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Chapter 7: Stopping by the Woods …

Previously: Faith arrives and they all discover that she knew Tierre. Tierre protects Faith from the misdirected wrath of Willow. He orders all of Scarlet M to leave, and they did, taking Yesha with them. Buffy hyperventilates through all this. She changes her mind about helping the Vashkans, because it might involve hurting Tierre. Faith insists that Tierre isn’t Spike, but Buffy doesn’t want to believe. Faith decides to tell Buffy a little story…

***

They went up to Faith’s room, a room that she rarely used. As Buffy sat on the bed, Faith groped blindly around in her head for the right words. Oh, crap, this was hard. She felt like the bad girl again as she slid on her seat; the girl who didn’t belong. It was not a feeling she relished. Over the past four years, Faith had discovered herself little by little. She found that she liked fighting the good fight even more than she just liked fighting, period. She helped to rebuild the Council. She had been the one to gather the young Slayers; those who hadn’t been involved in the fight. Buffy had taken over training them.

During that time, Faith had roamed the world, getting rid of the more dangerous threats that the Slayers they’ve already deployed weren’t ready to deal with yet. Every now and then, she’d go home to South Hampshire, bringing new information, or some new discovery to them. The little Slayers all looked at her as the adventurous one, the one who got to do all the cool things they were so excited to do. As she gained self-respect, she gained theirs, as well. And their trust. She valued that more than anything.

Buffy had left the Council a little over a year after its completion. Faith knew where she lived and sent her postcards every now and then. Once, she had given Tierre Wolfson a little piece of advice: You need roots kid. We all do.

Tierre. Was that really him they had just fought?

“Where do I start?” she asked finally.

Buffy shook her head, then shrugged, “How about the beginning? Tell me who he is,” she hitched a sharp breath, “My God. He looked so much like …”

Faith bit her lip. She didn’t know much about giving comfort. But she knew that Buffy needed to hear the truth. “I don’t know the important details about him. I only met him once,” she said softly, “It was almost four years ago …”

~*~*~*~

YORKSHIRE, 2003:

It was a happy day for Faith. She’d been in bounty hunts before―had even been the quarry at some―and she knew almost immediately that she had dropped right smack in the middle of one. The dark-haired Slayer all but danced in excitement. After months of nothing but the most ho-hum of slays, she thought that she had dropped in rumble heaven.

The little things a Slayer gets excited about.

She even thought that the abnormally high fear-level of the demon hunters was due to her fashionably late arrival. Her ego was so inflated, that if the imagery ever became literal instead of metaphorical, she’d look like a beached whale.

But it soon became apparent that Faith the Vampire Slayer was not the one driving fear into the hunters’ hearts―or any of their other organs that took the place of hearts. In fact, they pretty much ignored her, taking her for another tracker. She realized then that there were humans in the bunch. They were armed and deadly; veterans in this game, masters, even.

And they, like all the rest, looked about them, shifty-eyed, jumpy. Ready to take the heads off of anyone who’s unfamiliar shadow was unlucky enough to be caught in their peripheral visions. No doubt about it, they were scared shitless.

It was a lucky cover for Faith; their assumption that she was one of them, and she wasn’t about to blow it by asking, “So, what’re we after?” She tagged along with one of the more capable looking groups. For some strange reason, these bounty hunters seemed to think sticking together was the better part of valor. Most of them had gathered into groups, but some had still scampered off by themselves.

“Stupid turds,” one of the hunters of the group she’d trailed after muttered, “Don’t they know that they don’t stand a chance if they go off alone? He’ll just pick them off one by one!”

“Like apples in an orchard,” one said, reptilian tongue snaking out in a hiss.

“Hell, easier than that. Like apples in a produce stand,” another one added.

“Never mind them,” the self-appointed leader, a demon who spoke English like he’d graduated from Oxford, snapped, “What matters now is that we stick together. He’ll think twice before striking then.”

“Think twice, sure. But will he stop?”

“Yeah, why don’t we just split up?”

“Good ol’ divide and conquer.”

The leader just sneered at his teammates’ ideas, “Go ahead, try it. Once you divide, he’ll conquer. Is that what you want? Because if it is, then you’re just playing right into his trap.”

That was enough reasoning for everybody, and once again, they set off in the small patch of Yorkshire woods. Eventually, the woods would lead to something bigger, maybe even a forest. Faith made a mental note to split before they got to the forest part. She didn’t want to be lost. But she couldn’t help being intrigued by this ‘him’ the trackers kept exchanging fearful whispers about. He was the one they’d been hunting, only he’d managed to turn the tables along the way ( according to some chattier hunters ) and had turned hunter against hunter at the beginning. As the contest as to who would bag him first became more intense, the hunters had gone off their own ways.

That was when the numbers started dropping off. Individuals and smaller groups of threes to fives were slowly being eliminated from the hunt. Literally. They knew that because they passed by the bodies. They were injured, unconscious or dead. Those who had gotten injured had given them the chilling news.

They were all being hunted, by the very person they thought they were hunting.

Faith thought, rather uncharitably, that it served them right. Whoever this mysterious ‘him’ was, he had been grievously underestimated. A mistake the arrogant trackers were now finding out first hand was lethal.

Curiouser and curiouser. Faith was now more fascinated than just intrigued. Whoever he was, he was clever, cunning and dangerous.

Her kind of guy. She wanted to see him, and now.

So she coyly suggested a little trick of her own to the puffed up leader. Why not set up their own trap?

A few minutes later, and their group burst out into a heated argument between Faith and the leader. It escalated fast, and the two nearly came to blows. Finally, Faith spat out a burning insult, said something about having better luck on her own, and stormed off. Some of the other trackers went with her, effectively splitting the group into two uneven parts. Faith had fewer people, but she declared loudly that she needed no other muscle other than her own to bring down a kid.

Because Tierre Wolfson was nothing more than just a kid, anyway. That’s why he was playing hide and seek.

Inwardly, Faith recoiled at the name she’d just heard herself say. Tierre Wolfson? They were hunting him? She’d heard of him, of course. A brash, reckless warrior who came out of nowhere. Already, his notoriety as an indiscriminate, fearless hellraiser preceded him. His reputation, which had spread faster than juicy gossip, had been earned the hard way. He had made enemies almost from the moment he’d appeared, and he had a price on his head, somewhere in the millions category.

So far, the pot of gold he carried remained untouched.

The Council had been worried about him, as had all the other greater good factions, like the witch’s coven that Willow visited frequently, the Order of the Sages, The Blood Cadre, and many others. They were even more worried when the greater evil factions knew next to nothing on him, either. Just who the hell was he? Where did he come from? What did he look like? So many descriptions, so many tales, none of them proven to be fact.

Faith licked her lips in anticipation. She was about to meet the Wildfire Legend. Ooh…wouldn’t the Council just love her to bits if she brought him in. Give them a one up on all the other factions.

The next thing she knew, he burst into the scene, a golden hurricane, a force of nature with a beating heart. Or maybe it was her heartbeat, she couldn’t be sure. Still, she was proud of herself for sounding very composed when she said, “Tierre Wolfson, I presume?”

He turned around then, and the heartbeat that had been pounding in her face stopped for a second.

Spike, her mind whispered. Can’t be. He’s ashes now. But … he was standing right there!

She must have said the name out loud, she wasn’t sure. She was too shocked to do much of anything but gape, slack-jawed, and all. Still, he puckered up those soft lips in a sneer that was both regal and mischievous―so very Spike―and said, “Oh, this,” he gestured towards his face, “Don’t worry. I just look like William the Bloody. I’m not him. Or at least, I don’t think so.”

Faith still couldn’t wrap her mind around this new screw to reality. Oddly enough though, he didn’t attack her while she was in confused suspended animation. He just talked, circling her warily and … a little playfully?

“I’m not a kid, you know, no matter what they say,” he said, “And I’m not playing hide and seek. You guys sought and I … followed from behind and tried to keep my snickers to a minimum.”

He even talked like Spike. Cockney. The only British accent that she had ever found appealing.

“Who are you?” she finally asked dumbly.

“Tierre Wolfson, at your severe annoyance,” he bowed his dark gold head courteously, but blue eyes flecked with gold never once left her.

She wasn’t fooled by his easy-going style. She’d seen him move―or rather, not seen him. He’d taken down her four companions before she could even react. And she never even sensed that he was near.

That never happened to her. Either he was friggin’ good, or she suddenly sucked.

“No, I mean, what are you?” she hissed. She was angry. This creature before her suddenly seemed obscene, a mockery of the man who had saved the world at the price of everything that he had wanted. Thank God, Buffy wasn’t here, “What kind of demon? Are you a glamour?”

“I’m not a demon!” he snapped, “Spike was a demon. But not me. I’m as human as you are … only with, uh, slight, modifications.”

At the word ‘modifications’, she began to notice something.

He wasn’t Spike.

Well, yeah, he looked like Spike. Eerily so. But there were differences, not counting his hair. She’d only ever seen Spike’s platinum do. For all she knew, his natural hair color had been dark blond, too.

Spike had been well-muscled, lean and fit, perfectly filled out.

Wolfson was lanky and thin. He was long-limbed, though, like Spike had been, and he wasn’t awkward or anything like that.

Spike had preferred the basic black get-up.

Wolfson wore a rumpled green T-shirt with the slogan Fight Crime. Shoot Back. emblazoned at the front, and a pair of slightly baggy, faded blue Levi’s. He wore Chuck Taylor high-tops.

Spike had a scar on his … oh. Tierre had a scar on his left eyebrow, too. Hmmm … what to make of that …

Moving on. Spike had been pale. In a cool way, but pale.

Tierre had sunburn. He was alive, duh. His cheeks were tinged pink, like he’d neglected to put on sun block.

But most of the differences lay on his face, in his eyes. Specifically, in his facial expressions. He smirked, he sneered, but Tierre Wolfson was expressing himself a little too honestly, where as Spike’s face had been trained not to show too much. Despite the undeniable sparkle of mischief in their azure depths, Tierre’s eyes were wide, artless and utterly without guile. Almost innocent. There was none of the hardened knowing there that had been in Spike’s.

Faith started, as the word ‘kid’, finally made sense.

Tierre Wolfson was just a kid. No older than Faith herself. He had just reached his earliest twenties.

Definitely not Spike. So who the hell was he?

“Well?” his voice broke into her thoughts, long-fingered hands splayed on his narrow hips, “Did I pass inspection, or what? There’s a time limit to staring, you know.”

She glanced at the fallen trackers. Some were groaning. Others slept the sleep of the knocked unconscious, “You didn’t take me down.”

He shrugged, “I was getting to that.”

But before he could do whatever it was he planned to do, the incensed bounty hunters burst out from the deep shades of green, whooping gleefully, pouncing on the startled Tierre. He was restrained by the strongest of the demons; the humans didn’t dare come closer.

“So … this is the great Tierre Wolfson,” the demon leader whose group Faith had broken up, sneered, “Why, you’re just a nasty little punk, aren’t you?” he turned to Faith with an approving nod, “Nice work,” he said.

Tierre’s gold-flecked gaze cut her straight to the bone. He didn’t look angry or bitter. He just seemed to accept the fact that everyone here, including her, was an enemy.

And just like that, Faith made up her mind. Everything in her was in fierce rebellion against leaving him to fend for himself amidst all these hunters. Why did she all of a sudden care that he might not make it out alive? Why did she feel that she had betrayed him by setting this trap?

The demon leader was still talking, Tierre’s chin in his steely hand, “Did you really think that just because you look like him, you are him? Are you some kind of an idiot? It takes more than just a British accent and an I-don’t-give-a-fuck attitude to be William the Bloody, you little punk.”

“No,” Faith said quietly. The demon turned to her. Faith grinned, “It takes a helluva bloody wicked uppercut.”

Her knuckles exploded beneath the demon’s chin, actually putting him airborne, before he collapsed in a graceless sprawl.

Tierre was already on the move before Faith put her teeth together for the ‘t’ in her ‘uppercut’. He was a blur, too fast for the human eye to follow. Faith, on the other hand, still saw most of his moves. She noticed that he wasn’t above fighting dirty, tossing dirt in the hunters’ eyes, punching, kicking, biting and scratching at whatever appendage was within his reach. His blows were not always accurate; he was moving too fast for that, but they were always fatal. It occurred to her then that he might just be as strong as she was. He was certainly equally fast.

It was funny how fast the mind can work. All these information on Tierre was snap-recorded in Faith’s brain in a matter of seconds, even as she joined the violent fray. Her body moved in the instinctive dance of death that was the Slayer’s first, and truest nature. She didn’t have to put too much thought into what she was doing, which was especially convenient right now because it meant she can watch Tierre out of the corner of her eye. She was impressed and wasn’t too proud to admit it to herself. She couldn’t stop the smile that grew in her face when she realized that the kid version of Spike was having the time of his life, grinning and laughing, and making fun of his enemies.

“Hey! Hey!” Tierre was yelling, driving a bone-crushing back fist across a persistent tracker’s cheek, splitting the skin open above the muscle, “You kick ass too!”

Faith laughed at the genuinely surprised tone of his voice, “That’s what Slayers do, kid,” she said, and obligingly kicked another hunter in the rump. This one was human with too much confidence in his abilities for his own safety.

“A Slayer?’ roundhouse kick, “Cool!” blocked a knife hand aimed for his throat, “I’ve always―”, another block, disarming a demon carrying a wicked dagger, “―wanted―” evaded a set of sharp talons, “to meet―,” a graceful somersault that carried him high above the heads of the trackers. He landed in a crouch next to Faith and was up before the rest of him had settled, “―a Slayer,” he finished, not even winded.

Faith shook her head at him, delivering a powerful back kick to another hunter who’d been thinking of sneaking up on her, “Don’t talk with your hands full.”

His only answer was a cocky grin, before turning so he was right behind her. Faith felt a curious sense of safety, instinctively knowing that as long as Tierre was guarding her back, nothing could get to her from that vulnerable position.

Together, they fought the mixed troop of demons and humans intent on killing them both … and then taking Tierre’s body to whomever devil it was that had sent them after him as proof of their legibility for the bounty.

But they wouldn’t be doing that. Not today, for the dark Slayer and the young freak of nature had transformed themselves into the very harbingers of debilitating pain, a physical shield more effective than any defense with weapons.

It was over in two minutes. 20 hunters down, only Tierre and Faith remained standing.

“Whoo!” Tierre pumped a victorious fist in the air, “Tierre and Slayer, 100! Abhorrent Slaves to Greed and Money, 0!” he held up an open palm and turned to her, “Give it here, Slayer.”

Faith exchanged high fives with him, neglecting to feel dorky about it. His enthusiasm was that contagious, “You know there are more of them where they came from,” she said, indicating the fallen ‘hunters’.

Tierre shrugged, “Bring ‘em on,” he said arrogantly. He cocked his head to the side, studying her from head to foot, unabashed wonder and admiration in his cerulean gaze.

Faith was on the verge of blushing like some Catholic school girl. His eyes lacked the lasciviousness she usually encountered. She saw instead the respect he so freely gave to a fellow warrior. That shook her up more than if he had been staring at her, eyes glazed over with lust. To cover up her discomfiture, she went back to her last topic, “This was a clever trap you set here. Lure them in with irresistible bait, then attack them one by one or five by five,” she said, “You know the woods better than they do. You’ve been here before, haven’t you?”

“Came to get the lay of the land last week before I issued the challenge. I even slept here the past couple of nights.”

Clever. Cunning. She liked him already, “They underestimated you.”

“That’s okay. I like being underestimated.”

“But you didn’t set any booby traps.”

“They would have bolted after coming across the first one. The bait was enough. I was enough.”

He had set himself up as bait, he’d been that desperate to get these hunters together, leading them on like the Pied Piper, and then tossing them over the nearest cliff, “How long has this been going on, Tierre?” Faith asked softly, “How long have you been hunted?”

“Long enough,” he said nonchalantly. But now his casualness seemed forced. Those guileless eyes were giving away too much, “Everywhere we go, someone or somethin’s bound to come after me. Don’t wanna run anymore, is all.”

“Why are you being hunted?”

“How should I know?” he asked in exasperation. He ran a hand through sun-burnished hair, messying up the tangled mop even further, “I don’t even know who sent these guys. Asking them’s no good, they’ll never tell. Short of torture―” he cut himself off. Faith was staring at him again, “Did you know Spike?’ he asked quietly, in a mixture of hope and weariness.

Faith nodded.

“I’m not him,” he said stubbornly, golden head bowed, “Everyone I’ve met so far seems to think so, though.”

“And so far, they’ve all got scores to settle with him.” Faith felt a pang of sympathy for him, but at the same time, his mystery just got deeper. He insisted he wasn’t Spike, and yet he didn’t sound like he believed that. Actually, he sounded like someone who didn’t know what to believe. He was lost, not knowing why so many wanted him dead, his only clue the hatred those people harbored for his face … his uncanny resemblance to Spike.

“It’s not just that,” he continued, “Some of them are just bein’ paid to do it. They never even knew Spike. They’re the dangerous ones. People who’d kill for money can do anything,” he added a weak attempt at humor, “But at least this is good practice, right?”

Faith’s eyes swept the woods, “This isn’t your last stop, is it, Tierre? You’ve got another trick up your sleeve?”

“Sure. These aren’t all the pricks after me. I wanna finish this once and for all.”

“Don’t,” at his shocked expression, she softened her voice, “At least not alone. I’ve got … friends, who can help you.”

His eyes clouded, “You mean, other Slayers?”

She nodded. And some other people besides, she added silently, thinking of Buffy’s reaction. She didn’t know what it would be. This boy wasn’t Spike, or maybe he was, but that was just the kind of thing Willow and Giles were good at. Still, as concerned as she was for the blonde Slayer, Faith knew that right now, Buffy’s feelings were secondary to the issue of Tierre’s safety. He was stronger than he looked, but all alone he was as vulnerable as the next person.

“Do you know Buffy Summers?”

The question had the effect of getting clocked one right on the kisser, “Huh?”

The naked hope in Tierre’s expression, stamped in his entire lanky frame, was so strong, Faith cringed. If that hope ever died … “Yes, I know her,” she replied, “You’ve been looking for her?”

“Uh-huh. I need to find her. I’ve … been told that she’s the only one who ever really knew Spike. She … I mean … you know, for help and everything. I dunno if you’ve noticed, but I kinda have an extreme case of identity crisis here …”

His nervousness was endearing. Faith wondered if maybe, just this once, she could take Buffy’s place. The sharpness of the yearning baffled her. Whoah, girl, slow down. Not yours. Not even Buffy’s, really. Not anymore, “She’ll be there. There’s this place in South Hampshire …” she tugged him closer and spoke the directions in his ear, to protect the fledgling Council from the prying ears of those who might just be pretending to be unconscious, “You won’t miss it. Don’t forget.”

“I won’t. Slayer … this Buffy … she doesn’t kill humans, does she? Did I mention that I am human?”

“Don’t worry, I’m the black sheep of the family, currently undergoing bleaching. And she will help you, so will everyone else there. Promise me you’ll go before dealing with these bounty hunters on your own.”

He nodded too quickly for her to believe him, “Promise me, Tierre,” she insisted.

“Uh-huh.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. He blinked up at her with practiced innocence. But when he saw she wasn’t swayed, he sighed, “Thanks for the concern, although I have no idea where it’s coming from. But I have plans of my own. All I really need from Miss Summers is the truth about Spike. That’s all.”

“That’s all? And then what?”

“I don’t know yet. Depends on whatever it is I’ll find out from her. But Maggie and I’ll most likely go back to the U.S. Of course, she’ll probably wanna tour all of Europe first …”

“Maggie?”

“My friend,” he answered automatically, “Maggie Wolfson. A wanderer like me,” he added dramatically, “The world is our playground.”

Okay, so he sounded drunk on freedom. She can fix that, “So where are you gonna live?”

“Live?”

“You know, settle down.”

His forehead puckered up in confusion. Like, what was she talking about?

“You know, Tierre,” Faith said in her best world-weary, I’m-a-wise-Slayer voice, “I’ve been there. Going where I please, doing what I want, no ties formed, no bonds to be broken. I thought I was absolutely free.”

“But, isn’t that …”

“No, it’s not,” Faith sighed, and it wasn’t all feigned, “Sooner or later, you’ll just tire yourself out. You’ll feel like you’re running out of places to be, things to do. Soon you’ll just feel like you’re running, period. The people you meet will be nothing more than a parade of insignificant faces easily forgotten.”

“Are we getting near your point now?” the sarcasm was back in his voice, but not quite as sharp as it used to be. He was listening to her.

“Yeah. I’m sayin’ true freedom isn’t about having everything you want. I’m sayin’ it’s about having a home to go back to … always.”

Silence. Blue eyes locked on brown, wondering if …

“You’re trying to recruit me, aren’t you?” Tierre said suddenly.

Faith groaned, “Was I that obvious?”

“No. You almost got me there. I almost believed you,” he looked up at the canopy of leaves that looked like green lace, “Or maybe I’m bein’ too optimistic. Again. Is it recruitment you’re dishing out, or are you trying to lure me to the Council?”

“We’re the good guys, Tierre.”

“Yeah, and you know what I think? I think there’s nothing more but a thin, imaginary line separating the bad guys from the good. And when it comes to me, that line doesn’t exist at all,” he was frowning now, resentful and sad and angry, “No one knows what I am, least of all me. That’s not an issue with the bad guys. They’ve all got ideas, and they’re all willing to impose them on me. But for the good guys? Well, I’m guilty till proven innocent.”

He was starting to back away, his eyes taking on that wounded, wild animal look that Faith only knew too well. She must have worn that look quiet a number of times, herself. She reached out and grabbed his arm before he could bolt. Despite his almost fragile appearance, the muscle and bone beneath his skin felt solid, “We have never hunted you,” she said firmly, hoping he’d believe the truth, “Never. Not unless you give us a reason to, and even then we’d be up front about it. You’ll know that we’re against you. And f.y.i? I was trying to recruit you back there. You’re the best fighter I’ve seen in a while.”

Now he looked guilty for his accusation, “But you’re surrounded by Slayers,” he mumbled, to change the subject.

“Yeah. And they’re still in school. You, on the other hand, jumped right into the work force without bothering with a diploma and got yourself promoted to the highest ranks the hard way,” Faith said proudly, “You’re a street fighter, Tierre. We need that.”

He looked pleased by her praise, but Faith knew he wasn’t convinced. He’d already made his plans with Maggie and he wasn’t about to change them for no good reason.

Faith gave it one last shot, this time, she was sincere to the bone, “I meant what I said to you. Freedom means having a home.”

He regarded her skeptically, “And home would be where, exactly? South Hampshire?”

Faith shrugged, “It doesn’t really matter where. Or who. As long as you belong there. You need roots, kid. We all do,” she watched him fiddle with the hem of his old shirt, “At least think about it.”

He chewed on that full lower lip. Sighed. Looked around.

Then he looked at her, and his face softened. He grinned, open and sweet and it was possibly the most beautiful smile Faith had ever seen grace the face of man, “You know, I never did get your name.”

“Faith,” the Slayer replied, a little breathlessly. Jesus, had Spike been like this when he’d been 20? No wonder Drusilla hadn’t been able to resist him, “My name is Faith,”

“Faith,” he said, as if that satisfied him. He held out his hand and she shook it, “Pleased to meet you,” he said. He let her hand go, and nodded, as if he’d made up his mind, “Maybe I will look you up. I don’t know. I guess you’ll know when you see me.”

It was as close to a promise as he was ever going to give her, but it was enough. He’ll go find Buffy, and once he sees her, he’ll want to stay. Of that, she was sure.

So she didn’t say anything else, didn’t try to stop him as he walked away.

She should have.

~*~*~*~

“I really thought he’d come to us,” Faith murmured, “I heard that he got into an even bigger mess in Yorkshire. His legend grew even more after that.”

“He never came,” Buffy said softly.

“And I didn’t know where to look,” Faith sighed, “I couldn’t tell you, Buffy. I didn’t know how. I’ve heard rumors that Tierre is part of Scarlet, but I don’t know much about Scarlet. What I do know convinced me I really didn’t want to think of Tierre joining up with them. Buffy … I’m sorry. I never meant for it to come to this. I didn’t even think that I’d ever see him again. With all of those that wanted him dead … it’s a miracle that he survived. And―”

“Why did you tell Angel, but not me?” Buffy suddenly asked, cutting off Faith.

Faith blinked, “Angel? What are you talking about? I never told Angel anything . I’m the only one who … wait … does Angel know about Tierre?”

Buffy was biting her lip so hard, she tasted blood. How could Angel do this to her? “Yeah,” her voice cracked, and she hastily cleared her throat, “Yeah, he knows about Tierre. But he never said anything.”

It was the only explanation for his adamant refusal to help, for him ordering Faith to leave Scarlet alone. He didn’t want anyone to find out about Tierre’s existence. The funny thing was, she believed him when he said that he didn’t want her to get hurt. He had known who she would find if she pursued Scarlet. He had known―at least a little―what she would feel.

But he had still lied to her, still betrayed her. Hurt didn’t come close, but anger did, “I need to talk to him,” she murmured, her voice soft, but determined, “I need to hear his explanation.”

TBC...





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