Chapter 17: Vengeance and Ink
(Scarlet's POV)
The memory of Ethan Easton's twisted, furious face in that dressing room sent a jolt of dark pleasure through my veins. It was intoxicating.
Back at Crestwood, whenever I was cornered, I would fantasize about smashing his face in or drowning him in a toilet bowl. But this? Watching him bleed out his ego while I walked away unscathed felt far more theatrical.
Mason Thorne stood beside me, laughing like a man unhinged. He draped his oversized suit jacket over my shoulders, his movements jerky and manic.
I pulled the lapels tight, shielding myself from the night air. My fingers brushed against a cold metal object in his pocket. I pulled out a silver Zippo lighter, flipping the lid open and closed with a rhythmic *clink*.
I arched a bro
