Chapter 52 PART TWO: RED

Chapter 52 PART TWO: RED
FOUR YEARS LATER...

~SCARLETT.

"Red." I heard the voice before I even turned. It lived in my head by now: dry, cocky, low-pitched, and always filled with unspoken amusement.

Rick leaned against the dressing room doorframe, arms crossed, signature smirk in place.

"You're up."

I gave a short nod. "Got it."

Rick had been the first to give me a real chance, after everything. California became a past life I buried without a funeral and I didn't even look back once.

With no money, no contacts, and no plan, I was just a bruised girl with too many nightmares and a desperate hunger to start over.

And starting over looked like walking into The Velvet Fang, a fancy Nevada strip club with velvet walls, bright neon lights, and filled with wealthy men who paid to pretend. Some cried, some lied, and most forgot my name the second they came.

It didn't matter because I made them remember.

They called me Red now, the only piece of my past I allowed to survive. The color burned through everything-the pain, the shame, the softness. Even my hair screamed it, dyed a fierce crimson that caught the light like fire.

I stood in front of the full-length mirror in my private dressing room, adjusting the straps of my crimson two-piece. Crystals sparkled under the bulb, six-inch heels on my feet, lips painted blood red, and smoky eyes dark with intensity.

I didn't look like a girl running anymore.

I looked like a woman people didn't dare chase.

The music outside thumped louder. Show time.

Passing the other girls in the hallway-Rose, Ivy, and Blair-I felt their cold stares and jealous sneers. Three years ago, I'd walked in and changed the rules, taking their best clients, prime slots, and illusions of dominance.

I didn't gloat. I simply smiled, as if I already knew exactly how this story ended.

The red curtain waited for me, the room holding its breath behind it. Closing my eyes, I breathed in the heat, the lust, and the electric charge in the air.

Show them who owns this place, Red.

The beat dropped into a low, slow rhythm with one of Sabrina Carpenter's sultry tracks playing. Just the way I liked it. 

As the lights dimmed to a red-violet haze, I stepped out and the room exploded with cheers, money, and hands in the air like worship. They didn't even know my real name, yet they treated me like a religion.

I moved toward the pole, my hips swaying to the beat as the music devoured me, every note sinking into my bones and guiding my every move. I twisted, dropped, and held impossible poses effortlessly. Heat pulsed through the room, my hair whipping through the air, and my heels striking the stage harshly.

And when I did a slow, controlled split, with my head thrown back, the crowd lost it.

I didn't need to touch them or speak because they were mine anyway.

Money flew like confetti. I blew a kiss to a man near the front whose mouth hung open like he'd forgotten how to breathe.

Then the music faded, leaving a beat of silence before the eruption.

I walked off the stage without glancing back because, as the saying goes, power didn't need validation.

Walking past Rose, who stood ready in the wings with an expression curdled in resentment, I couldn't help but notice how far she'd fallen. She used to headline, but now she barely managed second-tier clients.

"Break a leg," I murmured, not bothering to hide the smirk.

Her return glare was venomous. Her song began, but the applause that followed was tepid, forgettable.

Rick met me in the hall with a coat in hand, like some Vegas version of a proud parent.

"Still the queen," he said.

"You just love the money," I replied, shrugging the coat on.

He grinned. "And you bring it in, Red." 

Then he lowered his voice and added, "There's a VIP request for a lap dance from a high-roller."

I shot him a look. "I said no." 

Rick has been pushing for me to take on VIPs for a while now, but my answer was always the same. I wasn't interested in feeding these men's desires, my only role was to give them seductive one time performances every night and to keep them coming back to the club for more, as an untouchable walking sin.

"Just had to ask."

"Don't."

He lifted his hands in surrender. "Enjoy your night."

Back in the dressing room, I peeled off the glitter and wiped away the layers of makeup. The goddess faded, piece by piece. In the mirror, I became someone softer, plainer, still beautiful but real.

Pulling on a sweater, jeans, and sneakers, I threw my sparkly outfit in my bag and stepped out the back exit.

The bouncer, Jax, was waiting, silent as always, built like a brick wall with a teddy bear heart.

I tiptoed and kissed his cheek. "Night, big guy."

He rumbled a chuckle. "Goodnight, doll. Get home safe."

I still cringed whenever he called me that, as it reminded me of Liam. I wanted more than anything to forget about him, but seeing as Jax was like a father figure to me, I never said anything about it.

I forced a smile. "You know me. Taser's in the bag."

He nodded, round eyes warm as he spoke. "I trust you."

The streets were quieter than usual, just after two a.m. No traffic, no sirens, just the hum of streetlamps and the occasional buzz of a passing bug. I didn't drive; my car guzzled gas and my place was close enough. So, I walked alone, at ease.

Until I wasn't.

I felt it, that prickling awareness, a survival instinct honed from a year on the streets, followed by too many nights fending off men who didn't understand the word 'no'.

Someone was following me.

I didn't turn around right away. I picked up my pace instead, keeping my breathing steady while slipping a hand into my bag and curling my fingers around the taser, cold, comforting, and ready.

Glancing back just once, I saw a hooded figure walking too steadily, not drunk, not random, following me.

Heart thudding, I scanned ahead, spotting a shadowed alley. Perfect.

Ducking into the alley, I pressed myself flat against the wall, waiting, the taser buzzing to life in my palm. 

The footsteps grew louder. 

Closer. 

Closer. 

Then, at the right time, I lunged, grabbed the figure by the arm, spun them, and slammed them against the brick. My knee pinned their thigh, and the taser was pressed to their ribs.

"Try it," I growled.

But at that moment, the hood fell, revealing a pair of wide, terrified eyes blinking up at me behind thick glasses.

"Scarlett?" she whispered, and I froze, my breath stuttering in my throat.

"Emily?"