The bell didn't ring.
It never did for summons like these.
A silent alert blinked across the school's screens—scarlet text against black:
"All students, Conference Room. Now."
I didn't need anyone to tell me what it meant. Whispers had already begun two weeks ago, rumors coiling through the halls like smoke.
The Crimson Masquerade.
I adjusted the silver pin on my collar and slid my dagger deeper into my boot. Just in case.
The conference room was already half full when I arrived—rows of velvet-backed chairs, the school crest hanging like a crown behind the elevated stage. The air smelled of old leather, danger, and ambition. Students murmured in corners, some nervous, others hungry. This wasn't just any tradition. It was the tradition. Where bloodlines flexed and futures were whispered behind masks.
Ren caught my eye across the room and tilted his head in silent warning. Something was off.
Then the doors swung open.
And she walked in like chaos wrapped in confidence.
Long boots. Dark lips. Velvet-red jacket cinched at the waist. Her brown hair spilled down her back in waves that didn't care about rules. A couple of juniors gasped. Someone whispered, "Who's that?"
I didn't need to wonder.
My heart flipped.
"Alice," I muttered, almost under my breath.
Her eyes found mine immediately, and for a brief second, she smiled. That secret kind of smile only I knew—sharp and wicked and real.
But everyone else was already whispering her name:
"Cherry."
Figures.
Of course she'd use her code name. That's how she did things—showy entrances, fake names, dangerous charm.
Cherry didn't walk. She prowled.
And somehow, I knew… everything was about to change.
She made her way through the rows like the room belonged to her. It probably did now. A couple of boys straightened their ties. Someone shifted uncomfortably in their seat.
She ignored them all.
When she reached me, she didn't speak—not right away. Just looked.
Up close, she was all trouble in lipstick and lace.
"You're late," I said quietly.
She raised an eyebrow. "I'm exactly when I meant to be."
Typical.
"Cherry, right?" a senior boy asked behind her, smiling showing off his teeth. Tall. Cocky. Too curious for his own good.
She didn't even glance his way. "Only if you don't value your teeth."
He blinked. Shrunk back.
My lips twitched.
Her gaze returned to me, softer this time. Just a little. "Still calling me Alice, Goldie?"
I gave a faint smile. "Still pretending you hate it?"
She smirked, then pulled me into a hug that smelled like leather, danger, and home.
"I missed you," she murmured into my hair.
I held her for a second longer than I meant to. "Same."
And just like that, the room didn't feel so cold anymore.