HER SIN

WARNING: ENTER AT YOUR OWN RISK.

Before you dive in, a fair warning: this is a fast-paced, spine-chilling ride filled with morally gray characters, chilling experiments, and the haunting reality of what it takes to survive.

It contains graphic Sex/Explicit Content, moral Ambiguity/Unsettling Themes, graphic Gore/Violence, mature Themes/Disturbing Content and dark Humor/Uncomfortable Situation.

The first few chapters might be relieving but after...I won't say more.

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Beware of Graphic gore/Violence.

Thursday, September 5th.

Twelve Years ago,

Ten-year-old Scarlett lay curled up in the corner of a cage.

You heard that right. Not a cell, but a literal cage, as if she were some animal on display.

The cold metal bars dug into her frail body, her knees pressed to her chest.

The air was suffocating, thick with the coppery scent of blood and the sour stench of sweat.

Around her, rows of other cages stretched endlessly, each holding children just like her. Most of their eyes were hollow, luckily having already lost hope.

The rest?

They clung to it desperately, even though it only made the fall harder.

A rustling sound suddenly came from beside her, and she squeezed her eyes shut.

"Hey." a boy's hoarse whisper broke through the silence.

Her body stiffened, but she didn't answer.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice cracking, as if he hadn't spoken in days.

But she still didn't respond. She barely even moved.

He crawled closer, the dirt on his face streaked with tears and desperation. "I'm talking to you. Are you..."

Her eyes suddenly snapped open.

Before he could say another word, she launched herself at him.

Her small frame moved with the ferocity of a wild animal, a blur of sharp teeth and clawing hands.

Her jaws latched onto his throat.

"Aghhh!" The boy's scream tore through the silence.

She bit down harder, her teeth sinking deep into his flesh. His blood flooded her mouth, hot, metallic and intoxicating.

"Stop! Please!" he gasped, thrashing beneath her.

But she didn't stop. Her nails dug into his shoulders, pinning him down. Months of starvation had stripped her of all reasoning. She didn't see a boy. She saw meat.

How long had it even been?

Six. Seven months?

She wasn't even sure anymore.

She'd been kept alive by only the drugs pumped into her veins, keeping her just barely breathing while her stomach practically gnawed at itself.

She wasn't living, she was surviving.

Her jaws locked, her teeth scraping his vein, and she bit down again, tearing into his flesh.

"Ahhh..." the boy's scream broke into a gurgle as blood bubbled from his throat. His struggles weakened, his body twitching under her grip.

Around them, the other children watched. Some didn't react, their expressions dead, while others drooled with envy.

She didn't care either. The hunger that roared at her veins drowned everything else.

The boy's pulse began weakening, but she just kept sucking.

And then finally...his eyes rolled back as his body went limp. He was dead.

Still, she didn't stop. She tore a strip of flesh from his neck and chewed, swallowing greedily.

The metallic tang coated her tongue, and her primal instincts overrode any trace of humanity she once had...or thought she had.

Suddenly, a loud creak echoed through the room.

She froze, blood dripping from her lips, as the heavy metal door swung open.

Two burly guards entered, their faces expressionless.

One immediately pointed a thick finger at her. "You. Come with us."

She glanced up and locked eyes with him. Without hesitation, she rose to her feet.

The boy's lifeless body slumped to the ground, his mangled throat a mess of exposed flesh and bone.

The guard stepped closer, his eyes narrowing as he smirked, flashing his bright yellow teeth. "You've got some bite in you, huh?"

She tilted her head and smiled back, a wide, maniacal grin that made him falter for a split second. The blood that stained her teeth, glinted under the dim light, adding to the ominous vibe.

"You brat!" The second guard shoved her hard from behind, his boot slamming into her back. "What are you smiling about? Better keep that attitude when you meet the scientists."

Scarlett stumbled forward, catching herself on the bars of the cage.

But instead of crying out, she laughed. A low, unsettling sound that echoed in the tense silence, then as fast as she started, she stopped. "You don't have to tell me. I plan to."

For some reason, hearing her words sent a chill down their spines. Why did it feel like they were talking to some sick bastard instead of a little girl? Had one of them finally lost it?

He shook his head. No, how could it be? How could he be getting chills from a little girl?

With a scowl, he kicked her again, harder this time.

She fell to her knees but still kept laughing.

Looking up at him, she clapped her hands. "Do it again, do it again."

He hesitated. Seems something was really wrong with her?

"Come on!" she goaded. "Is that all you've got?"

"Shut up and walk." the first guard growled, dragging her to her feet.

She pouted but complied, walking silently as they led her out of the cages, shutting it behind her.

They then led her up the creaking wooden stairs and into a blindingly bright hallway.

The stark white walls and sterile air were a sharp contrast to the filth she'd just been living in.

Men and women in clean, pressed lab coats bustled past, their faces blank and gazes cold. Armed guards stood at intervals, machine guns slung across their chests.

Scarlett didn't even bother looking around and just kept her head low, but the corners of her mouth twitched, her grin threatening to resurface.

After walking for what felt like ages, they stopped at a door marked Lab 12B.

The door hissed open and the metallic scent of blood immediately hit her like a punch.

The room was dim, with only a single bulb hanging over a surgical bed and the soft beeping of a monitor being the only sound that cut through the silence.

On the bed lay a boy, no older than eight, his body a mangled wreck.

His hands had been cut off, ears sliced off, and one eye even missing. His toes were gone too, leaving only bloody stumps and all over his body was a patchwork of scars.

Chains held him to the bed, preventing any movement, though he only twitched now.

Wires were pierced into his skin, some pumping a strange dark liquid into his veins, while others drew his blood out. A thick metal pipe was drilled deep into his skull from below, like a grotesque machine keeping him just barely alive.

Scarlett's eyes lingered on him, her grin fading into something colder, more calculating.

Three scientists stood in the room, their eyes weary. They were all around forty, with eyes bloodshot from exhaustion but tinged with a bit of madness that couldn't be hidden.

One of them stood near a table filled with experimenting equipment.

In one of the tubes, Scarlett caught sight of several severed toes floating in a murky liquid. The lady dropped a vial of blood into the test tube, watching intently as it swirled into an ominous shade of red.

The second scientist stood to the side, flipping through some papers. "The subject shows resilience." He muttered, then flipped another page and frowned. "But it seems the cellular decay is increasing."

"Increase input by 20%." The last scientist, standing beside the bed, a woman with dark hair, broke the silence, her eyes narrowing as she watched the boy convulse.

"Increasing input by 20%." repeated a robotic AI voice.

The boy's body arched as the machine's hum intensified, the heart rate monitor beginning to beep faster.

His pale face twisted in agony, veins bulging beneath his skin, as the clanking of chains echoed in the lab.

The woman frowned. "Increase input by 40%."

Again, the boy's body jerked violently, the chains rattling as he thrashed around.

His one eye snapped open, revealing a pure white iris covered in blood-red veins and filled with pain.

His body twitched uncontrollably. It felt like thousands of volts were surging through him, destroying him cell by cell before repairing itself and repeating the process again.

He screamed out in pain but not a single sound was heard in the lab, due to the noise prevention device placed over his mouth. The room was only filled with the relentless beeping of the monitor as the scientists watched without a hint of emotion.

"Increase blood output by 90%." the same lady ordered again, her voice calm, as if a child wasn't dying in front of her.

"Subject's blood output has reduced by 20%. Cells have reached their limit." The AI's voice echoed again.

The woman's eyes narrowed.,

She leaned forward slightly, staring straight at the boy.

The boy's one eye also stared back at her, his expression a mix of horror, fear and hatred.

"Fascinating," She finally muttered, her lips twitching upwards.

"Increase blood output by 30% and input by 95%" she commanded, straightening back as if deaf to whatever the AI had just said.

The beeping of the monitor turned even louder as the boy's eye turned bloodshot, dark veins popping out on his face.

Blood oozed from his mouth, nose, eyes, and ears as his body spasmed, his limbs jerking in all directions, but the clanking chains were the only sound of his torment.

Finally, he reached his peak as his body bucked up once, his eyes rolling back, before limply falling back on the bed with a dull thud.

At this point, the monitor's beeping sound stopped, turning into a flat line.

"Subject 2999 has reached his absolute limit. Cells 1% corrupted by PX-02 serum." the AI announced.

"Another failure." The male scientist muttered, jotting something down on his clipboard. He didn't even spare a glance at the lifeless body. To them, he was nothing more than another failed experiment, a number on their list.

"Well, it isn't technically a failure." The dark haired lady retorted. "We made progress and we can use the data." Her gaze flicked to the other female scientist. "Dispose it immediately."

The lady nodded, clicking a button on the wall.

Scarlett watched as a man in black overalls suddenly walked into the room.

He strode past her and the guards without a word, heading straight for the body.

He unchained him, before stuffing the corpse into a large black bag as if handling something no more significant than a pile of trash.

Zipping the bag shut, he slung it over his shoulder and turned to leave.

"Wait." Scarlett suddenly walked in front of him, blocking his path.

He paused, raising an eyebrow. "What's the problem, little girl? Are you trying to play hero or s..."

"Can I taste it?"

The room immediately went still.

The man blinked, a bit confused. "What did you just say?"

"I asked if I could taste the meat. These two uncles wanted to play with me but disrupted my meal." She pointed at the two guards, then rubbed her stomach. "And Scarlett still very hungry."

"Hahaha..." The dark haired lady immediately burst into laughter, wiping tears from her eyes. "Interesting. Really interesting."

Scarlett tilted her head. Why was she laughing like some moron? Did she hear a joke or what?

After a while, the woman finally stopped and waved the man off. "Jeremy, you may go."

The man nodded, striding towards the door, but he couldn't help giving one last glance at the strange girl before finally walking out.

Once he was gone, the lady crouched in front of Scarlett, her cold eyes studying the blood smeared across her face.

"It's your turn now, test subject 3000." she hissed, a cruel smile curling at her lips. "Just my lucky number."

Scarlett tilted her head, her lips also curling into a grin, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Lucky for whom? You..." Her voice turned into a growl. "Or me?!"

(BEWARE OF GRAPHIC GORE AND VIOLENCE)

Present day.

Rome, Italy.

The entire room felt heavy with the aura of death. It clung to the walls of the villa like smoke, suffocating everyone except the woman sitting at the head of the table.

Scarlett, draped in a blood-red dress that clung to her figure like a second skin, exuded an air of deadly calm. The leather gloves on her hands glistened faintly, in silent preparation of what was to come.

Across the table, the man responsible for tonight's meeting, a bald middle-aged thief named Eduardo Costa, squirmed in his chair, his trembling hands tightly bound to the steel chair.

He'd dared to skim profits from one of her operations, an offense she considered worse than betrayal.

Betrayal could be managed, sometimes even forgiven.

But theft? That was a challenge, and there was nothing she loved more than putting challenges in their place.

She crossed one leg over the other, the tap of her stiletto heels echoing through the room. "Eduardo," she started, her voice deceptively sweet. "Do you know why you're here?"

He swallowed hard, his face pale. "Ms. Russo, I..."

Scarlett's laughter suddenly rang out, cutting him off. It was cold, sharp and completely void of humor. "Ms. Russo? Oh, Eduardo, how gentlemanly, but my name is Scarlett now, remember. 'Ms. Russo' died three years ago, so you should address me properly. Or have you forgotten the lesson I taught your predecessor?"

Beads of sweat rolled down his temple, tracing the line of his unkempt beard. His mouth opened, but no words came, more like, couldn't come out.

"I'll remind you," she continued, leaning forward, her dark eyes locking onto his. "It took me four days to break his mind, Eduardo. Four days to make him beg for death. Do you think you'll last longer?"

Eduardo's lip trembled. "It was a mistake! I didn't mean to..."

She raised a hand, silencing him instantly. She turned her gaze to Luca, her trusted tech genius and confidant, who stood silently at her side. "Did you bring it?"

Luca nodded, smirking faintly, as he slowly produced a small black box from nowhere and placed it on the table.

Scarlett quickly opened it, revealing a scalpel, a pair of pliers, and a syringe filled with an ominous green liquid.

Eduardo's breath immediately hitched, his body trembling.

She slowly traced a finger along the blade of the scalpel. "Do you know what this is, Eduardo?" she asked, holding up the syringe.

He shook his head frantically.

"This," She said, her voice dropping to a whisper, "is something Luca designed just for me. It's a neurotoxin that paralyzes the body but leaves the nerves exquisitely sensitive, amazing, right? With this every. Single. Touch. Feels like fire."

Eduardo whimpered, his hands clutching the edge of the table as if it could save him.

Scarlett stood up, circling the table, her heels clicking in a rhythm that matched the pounding of his heart.

When she reached him, she leaned down, her lips brushing against his ear. "But you're in luck. I won't start with this. No, I like to play with my pets first."

She straightened.

Without warning, her hand suddenly snapped out and grabbed his wrist. Then with an unnatural strength that seemed almost impossible for her slender frame, she slammed it on the table, forming a visible crack on the obsidian table.

"AHHHHH!' Eduardo screamed, his voice raw and rough.

She stood up and one of her men immediately handed her a hammer without even needing to be asked.

Collecting the hammer, she stepped closer to him. "Let's make this simple," she whispered, her voice smooth like silk. "Who helped you?"

His eyes widened.

How did she know someone helped him?

Tears immediately began spilling down his cheeks again. "I-I don't..."

CRACK!

The hammer came down on his fingers with a sickening crunch, the sound of bone shattering echoing through the room.

"AHHHHH!" he groaned loudly, his face contorting in pain as he uselessly writhed against the restraints.

Scarlett's smile widened.

Before he could react, she brought the hammer down again, then again, until his hand was little more than a mangled mess of flesh and bone.

By now, Eduardo's voice had gone hoarse from screaming. His breaths came in sharp, shallow gasps as he stared at his mangled hand.

Blood seeped from the shattered bones, pooling on the floor. "P-please," he whimpered. "No more, I beg you!"

Scarlett laughed slowly. "Begging already? How predictable."

She swung the hammer again.

"ARGH!" His scream was even louder this time, a piercing cry of pain that made even the guards flinch.

She tilted her head, watching as the blood dripped from the hammer's edge as if fascinated by it.

Then, she tossed the hammer aside and picked up the scalpel as she crouched to meet his tear-filled eyes. "Tell me Eduardo," she began, placing a hand on his cheek and helping him wipe his tears. "Is it really worth it? Aren't you tired or shall I move on to your knees?"

"Please...i...i'm sorry b-but you don't...you dont un..."

Scarlett tilted her head, her patience wearing thin.

Luca suddenly cleared his throat. "Queen, may I?"

She gestured for him to proceed.

He leaned down, his face inches from Eduardo's. "Let me make it simple for you. Answer the Queen's question, or I'll make sure your family gets the next invitation to this table. And trust me, Queen has a soft spot for children. Especially their screams."

That seemed to break him. "It was Dario! Dario Velucci! He said you wouldn't notice the missing shipments!"

Scarlett's eyes narrowed, her expression unreadable. "Dario Velucci," she repeated, tasting the name like venom on her tongue. "Interesting."

She stepped away, turning her back to him as if he no longer existed. "Kill him."

"No! You.."

His protests were immediately cut short by the single crack of a gunshot.

Scarlett watched as his body slumped to the ground, blood pooling beneath the table.

She turned to Luca, who was already holding a clean towel for her gloves. "Clean this up," she ordered, collecting the towel. "And send a message to Dario. Let him know the queen is coming."

He nodded, immediately leaving to pass out the orders.

She returned to her seat, wiping her gloves clean, when the doors suddenly swung open.

Russo, her master, strode in, his presence commanding.

He glanced at the lifeless body on the floor before looking at Scarlett with an approving smile.

"La mia piccola protetta, efficiente come sempre," (My little protégée, efficient as always,) his deep voice rumbled through the room. "Non smetti mai di ricordare al mondo perché sei la mia arma più potente." (You never fail to remind the world why you're my greatest weapon.)

Scarlett raised a brow, crossing her legs. "Cosa vuoi, Russo?" (What do you want, Russo?)

He chuckled, slowly bringing out a folder. "Sei sempre stata in grado di vedermi attraverso." (You were always able to see through me.)

"Ho qualcosa per te, qualcosa che hai aspettato per quasi tutta la tua vita." (I have something for you, something you've been waiting for almost your whole life.) He handed her the folder.

She opened it, her eyes scanning the details of some Valmont High and a target.

---

NOME: KILLIAN BLACK. (NAME: KILLIAN BLACK.)

GENITORI: ISABELLA E MARIO BLACK. (PARENTS: ISABELLA AND MARIO BLACK.)

ETÀ: DICIOTTO ANNI. (AGE: EIGHTEEN YEARS OLD.)

SCUOLA: VALMONT HIGH. (SCHOOL: VALMONT HIGH.)

...

The information continued like that.

"Las Vegas?" (Las Vegas?) She suddenly murmured when she read the location.

"E perché mai avrei voluto fare la babysitter in una scuola superiore per tutta la mia vita." (And why exactly have I been wanting to play babysitter at a high school my whole life.)

Russo smirked. "Ricordi la mia promessa di tredici anni fa," (Remember my promise thirteen years ago?)

Her breath immediately hitched.

Of course she remembered, the promise was tied to her lifelong goal.

Thirteen years ago, when Russo had first rescued her, he'd promised to help her find the people responsible for all her miseries if she did one thing for him-serve him for ten years.

Scarlett who had nowhere else to go had of course immediately agreed.

Yet, even after thirteen years had passed, there was not a single idea about the group responsible for it, talk more of even a clue-at least not until now.

"Mi avevi promesso il nome di chi ha ucciso mia madre," (You promised me the name of the one who killed my mother), she retorted coldly. "E non mi sembra che abbia qualcosa a che fare con un ragazzo di diciotto anni che allora non aveva nemmeno cinque anni." (And I don't think that has anything to do with an eighteen-year-old kid who was barely even five then.)

Russo grinned. "Non c'entra, ma quel ragazzo è la chiave." (It doesn't, but that boy is the key.)

He paused. "Per darti quel nome, prima ho bisogno che tu vada a Las Vegas. Avvicinati a lui. E quando te lo dirò, lo ucciderai." (To give you the name, I need you to first go to Las Vegas. Get close to him. And when I need you to, you'll kill him.)

"In questo modo, io ottengo ciò che voglio e tu otterrai ciò che vuoi. La vendetta richiede pazienza, Scarlett. Hai aspettato tredici anni, cosa sono alcune settimane in più?" (That way, I get what I want, and you'll get what you want. Revenge takes patience, Scarlett. You've been waiting for thirteen years, what's a few more weeks?)

Scarlett's jaw clenched, her fingers tightening around the envelope. "Lo farò sanguinare," (I'll make it bloody.)

"That's my girl."

Scarlett stepped out of a sleek black car, her heels clicking against the cobblestones driveway.

She held out her keys and the valet, a nervous looking young man immediately scrambled forward, taking them from her hand.

"Take care of her," she said coolly.

He nodded nervously, his hands trembling as he held the keys tighter. "Enjoy your evening, Miss."

She didn't respond, simply nodding as she turned to the entrance.

Tonight was Bellagio's private casino annual club night.

A private gala night for the rich meant for unwinding. It was a very exclusive party and to keep the identity of everyone a secret, all the guests were expected to wear masks.

She was here because according to her sources, her target, Killian, would also be attending, apparently he had a 'soft spot' for these kinds of events.

How typical.

She just wanted to access him from afar first before their official meeting tomorrow. It was necessary to know the terrain before the battle.

Smirking faintly, her long red dress hugged every curve as she ascended the wide marble steps leading to the grand entrance. The slit in her dress swayed with each step, revealing just enough of her toned thigh to leave imaginations running wild.

At the door, she adjusted her mask-a delicate creation of black and gold filigree that hugged her face, emphasizing her sharp cheekbones and full red. The faintest smirk tugged at her lips as she pushed through the doors.

The gala was already in full swing.

The air was thick with the scent of aged whiskey and cigarette smoke. Crystal chandeliers glittered overhead, casting rainbow colors across the polished marble floors, while the steady hum of slot machines mingled with the low murmur conversations.

Men and women moved through the room, their faces covered by masks of gold, black, and silver. The masquerade was an annual affair for Las Vegas's elite, a chance to gamble without judgment and indulge in secrets that thrived in the anonymity of the night.

The moment she stepped in, she immediately felt the weight of a hundred eyes turn toward her.

"Who is that?"

"Never seen her before. Must be new money."

"She looks dangerous."

"Just what I was thinking. She doesn't look like someone you mess with."

"Well if you think about it, which of us is?"

Scarlett didn't need to look to know the effect she had; she could feel it. Her mere presence always demanded attention, her aura radiating power and danger.

Ignoring the stares, she cat walked her way to the bar, her heels clicking a rhythmic beat against the polished marble floor.

She held her head high, her lips curved into a faint smirk.

Sliding onto one of the high-backed stools, she crossed her legs effortlessly.

"Martinez," she said to the bartender.

He nodded, turning to prepare her drink.

Leaning her elbow on the counter, her gaze flicked over the room.

Men in tailored suits, women in flowing gowns-each face hidden behind a mask. They were all peacocks, preening for attention, desperate to outshine each other.

It was pathetic, really.

"Martinez? Make that two," a deep voice suddenly said from behind her, cutting through her thoughts like a blade.

Scarlett turned her head slowly, her dark eyes narrowing as they landed on a man who had slipped into the seat beside her.

He was tall, his broad shoulders filling out a black suit that clung to him like sin. His mask was unlike the others-a strange design of interwoven black metal and silver edges.

But it wasn't the mask that caught her attention.

It was his eyes.

One was black, dark and endless, like the abyss of a moonless night. Yeah, pretty normal, right?

But no, nothing about it was normal, because the other one was red, vivid and burning, like fire caught in a storm, swirling with an intensity that seemed almost alive.

She had seen people with heterochromia before but this...this was different.

Her breath immediately hitched, her carefully curated composure slipping for the briefest moment.

She felt an inexplicable pull, like his eyes weren't just looking at her-they were unraveling her. The black one was cold, detached, calculating. The red one? It burned, as if it could see right through her and wasn't afraid of what it found.

For the first time in years, she felt...off-balance.

"Fascinated?" he asked, his voice cutting through her thoughts, again.

Scarlett's lips curved into a smirk, recovering quickly. "Hardly."

His lips quirked upward. "Liar."

She turned fully toward him, resting her chin on her hand. "I don't think we've been introduced."

"Wouldn't you rather guess who I am?"

"Guessing games aren't my style."

"Pity. They're mine," he grinned, leaning back slightly.

The bartender returned, placing the Martinez in front of her.

Scarlett reached for the glass, her fingers brushing the stem as she held his gaze.

"So, what's your style?" he asked, his red eye glinting under the chandelier light.

"Ruining the nights of men who think they're clever," She replied, taking a slow sip of her drink.

He chuckled softly. "Then I must be in trouble."

"You will be."

The tension between them simmered, the air growing heavier as they studied each other.

"What brings you here?" he asked finally.

"Same thing that brings everyone. A distraction."

His lips curved into a faint smirk. "And have you found one yet?"

She leaned closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Maybe."

He didn't move back. He wasn't intimidated by her gaze.

If anything, he leaned in further, his black-and-red eyes locked on hers.

"I'll tell you what. Let's make you a deal. Prove to me you're worth the distraction, and I might show you something...better."

Scarlett arched an eyebrow. "And how exactly do you propose I prove myself?"

He glanced at the bartender. "Two glasses of the strongest bourbon you've got. Make it double."

The man hesitated but nodded, moving quickly to fulfill the order.

"You think a drinking contest is going to impress me?" Scarlett asked mockingly.

"I think it's going to prove whether or not you can keep up," he replied smoothly.

She smirked, picking up the glass as soon as it was placed before her. "Oh, darling, you have no idea who you're dealing with."

They clinked glasses, and Scarlett immediately downed hers in one go, the liquid burning its way down her throat.

He followed suit, setting his glass down with a sharp clink.

"Not bad," he teased. "But can you keep going?"

Scarlett's smirk widened. "Try me."

By the fifth round, a small crowd had gathered, buzzing around the bar like flies.

"This is too slow," she suddenly slammed her hand on the counter. "Twenty glasses of Absinthe Noir,"

The bartender froze, blinking in disbelief. "Twenty?"

"Did I stutter?"

The bartender looked to the man for confirmation, who gave a subtle nod.

The man then turned back to Scarlett, hesitating. "Are you sure about this?"

She tilted her head. "Do you know the one thing you should never do?"

"What?"

"Underestimate me."

Moments later, the bartender finished arranging the glasses in neat rows.

The man reached for the first glass, but Scarlett's hand shot out, stopping him.

"I've got this."

He chuckled, shaking his head. "Don't tell me you actually..." His words trailed off as Scarlett grabbed two glasses and downed them in rapid succession.

She didn't stop there. One by one, she drained each glass as if it was water, leaving the crowd stunned.

Mouths gaped, the bartender froze mid-motion, and even the man's ever-confident smirk faltered as she emptied glass after glass in under two minutes.

When the last glass hit the counter with a sharp clink, silence settled over the room.

The man blinked, his expression a mixture of surprise and admiration. "Impressive," he finally said, standing to his full height.

Scarlett smirked, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. "I told you, never under..."

Before she could finish, he moved.

His hand cupped her jaw, his lips capturing hers in a heated kiss.

Scarlett's first instinct was to shove him away, to break the contact and deliver a scathing remark or maybe even a blow or two. But the moment his lips met hers, something inside her shifted.

It wasn't irritation. And it wasn't disgust.

It was...desire.

The realization hit her like a tidal wave, fierce and overwhelming.

Her mind screamed that it was impossible. She had been diagnosed as sexually dysfunctional at eighteen, sexual anesthesia they called it, a result of her trauma.

She shouldn't feel anything. She couldn't.

And yet, here she was, her pulse quickening, her body leaning into his without thought.

He pulled back after a moment, leaving her breathless and shaken.

She almost groaned at the loss, her hand shooting out to grab him before she could think of anything.

"Let's go somewhere more private."

Without waiting for his response, she turned on her heel, dragging him toward the exit, leaving the crowd stunned at the sudden turn of events.