Deadly desires: the Donna's obsession.

They barely crossed the gate before Scarlett slammed her foot down on the accelerator.

The car shot forward like a bullet, the engine roaring with an animalistic growl.

Killian's head slammed against the seat, his hand instinctively clutching the door handle. "What the hell, Scarlett?!" he barked, his voice struggling to rise over the deafening roar.

Scarlett's lips curved into a wicked smile, her eyes glittering with mischief. "I told you to buckle up."

Her grip on the wheel tightened, and she navigated the sharp turns with unnerving precision.

The tires screeched, the car skidding dangerously close to the edge of the asphalt before snapping back into line.

Killian fumbled for his seatbelt, his fingers trembling as the speedometer needle climbed past legal limits. "Jesus Christ," he muttered under his breath, his knuckles white as they gripped the edge of his seat.

Scarlett laughed unapologetically. "Relax, Black. I've got this."

" 'Got this?' " he snapped. "You're going to get us killed!"

She threw him a quick glance. "Don't be so dramatic."

The road ahead stretched long and empty, framed by shadowy trees swaying in the wind. Scarlett took the next curve at a reckless angle, the tires screaming in protest. The car lifted briefly over a bump, the sudden jolt slamming Killian back into his seat.

His stomach churned as adrenaline coursed through his veins. "Scarlett!" he shouted, his patience finally snapping.

She ignored him, her focus locked on the road, but the smirk on her lips said it all. She was enjoying this.

Watching him squirm, it seemed, was half the fun.

The outskirts of Valmont High finally disappeared behind them, replaced by dim streetlights and the outline of buildings at the city's edge.

As they approached civilization, Scarlett finally eased off the accelerator. The car's growl turned into a low purr.

"See? We made it," she said, throwing him a casual glance.

Killian gave her a death glare. "You're insane."

"Maybe," she shrugged, stopping at a red light. "But you're alive, aren't you?"

He exhaled shakily, running a hand through his hair. "Barely."

The light turned green, and Scarlett drove forward with a surprising calmness, as though the chaos of the last few minutes had never happened.

For a moment, neither of them spoke, the tension hanging thick in the air, until Killian finally broke it. "Actually, what's your deal, Scarlett?"

She raised a brow. "You'll have to be more specific."

"You know exactly what I mean." He leaned toward her, his gaze burning. "One minute you're kissing me, the next you're slashing my tires and pulling stunts like this. What are you trying to prove? And don't even try to deny it, I know it was you."

Scarlett shot him a sidelong glance, her expression amused. "Who said anything about denying it? I just enjoy keeping you...entertained. Don't men usually like mysterious women"

"Mysterious? Entertained?" Killian's laughed humorlessly. "Is that what this is? Some kind of sick game to you?"

She shrugged nonchalantly, her fingers tapping against the steering wheel. "Everything's a game, Killian. You just have to decide whether you're playing to win or to survive."

He stared at her, a mix of disbelief and anger simmering under his skin. "Why?" he demanded, his voice dropping. "You don't even know me. Hell, we just met yesterday, for crying out loud!"

For the briefest moment, her smirk faltered. Something dark flickered behind her eyes, but it was gone almost instantly. She looked back at the road, her grin sharpening into something cold and dangerous. "Maybe I just like watching you squirm."

He let out a frustrated laugh, shaking his head. "You're impossible."

When the car finally pulled up outside his apartment building, Killian didn't wait.

He shoved the door open and stepped out, slamming it behind him. "Thanks for the ride," he said flatly, his tone dripping with sarcasm before turning around without waiting for a response.

Halfway up the stairs, a thought struck him, a single question he should have probably asked sooner.

He stopped, his brow furrowing.

Turning around, he jogged back to the car and tapped his knuckles sharply on the window.

Scarlett rolled it down slowly, her brow raised. "Miss me already?" she teased.

Killian wasn't amused. "How do you know where I live?"

Her smirk deepened, her amusement practically radiating from her. "You're asking me that..."

"SHUT UP!" he voice rose, hhis carefully built patience finally snapping. "I said, how do you know where I live?!"

The smile vanished from Scarlett's face like a snuffed-out flame. Her gaze darkened, her eyes narrowing.

Before he could react, her hand shot out, grabbing his jaw with a force that made him wince.

"Listen to me, kid," she hissed, her voice low and venomous. "Don't you ever speak to me in that manner again. The only person who ever had the right to talk to me that way died a long time ago, so you better know your place, got it?"

Her nails bit into his skin, sharp enough to draw blood. Killian grimaced, his hands gripping her wrist in an attempt to push her off but his grip useless against her strength.

But then suddenly, something strange happened.

Scarlett froze, her breath hitching as her pupils dilated. A shiver ran through her, and a soft, involuntary moan escaped her lips. "Aaah."

Killian stared, shocked.

What the fuck!

Her grip tightened for a moment before she abruptly let go, her hand trembling as she pulled it back.

Killian staggered, his fingers brushing the thin trail of blood on his jaw.

He stared at her with anger and disbelief. "You're a crazy woman," he muttered, backing away before turning on his heel and heading up the stairs without looking back.

Scarlett remained frozen, her gaze fixed on his retreating form.

Her breathing was uneven, her chest rising and falling as though she'd run a marathon. Slowly, her eyes drifted to her hand.

A single drop of blood clung to her fingertip, dark and glistening under the streetlights.

Her stomach twisted, a wave of unease washing over her. Her lips parted as if to speak, but no words came.

What the hell was that?

It felt almost...pleasurable.

---

Killian stormed up the stairs, his jaw tight and his mind racing. His fingers brushed against lhis jaw where Scarlett's nails had dug into his skin, leaving behind faint streaks of blood.

It wasn't the pain that bothered him.

Hell no! It was the embarrassment.

What would his men say if they knew that he'd been overpowered by a girl, brought nearly to tears with just one grip?

He wasn't a proud man, not in the conventional sense at least.

But he still had his dignity.

And now that quiet, unspoken dignity of a man had been shattered. And worse, it hadn't been by a monster or a giant.

It had been broken by someone who, at a glance, seemed so…fragile.

"Crazy woman," he muttered under his breath, shaking his head as he reached his apartment door. His fingers paused on the doorknob, his eyes narrowing.

Unlocked.

He sighed through his teeth, a bitter laugh slipping out.

Of course.

That bastard left his door open again.

He pushed the door, his sharp gaze sweeping the dimly lit living room.

Everything looked undisturbed at first glance, the same neat, small space he'd left earlier. But the faint scent of gun oil in the air told him he wasn't alone.

"You're sloppy," he said, stepping inside and letting the door creak shut behind him. "Didn't even bother closing the door all the way?"

"Didn't think I needed to."

The voice came from the couch, awfully calm.

There he was, a man sitting like he owned the place, a sniper rifle laid across his lap. His hands moved gently over the weapon, cleaning the barrel with the kind of tenderness that made Killian's jaw clench.

He ran a hand through his hair, his irritation flaring. "You know, for someone who's supposed to be stealthy, you're awfully predictable."

The man looked up, his sharp gray eyes meeting Killian's with a faint smirk. "And for someone who's supposed to be a leader, you're awfully reckless."

Killian ignored him, striding past the couch and into the kitchen. "What do you want, Jarvis?"

Jarvis Hale leaned back against the cushions, the smirk fading from his face.

He placed the rifle on the coffee table with gentle care, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. "You've been quiet. Two days off the grid. People are starting to notice."

Killian unscrewed the cap of a water bottle, taking a slow sip. "Let them notice."

"They're nervous," he pressed, his voice carrying a subtle edge. "And nervous men with guns don't mix well. You know that."

Killian set the bottle down on the counter, gripping its edge tightly.

He didn't answer right away.

His mind was still on Scarlett, he hadn't felt that kind of embarrassment in years.

"You were with her, weren't you?" Jarvis's tone implied that it wasn't a question but a statement.

Killian turned to face him, his eyes cold. "Why do you ask?"

Jarvis didn't answer instead studying him for a long moment, his expression unreadable.

Then he leaned back, spreading his arms across the back of the couch. "When do you plan to kill her?"

Killian's jaw tightened.

His mind flickered back to the kids, his bike, the car, and the defeat.

She'd been toying with him, pushing buttons he didn't even know he had.

He exhaled slowly, leaning back against the counter.

He didn't look at Jarvis as he answered, "Tomorrow."