.

Maggie stated and he dumped Scarlett’s body into a big bath, Maggie closed the door and they sat outside while Scarlett began healing from the water. “Who did this to her?” Maggie asked shocked at Scarlett current state. “That wrench” Gabrielle cursed, she couldn’t shake the thought that Livey had powers which was clearly impossible. ‘What kind of wolf is she?’ She asked herself. Gabrielle was just a pink wolf and Scarlett was a red wolf, most girls had just a few other exquisite colour and that was all, none was heard to have powers like what she saw Livey bear. She was at total lost when they fought because of the powers she had, her only saving game was the mistletoe knife which helped he

The rain poured in sheets over New York City, drumming against the glass walls of the penthouse like a warning. Inside, the atmosphere was equally stormy charged with tension, grief, and a deepening fear that no one dared give voice to. Scarlett sat alone in the bedroom now, wrapped in one of Sebastian’s hooded sweatshirts. Her eyes were locked on a faded photograph Damien had uncovered an old black-and-white image of a woman with hauntingly familiar eyes, holding two infants. Her hands trembled as she traced the woman's face with her fingertip.

Scarlet nodded, the hands melted away, and she stood back as October and Harlow took their revenge. Scarlet smiled down at Coraline when they were done. "Honestly. Selina, Mariah, Rose, Coraline, or whatever you call yourself. I don't know how you did it. Pretending to be so many people, but killing you will feel so fucking good. Especially after how you betrayed all of us, who truly cared for you." Scarlet laughed, her true side showing. Her purple eyes burned away as purple flames took their place. Her hair was now completely on fire and a scythe appeared in her hand.

Even now, as I lay upon the gleaming white floor of Moose Creek’s medical centre, sedative spilling through my veins and blood streaming from my chest, photos of the futures forking from this moment blinded me. I saw Scarlett stood amidst the dead, the only survivor in a war she’d never asked for. I saw her bent over her mate’s body, sobs wracking through her. Then I saw her fumble for the outstretched claws of a fallen werewolf and use them to slit her own throat.