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Scarlett's Play House
Step right up, but be warned: this carnival takes more than just your money.

Scarlett, a red-haired wisp with eyes like storm clouds, craved the macabre. Abandoned long ago by her parents, the thrill of fear was a twisted comfort. The Carnival Hook Up, a twisted celebration of horror and desire, was her stage. But her performance soon became a terrifying reality.

Blue roses, an unsettling calling card, began appearing. Her mentor and childhood friend, James, the charismatic king of the after-hours exotic stage, claimed innocence. Grayson, the carnival's enigmatic CEO, observed her from the shadows, his silence more menacing than any scream. Her protective older brothers, Everest, the hotel magnate, and Nevada, the soccer star turned streamer, sensed the danger lurking. Even Savannah, her twin, a doctor accustomed to life and death, was unnerved.

Two years of unease culminated in a terrifying home invasion. No longer the naive actress, Scarlett was ready. She lunged, tearing away the Ghostface mask, the reveal plunging her into a nightmare far more intimate and twisted than any carnival act. The horror she sought had finally found her and its name was Grayson.

Scarlett's Play House

The evening was a blur of feathered boas, suggestive glances, and whispered fortunes. I lost myself in the persona of Madame Evangeline, the all-knowing seer, my voice dropping to a husky whisper as I predicted love, loss, and unimaginable riches for the eager patrons. The energy of the crowd was infectious, a heady mix of lust and excitement that vibrated through the air.

After my last performance, I retreated to my small dressing room, shedding the elaborate costume and wiping off the heavy makeup. The silence was a welcome contrast to the cacophony of the carnival. As I sat there, sipping lukewarm water, a soft knock echoed on the door.

"Come in," I called out, expecting James or one of the other performers.

The door opened, and Wilson, Grayson's right-hand man, stepped inside. My blood ran cold. What was he doing here?

He hadn't changed much since the gala. His blond hair was still impeccably styled, his red eyes still held that unsettling, almost robotic quality. He wore a tailored suit that screamed wealth and power.

"Scarlett," he greeted, his voice smooth and devoid of any warmth. "I need to talk to you."

"I have nothing to say to you," I replied, my voice sharp. "Get out."

He ignored my demand and stepped further into the room, closing the door behind him. My heart pounded in my chest. I was trapped.

"Grayson wants to see you," he stated, his gaze unwavering.

"Absolutely not," I retorted, standing up and backing away. "I made it clear that night at the gala. I don't want anything to do with him."

Wilson tilted his head slightly, a faint, almost imperceptible smile playing on his lips. "He insists. He says it's important."

"Important for who? Him?" I scoffed. "I doubt that. I have my own life to worry about here and him being gone for months has brought peace to it so both of you leave me alone."

"Let's just say the peace you have might be in jeopardy." Wilson paused as he scanned the room, his eyes lingering on my scattered costume pieces. "Grayson has been... busy and if i was to be honest. So have I. We know all about you Scarlett and if you don't want to ruin the peace we have, I suggest you call Grayson."

My mind raced. What was he implying? His words felt like a veiled threat, directed not just at me, but at everything I held dear – my career, my friends, my family. I swallowed hard, trying to maintain my composure.

"What does he want?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper.

"He'll tell you himself," Wilson replied. "He's waiting."

He turned and opened the door, gesturing for me to follow. I hesitated, paralyzed by fear and apprehension. Going to Grayson felt like walking into a trap, but refusing felt even more dangerous.

With a heavy sigh, I made my decision. "Fine," I said, my voice trembling slightly. "I'll go."

Wilson's smile widened, revealing a hint of something cold and predatory. "Excellent. He'll be pleased."

He led me through the labyrinthine corridors of the carnival, past the bustling food stalls and the brightly lit game booths. The festive atmosphere felt like a cruel mockery of the fear that gripped me.

We reached the edge of the carnival grounds, where a sleek black car waited, its tinted windows obscuring the interior. Wilson opened the back door, and I reluctantly climbed inside.

The car was silent and luxurious, the leather seats cool against my skin. Grayson was sitting in the opposite corner, his face obscured by the shadows.

As Wilson closed the door and the car pulled away from the carnival, I knew that my life was about to take another dark and unexpected turn. The peace I had so desperately craved was about to be shattered, and I had no idea what awaited me in the darkness ahead.

"Scarlett," Grayson's voice finally broke the silence, sending a shiver down my spine. "Welcome back."

Chapter 40