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Scarlet Thorns

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Chapter 3: A Lie Between Us

🖤 Chapter 3

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💌 Author’s Hello

LunaTreazureNoir! 💋

You came back. I’m shocked. Surprised. Deeply honored.

But mostly... suspicious.

So before we jump in, here’s your warning:

This chapter contains chemistry, criminal activity, a door slammed in someone’s face, and possibly a lie you’ll want to slap someone over. 😌

Anyway—grab your espresso, hide your heart, and buckle up. Because this story just took off its gloves.

Xoxo,

Your chaotic author and emotional damage dealer 💅

– LunaTreazureNoir

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🏨✨ Hotel Note, Room 313 – Left Under the Pillow

Dear reader,

Congratulations! You’ve reached Chapter 3. That means you:

Have excellent taste

Enjoy emotional pain

Are maybe slightly unwell (same here 💀)

Tonight’s amenities include:

– 1 mysterious phone call

– 2 lies

– And a shirtless mafia heir (limited time only—handle with care)

Room service is unavailable due to plot complications.

Enjoy your stay, and remember: don’t trust anyone with perfect hair.

Sincerely,

Management 🕶️

Now duck, something’s about to explode.

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🌧️ Scene Begins...

The knock came at 1:14 a.m.

Archer Valenti didn't get surprised often, but this time, he looked up from his glass mid-pour.

He had two rules:

Never answer the door after midnight.

Never let anyone break rule one.

And yet... here he was, walking barefoot across marble tile, shirt half-buttoned, with the storm still echoing through the city outside his penthouse.

When he opened the door, he didn’t expect to see her.

Liana Cross.

Soaked from the rain. Arms crossed. Lip bleeding.

“Nice pajamas,” she said flatly, looking him up and down.

He blinked. “You’re bleeding.”

“You’re shirtless.”

Fair trade.

He stepped aside, and she brushed past him like she owned the place—which, of course, she didn’t. But Archer was starting to suspect she didn’t care who owned what, only what she could break.

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“Want to tell me what happened?” he asked as he handed her a towel.

“Nope,” she said, dabbing at her lip. “Just needed a place where nobody was trying to kill me.”

Archer narrowed his eyes. “Who was it?”

She gave him a look. The kind that said, If I wanted you dead, I’d smile first.

“I don’t need saving,” she said. “Just hiding.”

He should’ve told her to leave.

He should’ve kicked her back out into the storm.

Instead, he walked to the bar and poured two glasses.

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“Let me guess,” she said, flopping onto his leather couch like she was home. “Whiskey. Overpriced. Aged longer than I’ve been alive.”

He handed her the glass. “You’re not as funny as you think you are.”

“Neither are you, Romeo.”

He smirked. “Not trying to be funny.”

They drank in silence for a moment.

Outside, thunder cracked. Inside, her wet clothes clung to her frame, her smirk faded, and for once... she looked tired.

Like the girl behind the fire was flickering.

“What’s your real name?” he asked suddenly.

She looked at him sharply.

“You think I don’t know Liana Cross is fake?” he added. “You hide things in your voice. You’re good at it. But I’m better.”

She sipped. Swallowed. Didn’t flinch.

“You first,” she whispered. “Tell me the truth. Who did you kill that night?”

His glass paused at his lips.

Boom. There it was.

The question that pulled the whole foundation apart.

Archer didn’t answer. Not right away.

Finally, he said: “Someone who needed killing.”

She stood.

So did he.

They were close now—barely inches apart. His chest rose and fell, slow and dangerous. Her eyes searched his like a war scout deciding whether to strike.

“Let’s play a game,” she whispered.

He raised an eyebrow.

“I lie. You lie. We both pretend it’s the truth.”

She leaned in. Her breath brushed his jaw. “And whoever breaks first... loses.”

He didn’t move.

Didn’t speak.

Didn’t blink.

But something in him snapped.

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The kiss wasn’t soft.

It was fury.

It was lightning bottled in a single, reckless second.