Scarlett Savage Novels & Stories

SCAR'S POV. Red. Then it's black. Who am I? Who am I? What am I? Kill. Kill her. No....stop it stop talking to me. Moonlight? Where are you? It's like loosing control. The darkness slowly evolving. No... stop. Stop it. Who are you Scarlet...? Control. Everything. Control. Scarlet is Scarlet. (Authors mid-note: it's kinda confusing I know. Bit that's the whole deal. To be confused ;) )

Then the doors opened. And the room froze. The scent hit first. Cold. Familiar. Rotten with ambition. Uninvited. Whispers rippled through the hall as a woman stepped inside, dark hair framing a face that carried too many secrets and too much blood. The one person who started this whole game amongst Alphas, pushing them apart, forcing them to take sides, allowing rogues to consume our place without bothering for a second to think about the consequences. Hell, she was the consequence. Katherine.

Carmen was the first person to talk about it after the news broke. The silence of the Crescent Moon fortress was a lie. To my advisors, the halls were quiet, but to me, the air was screaming. It had been days since Sara—my "Little Miss Blue Eyes"—had been ripped from the sanctuary I had promised her. Every hour that passed felt like a serrated blade drawing across my skin, a slow, agonizing flaying of my sanity.

“You can have a lot of fun taming her. We'll start at fifty thousand for her price.” I casually looked at the slave in question, studying her. My mind jolted as I caught sight of her face. Her dark hair, her soft features. Her beautiful but strained body, the pain and exhaustion on her face. Spice? Her name was not Spice. It was Marlowe. Marlowe Sage Kunetsov. I could never forget. What the fuck was she doing here? I inhaled slowly to call my racing heart. I was not supposed to be reacting this way. She was not supposed to be drawing this kind of reaction from me. At least, not anymore.

She looked like she had been dragged through the mud. Mrs. Smith asked crossly, “What happened?” Chavonne pouted and was about to complain when I interrupted first, lowering my lashes pitifully. “Mrs. Smith, it seems everyone has misunderstood the contents of our conversation yesterday. I still don’t know why you suddenly singled me out, but like you said, the girl in the photo has a mole on her neck, and I don’t. “You’ll bear witness for me, won’t you? Surely you won’t side with Chavonne just because she’s your daughter.”

Suddenly my laptop screen flashed and someone's voice laughed loudly "Ha-ha-ha. Murderer! You are a murderer! Azalea the murderer! You will never live in peace! I'm sure of that!" I stared in shock at the laptop screen which had pictures of skulls and knives and flowing blood and — "Aa! David!"

I didn't even shake nor did my brain doubt me when those words left my lips. He stared at me in disbelief. He did not believe me. But it didn't matter. If he believed me or not. The truth remained that I wasn't Scarlett anymore. I was now Melati, the red haired fashion designer that opened in town newly. Daughter of Samuel Wolfe. The Scarlett he knew was dead. She drowned in the stream a year ago. He scanned me all over, his eyes lingering on my hair and searching my face. He must have just realized the new changes and questioned his memory because he tilted back the next second.

The only question was: how far was she willing to go to succeed? *** 'Drip, drop' the blood of her enemies echoed in Scarlett's mind as she made her way to the armory. She needed to gather weapons and gear for her mission. As she walked among the swords, guns, and various killing tools, she could feel her heart racing with excitement and anticipation. This seemed to be where she felt most alive - in the midst of danger, armed and ready to fight. As she strapped on a leather holster and adjusted her knives, a sudden thought crossed her mind. How far was she truly willing to go for this mission? Was there a line she wouldn't cross?

"Some men like feisty women. Armo has announced this all to the bidders by the simple act of letting you wear this costume." "At least I should be satisfied that he is trying to get rid of me," Sarah said in obvious sarcasm. "True, but you are a special item now." Anita continued. "la vedova nera is rather hard to come by. No nun has drawn the blood of a guard for years, or ruffled Armo’s feathers this bad before." "So, all because I stabbed a guard with a fork, I'm now termed feisty and untamed?" She asked in disbelief. "And that devil's incarnate is going to sell me to the highest bidder ever?"

“You’ve made Ryan blush, you dirty slut!” Sandra smiles at you, then thankfully changes the subject to put you out of your misery. “So Ryan, which famous person would you choose?” You think about it for a moment. “Uh, I dunno… maybe Scar Son?” “Good choice!” says Laura. “Yeah, good choice,” agrees Sandra. “You know, I think I’d probably turn lesbian for Scar Son. How about you, Laura?” Laura shrugs. “Maybe. I bet she eats pussy like a pro.”