Scarlett's POV
Marcus is standing between me and the only exit.
My ex-fiancé. The man who destroyed me at the altar. The man I thought I'd never see again.
Except he's been here all along. Wearing Agent Rivera's face. Working beside Dante. Playing FBI agent while hunting women who look like me.
"You're wondering how," Marcus says, stepping over Julian's bleeding body like it's nothing. "How I fooled everyone. How I became Rivera."
I back away until I hit the wall. Nowhere left to go.
"It's actually pretty simple," he continues. "The real Rivera? He's dead. Has been for three months. I killed him, took his identity, his badge, everything. Nobody questioned it. Why would they? I looked exactly like him."
"The masks," I whisper.
"Special effects makeup. Very expensive. Very convincing." He reaches up and touches his face—his real face now. Marcus's face. "I've been wearing Rivera's face for months. Walking through FBI headquarters. Working crime scenes. Getting closer to you."
Julian groans from the floor. Still alive.
"Why?" My voice shakes. "Why are you doing this?"
Marcus's smile disappears. His eyes go cold and empty. "Because you humiliated me, Scarlett."
"I humiliated you? You left ME at the altar!"
"I had to!" His voice rises. "You were too perfect. Too good. It scared me. So I sabotaged us before you could realize I wasn't good enough for you and leave me first."
My brain can't process this. "That makes no sense."
"It made perfect sense at the time." He moves closer. "But then I saw you afterward. Saw you broken and alone. Saw how my leaving destroyed you. And I realized something."
He reaches out and touches my face. I try to pull away but the wall is behind me.
"I realized that I loved seeing you hurt. I loved having that power over you. For once in my life, I was the one who did the leaving. I was the one in control."
Tears stream down my face. "So you killed innocent women?"
"They weren't innocent. They were weak. Just like you. Every single one of them trusted too easily. Fell in love too fast. They were practice. Getting ready for you."
"Practice?"
"Do you know how hard it is to kill someone the first time?" He says it casually, like discussing the weather. "Your hands shake. You second-guess yourself. But by the third or fourth time, it gets easier. Almost boring. That's when I knew I was ready."
I'm going to be sick.
"Emily, Rachel, all of them—they helped me perfect my technique. And framing Julian? That was the best part. He was so obvious, so suspicious. Dark past, mysterious behavior. All I had to do was plant a few pieces of evidence and everyone assumed he was guilty."
"Dante knows—"
"Dante knows nothing!" Marcus laughs. "Dante is so obsessed with being the hero, with saving you, that he can't see what's right in front of him. I've been feeding him false evidence for months. Leading him exactly where I want him to go."
My phone is still in my hand. If I can just—
Marcus snatches it before I can move. Crushes it under his heel.
"No more mysterious texts. No more warnings. It's just you and me now, Scarlett. The way it should have been from the beginning."
"Someone will find us," I say desperately. "Dante will come back—"
"Dante is at a fake crime scene across town. By the time he realizes it's a setup, we'll be long gone." Marcus pulls out a knife. A long, sharp hunting knife. "I've already prepared everything. A cabin upstate. No neighbors. No cell service. Just us."
"I'll never go with you."
"You don't have a choice."
Julian groans again, louder this time. His hand moves, reaching for something.
Marcus sees it and kicks him in the ribs. Julian cries out.
"Please stop!" I beg. "Please, Marcus. If you ever cared about me at all—"
"I do care." He grabs my arm, yanks me away from the wall. "That's why this is so perfect. I care so much that I can't let anyone else have you. Not Julian. Not Dante. Nobody."
He starts dragging me toward the door.
I fight back, clawing at his arms, trying to break free. But he's stronger. Always has been.
"The more you fight, the more I like it," he whispers in my ear. "It reminds me of our wedding day. How you stood there in that dress, waiting for me. Looking so beautiful and so broken."
We're at the door now.
This is it. If he gets me outside, into a car, I'm dead.
Think, Scarlett. Think!
"Wait!" I gasp. "Wait, please. Just one question."
He pauses, curious. "What?"
"Vivienne. My sister. Does she know?"
His face changes. Something flickers in his eyes. Guilt? Regret?
"Vivienne was an accident," he says quietly. "I married her to get close to your family. To keep tabs on you. But she started asking questions. Getting suspicious. I had to shut her up."
The world stops.
"What did you do to my sister?"
"What I had to do." He opens the door. "Now come on—"
An explosion of movement from behind us.
Julian, bleeding and barely conscious, has grabbed Marcus's dropped gun.
"Get away from her," Julian rasps, aiming the weapon with shaking hands.
Marcus spins, putting me between him and the gun. "Go ahead. Shoot. But you'll hit Scarlett first."
"Let her go!"
"No. She's mine. She was always mine."
"Marcus, please—" I start.
Everything happens at once.
The front door crashes open.
Dante rushes in, his own gun drawn. He sees Marcus holding me. Sees Julian bleeding on the floor. Sees the knife at my throat.
"FBI! Let her go!" Dante shouts.
"You're too late," Marcus says calmly.
He slices the knife across my throat.
I feel the blade. Feel the sting. Feel warmth trickling down my neck.
But I'm still alive.
It's not deep. Just a scratch. A warning.
"Next time I won't miss," Marcus says. Then he whispers in my ear: "When I say run, run. Trust me."
Wait. What?
"I'm taking her," Marcus announces, backing toward a window. "If anyone follows, I'll finish what I started."
"Marcus, don't—" Dante starts.
Marcus smashes the window with his elbow and throws something small and round into the room.
"RUN!" he screams at me.
Smoke explodes everywhere.
A smoke grenade.
I can't see. Can't breathe. Hands grab me and I'm pulled through the broken window into cold night air.
We're running.
Someone is running with me, dragging me across a lawn, into shadows.
"Keep going," a voice says. Not Marcus's voice.
A woman's voice.
The smoke clears enough for me to see who's holding my arm.
My legs give out.
It's Vivienne.
My sister. My dead sister.
Except she's not dead.
She's here. Alive. Pulling me toward a car parked in the darkness.
"Get in!" she screams.
"But you—Marcus said—"
"Marcus says a lot of things. Most of them are lies." She shoves me into the passenger seat and runs to the driver's side. "We have about thirty seconds before they realize what happened."
"I don't understand—"
"I know you don't. But right now, you need to trust me."
She starts the engine.
Behind us, I hear shouting. Dante yelling. Gunshots.
Vivienne hits the gas and we speed into the night.
"Where are we going?" I ask.
She glances at me. Her eyes—my sister's eyes—are filled with tears.
"To end this," she says. "Once and for all."
"End what?"
"The game Marcus has been playing. The game I helped him start." Her voice breaks. "I'm so sorry, Scarlett. For everything. For the wedding. For lying. For all of it."
"You helped him?"
"I thought I was in love. I thought..." She wipes her eyes angrily. "I didn't know he was a monster. Not until it was too late."
My head is spinning. Nothing makes sense.
"If you knew, why didn't you tell the police?"
"Because he has leverage. Evidence that makes me look guilty too. If I talk, I go to prison." She turns down a dark street. "But tonight, we're going to get that evidence. And we're going to stop him."
"How?"
She pulls something from her pocket. A key.
"Marcus isn't the only one who knows where he keeps his trophies."
My blood runs cold. "Trophies?"
"From all the women he killed." Vivienne's voice is hollow. "He keeps parts of them. Jewelry. Photos. Locks of hair. He talks to them sometimes. Like they're still alive."
I'm going to throw up.
"We're going to his storage unit right now. We're going to find the evidence. And we're going to make sure he never hurts anyone again."
"What if he follows us?"
"He won't. He thinks I'm dead, remember?" She smiles, but it's bitter. "I've been hiding for weeks. Planning this. Tonight was my only chance."
We pull up to a storage facility. Dark, deserted, surrounded by chain-link fence.
Vivienne uses the key on the gate. We drive through.
"Unit 237," she says, parking. "That's where he keeps everything."
We get out. Walk down rows of identical garage doors. Stop at 237.
Vivienne unlocks it. Rolls up the door.
And we both scream.
Because Marcus is already inside.
Sitting on a chair. Surrounded by photos of dead women.
Smiling at us.
"Hello, ladies," he says softly. "I've been waiting."