Scarlet Monroe had always believed that fear had a smell.
It wasn't the sour bite of sweat or the metallic sting of blood.
It was colder.
Sharper.
A scent that lived deep beneath the skin—quiet, electric, waiting.
She smelled it now.
Not on Adrian Vale.
On herself.
Because as she followed him down the narrow back hallway of the abandoned textile factory, she realized something unsettling:
She wasn't afraid of what Adrian would do to her.
She was afraid of what she would do next…
if he kept looking at her with those eyes.
Dark.
Unblinking.
Heavy with something she couldn't name.
Her breath hitched. She hated that he could do that to her with a single look.
"You're walking like someone expecting an ambush," he said without turning around.
His voice slid through the air—smooth, calm, unbothered.
Scarlet balled her fists. "I'm walking like someone who doesn't trust you."
Adrian's chuckle was low and quiet.
"Good. You shouldn't."
He pushed open a set of rusted double doors and stepped aside so she could enter first.
Scarlet hesitated.
He raised a brow. "Afraid I'll lock you in?"
"No," she lied.
But she still scanned the room carefully.
A large, open loft. High ceilings. Broken windows that let in strips of dying afternoon light. A single wooden table sat in the middle, scattered with files, photos, weapons.
A headquarters.
Temporary, hidden, dangerous.
Adrian walked past her and removed his coat, hanging it on a metal hook. "Sit."
Scarlet didn't move.
"I said sit, not obey," Adrian added, glancing at her. "If I wanted you powerless, Scarlet, you wouldn't be standing."
She sat slowly, spine straight, ready to run or fight—or both.
Adrian leaned a hip against the table and crossed his arms. "You're shaking."
"It's cold."
"I turned the heating on before you arrived."
Damn him.
Scarlet clenched her jaw. "Why am I here?"
Adrian gestured to the files. "Because you don't remember last night. Because you were targeted. Because someone left a symbol on your body that hasn't been seen in eight years."
Her blood chilled.
"Symbol?" she echoed.
He reached for her hand.
Scarlet jerked back instantly.
Adrian's expression didn't change. "May I?"
Her pulse fluttered. She hated that.
But after a moment, she extended her arm, palm up.
Adrian took her wrist gently—far more gently than she expected—and rolled up her sleeve.
There it was.
A faint red imprint circling her wrist like a brand. A mark she'd assumed was bruising.
But up close…
it was precise. Circular. Sharp-edged.
A serpent biting its tail.
Scarlet's breath rushed out of her.
"No," she whispered. "That's impossible. That group dissolved years ago."
Adrian's jaw tightened. "Apparently not."
She stared at the mark. It seemed to move beneath her skin, a whispering reminder of something she didn't remember. Something she wasn't sure she wanted to remember.
"You said they left a symbol on me," she murmured. "Why? What do they want?"
Adrian's fingers traced the mark briefly—too briefly, like he was restraining himself.
"They want you," he said simply.
"For what?"
"That's what I intend to find out."
Scarlet looked up at him sharply. "And why do you care?"
A question.
A dangerous one.
Adrian stepped away from her, putting space between them, but not enough to make her feel safe.
"Because your past is not what you think it is, Scarlet."
She swallowed hard. "What does my past have to do with any—"
"Everything."
Scarlet stood. "I don't know what you think you know, but my past is—"
"Not yours," he cut in smoothly. "Not entirely."
Anger rose like a sudden storm. "Stop speaking in riddles—just tell me—"
"You were there that night," he said softly.
She froze.
Adrian's eyes locked onto hers. "The night the Serpent Circle disappeared. Eight years ago. The night the entire operation burned."
Scarlet felt the world sway beneath her.
"That's impossible," she whispered. "I had nothing to do with—"
"Your name was on the list."
"What list?"
He opened a file on the table, turning it toward her.
Scarlet stared at her own face—much younger, frightened, her hair shorter, her eyes hollow.
Beneath it:
CLASSIFIED ASSET — PRIORITY TARGET.
Her throat tightened.
"This has to be fake."
Adrian shook his head. "The Serpent Circle didn't manufacture false intel. They didn't need to."
Scarlet backed away, shaking her head violently. "No. I don't remember any of this. I would know if—"
"You were drugged," Adrian said. "Conditioned. Erased."
Her knees nearly buckled.
"You're lying," she whispered.
"If I were, you wouldn't have that mark." He pointed at her wrist. "They branded their assets. Their experiments."
Scarlet's breath came ragged.
Experiments.
The word scraped down her spine.
"No," she whispered again. "No—my parents… my life… my entire childhood—"
Adrian's face softened just slightly. "Scarlet…"
"Don't," she snapped, stepping back. "Don't say my name like that."
"Like what?"
"Like you know me."
Adrian held her gaze for a long, tense second.
Then:
"I do."
She froze.
Adrian's expression didn't falter. "More than you realize."
Scarlet felt something inside her unravel, thread by thread.
She shook her head slowly. "The hell you do."
"Sit," he said again, gently this time. "Please."
The word please from Adrian Vale was disarming enough that Scarlet obeyed.
Adrian took out another file—this one thinner, older, the edges frayed. He slid it across the table.
"Open it."
Scarlet did.
Her hands trembled.
Inside were newspaper clippings. Police reports. A photo of a burnt building.
Her heart stuttered.
Laboratory Fire Leaves No Survivors.
Eight Missing Children Presumed Dead.
Underground Human Enhancement Project Confirmed.
Scarlet's mouth went dry. "This is—this can't be—"
"Your name," Adrian said quietly, "was on the list of the missing children."
She pushed away from the table, the room narrowing around her.
"No," she whispered. "I was adopted—my mother—she had me since—"
"At age eleven," Adrian said. "Not since birth."
Scarlet stared at him, stunned. "How do you know that?"
"Because I've been watching you for years."
Her blood stopped moving.
The world fell silent.
"You've been what?" she said softly, dangerously.
Adrian didn't flinch.
"You were marked long before you realized it. There were attempts made to reclaim you. Attempts I stopped."
Scarlet's heart hammered painfully. "Why? Why would you care what happens to me?"
Adrian exhaled slowly. "Because the people who made you… wanted you back. Because they were willing to burn the world to do it."
Scarlet's hands shook violently.
"And because," Adrian added quietly, "you matter more than you think."
Scarlet felt like she couldn't breathe.
None of this made sense.
None of this felt real.
But then the mark on her wrist pulsed—just once—and panic coiled inside her.
"What am I?" she whispered.
Adrian's eyes softened—not with pity, but something deeper, heavier.
"You are the last surviving asset of the most dangerous experiment the Circle ever created."
She swallowed hard. "And what does that mean?"
"It means they'll come for you again," Adrian said. "It means you need me whether you want to or not."
Scarlet stepped back. "No. I don't trust you. I don't even know who you really are."
Adrian tilted his head. "All the more reason to stay close."
Before she could answer, he moved toward her—slow, deliberate. Scarlet's breath caught. He wasn't touching her, yet she felt him like heat, like gravity, like a shadow pressed against her skin.
"Scarlet," he murmured, voice low. "There is a storm coming. One that has been building for eight years. And whether you like it or not, your life is tied to mine."
She swallowed. "Why mine?"
Adrian's eyes darkened. "Because you're the only one they failed to break."
Scarlet's heart slammed against her ribs.
"And because," he added quietly, "I made a promise to you once."
She blinked. "What promise?"
Adrian leaned forward just slightly—close enough that she felt the edge of his breath against her cheek.
"That I would always find you."
Scarlet's breath hitched violently.
She stepped back instinctively, but Adrian didn't follow. He simply watched her, gaze unreadable and impossibly calm.
Her pulse pounded. Her chest burned.
Everything felt too close, too tight, too dangerous.
"Why would you make that promise?" she whispered.
Adrian didn't answer immediately. He just watched her with those storm-dark eyes… eyes that held something fierce, protective, conflicted.
Finally, he said:
"Because you saved my life once."
Scarlet froze.
She opened her mouth—but a loud crack echoed through the building.
Gunshot.
Then another.
Scarlet spun toward the windows.
Adrian's hand shot out, gripping her arm.
"They found us," he said.
Her fear turned to ice.
"Stay behind me."
She didn't have time to argue.
Shadows moved outside the glass. Footsteps stormed the hall.
The Serpent Circle had returned.
And Scarlet—
with no memory, a burning mark on her wrist, and a dangerous man holding her too tightly—
was no longer running from the truth.
The truth was coming for her.