CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

SCARLETT’S POV

Steam curls around me like ghost-white ribbons as I step out of the shower. The scent of lavender wash clings to my skin, calming, but my mind is anything but still.

I pull on something simple—a fitted black shirt, grey slacks, and boots that don’t scream “touch me and I break”—then drag a brush through my damp hair. I don't bother with makeup. The less attention I attract tonight, the better.

When I reach the dining hall, the noise hits me ...