Chapter 2: A Writer’s Curse

Kai’s POV

The rain poured like liquid steel, soaking through my clothes and chilling me to the bone, but I didn’t care. I had never been one to run toward chaos, but this time, something inside me wouldn’t let me turn back.

Her.

She was lightning incarnate, raw and electrifying, cutting through the storm like it didn’t exist. Her strides were long and purposeful, her posture taut with a lethal kind of grace that screamed: Do not mess with me.

And yet, here I was. Following her into the kind of darkness I’d only ever written about.

The man she chased stumbled ahead, glancing over his shoulder with the frantic, cornered look of prey. His movements were clumsy and erratic, no match for the predator trailing him. I should’ve left it alone. It wasn’t my business, and I wasn’t a hero. Hell, I wasn’t even particularly brave.

But there was something about her that hooked me and reeled me in—a force I couldn’t ignore even if I tried.

She pursued him into a narrow alley, her boots splashing against the puddles with precision. I lingered at the edge of the shadows, watching as she closed in on him.

The man backed into the brick wall at the end of the alley, his breath ragged and his eyes wide with terror.

“Scarlet, please,” he begged, his voice breaking. “I didn’t mean to cross you. I just need more time. I can fix this!”

Scarlet.

The name suited her. Sharp, seductive, and undeniably dangerous.

She didn’t respond right away. Instead, she tilted her head slightly, studying him with an eerie calm that made even me shiver. Her hand moved slowly, deliberately, to the hilt of the knife strapped to her thigh. The glint of its blade caught the faint streetlight, a wicked promise in her hands.

“Time?” she finally said, her voice soft but cutting through the rain like a blade. “Time isn’t something you can steal from me, Charles. And you know better than to ask for something I don’t have.”

Her tone was calm, but the undercurrent of menace was unmistakable.

Charles whimpered, pressing himself further into the wall as if he could somehow disappear into the bricks. “Please. I swear, I’ll—”

“Save it,” she interrupted coldly. Her knife was out now, balanced in her hand like it was an extension of herself. “You’ve already used up every ounce of grace I’ve ever had.”

I should’ve walked away. I should’ve turned and disappeared into the rain, left her and her victim to their dark business. But I couldn’t.

Instead, I stepped forward, the sound of my shoes hitting the wet pavement breaking the tension like a bullet.

“You always handle your arguments with a knife?” I asked, my voice calm despite the adrenaline coursing through my veins.

She froze, her body going rigid as her head snapped toward me. For a second, her eyes widened in surprise, and I caught a glimpse of something unguarded—something vulnerable—before her mask slammed back into place.

“You,” she said, her voice lower now, almost dangerous. “What the hell are you doing here?”

I smirked. “You left in such a hurry. Thought I’d see where the fire was.”

Her lips curled into a slow, sardonic smile. “You followed me.”

“Curiosity,” I admitted. “It’s a writer’s curse.”

Scarlet stared at me for a beat longer, her knife still in her hand. “This isn’t your world, stranger. You should leave while you still can.”

Her voice was calm, but her words carried an unspoken threat that sent a chill down my spine.

I should’ve listened to her. Every instinct I had screamed at me to back off and disappear. But instead, I stepped closer, my gaze locked on hers.

“Funny thing about curses,” I said. “Once you have them, it’s hard to shake them off.”

Scarlet’s smile faded, replaced by a sharp, assessing look. “You have no idea what you’ve just stepped into.”

“No,” I said. “But I’d like to find out.”

Her eyes narrowed, and I could see the wheels turning in her mind. She was deciding whether I was worth the trouble—or whether she should end it here.

Before either of us could say more, the man—Charles—took advantage of the distraction. With a sudden burst of courage, or desperation, he darted past her and disappeared into the rain.

Scarlet didn’t flinch, didn’t even try to stop him. Her focus remained solely on me.

“Congratulations,” she said dryly. “You just cost me a loose end.”

“I’ll take that as a ‘thank you,’” I said, unbothered by the icy glare she shot me.

She slipped the knife back into its sheath, her movements sharp and efficient. “You’re an idiot.”

“Probably.” I crossed my arms, leaning casually against the alley wall. “But at least I’m an interesting one.”

Scarlet stared at me, her expression unreadable. For a moment, I thought she might just walk away. Instead, she stepped closer, her boots splashing in the puddles until she was barely a foot away from me.

The air between us was thick with tension, crackling with something electric.

“You want to know who I am?” she asked, her voice low and dangerous.

“Yes,” I said, not missing a beat.

She tilted her head, studying me like she was trying to figure out what made me tick. Then, with a small, dangerous smile, she turned on her heel and walked away.

“Follow me,” she said without looking back. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Her words hung in the air like a challenge, and I couldn’t resist taking the bait.

I followed her into the storm, knowing full well I was stepping into a world that could chew me up and spit me out.

And yet, I couldn’t bring myself to care.

Because Scarlet Vayne wasn’t just a story.

She was the kind of story that could ruin a man—and I was already hers to destroy.

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