Meet Scarlett Striker, a bold and quirky journalist for the Seattle Times. She's fun, confident, sassy, and just the right amount of weird. Scarlett is determined to rise to the top, no matter what it takes.
When her boss offers a golden opportunity...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
The next morning, I wake up to find Scarlett already up, sitting cross-legged on the bed with her laptop open, fingers flying across the keys. Normally, after a heavy conversation like last night's, Scarlett would've disappeared, buried herself in work or taken off somewhere, anything to avoid talking about it further. Avoidance is practically her superpower. As expected, our conversation didn't really get us anywhere. We ended up going to bed in silence. I wonder if she'll even talk to me today.
She glances over when she sees me stir, flashing a quick, almost shy smile. "Morning," she says, her voice light, but I catch the slight tension in her eyes.
I raise an eyebrow, stretching. "You're up early," I note, half surprised. Scarlett and early mornings are about as compatible as oil and water.
She shrugs, a faint smirk tugging at her lips as she turns back to her screen. "Couldn't sleep. Besides, deadlines don't wait for existential crises," she says dryly, tapping a few more keys.
I watch her for a moment, trying to process the fact that she'd actually admitted her feelings for James last night. It wasn't exactly news to me—I'd suspected it for ages—but hearing it out loud was another matter. Not that I handled it with much grace; I'd been a bit... cold, I suppose.
"You still processing last night?" I ask, attempting a softer tone, which I know might just make her dig her heels in.
She doesn't even look up. "There's nothing to process."
I roll my eyes. "There's everything to process. You being in love with James, my father wanting to kill everyone associated with him, you having way too much faith in a man who lies to you and has openly plotted to kill me—"
Scarlett's fingers freeze mid-type, and she sighs, snapping her laptop shut with a click that sounds like an exclamation point. She looks at me with a mix of irritation and a twinge of worry. "Look, Elizabeth. We're already way too deep. Your dad's practically got you on a countdown timer, and now me and Chris are apparently on his radar, too, for being... 'associated with James.' You're not the only one with a target on your back, alright?"
I gape at her. "Excuse me? Since when did my dad start coming after you?"
Scarlett waves a hand dismissively, as if being on my father's hit list is just a minor inconvenience. "Oh, you know. Just... since he figured out I might have a little loyalty to James. Your dad's tried to have me 'removed' more than once. Didn't feel like bothering you with that particular bit of information."
I sit up straighter, blood pounding in my ears. "Didn't feel like bothering me? Scarlett, that's not a detail you just... brush under the rug!"
She tilts her head, giving me a wry smile. "Since when did you become the patron saint of brutal honesty?"
I give her a deadpan look. "Since it became a matter of life or death, Scarlett."
She sighs, rolling her eyes. "Fine. Let's be honest then. James may be... complicated, but he's the only one with the connections to keep your dad at bay. That's why I'm sticking by him. He's not exactly the knight in shining armor type, but he's done a better job keeping us alive than anyone else has."
