The Étoile Gala shimmered like a constellation on earth. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, refracting light unto the black- and-gold marble floors. The elites of Manhattan floated around in gowns and tuxedos, every movement precise, every glance, measured. And me? I arrived like the sun rising, all black sculpted mermaid dress clinging to every curve, a low bun securing my plantinum strands, smoky eyes daring anyone to meet my gaze, and bold crimson lips. I steeped out of my sleek limousine, heels clicking softly against the driveway, the cameras erupting in flashes that felt like fireworks. Every head turned. Every whisper traveled my path. I smiled, but it wasn't polite – it was deliberate. I am Kymara, and tonight, as always, the world would bow to the name before they even saw the woman.
"Only Kymara could make that look lethal." Someone murmured nearby. "She looks untouchable."
I chuckled under my breath. Untouchable wasn't an opinion; it was a fact.
Inside, the room thrummed with life – laughter, clinking glass, and the sharp snap of shutters. I moved with grace, letting my presence dominate the room. I raised my glass of champagne to my lips, sipping slowly, letting the tension slip past me. For a fleeting moment, I thought of Sorella's warnings.
"Kym, something isn't right. Be careful." Typical Sorella, always dramatic. I had survived a massacre, nothing scares me.
A quick glance at the other celebrities' outfit told me everything that I needed to know: I had won tonight. Every dress, every shimmer, every intricate cut and contour – mine outshone them all. Typical Kymara: always aware of her power.
Just then, I noticed a subtle shift in the atmosphere, almost imperceptible. A group of men in tailored black suits entered the entrance, their movements were deliberate, controlled, silent predators moving towards their prey. For a heartbeat the gala quietened, an odd lull in chatter. And then, as quickly as it came, the mumurs returned, the clinking resumed, and the flash of cameras lit the room again.
And yet – something in my gut coiled.
Something is off.
I turned away, brushing it off with a flick of my hair. I didn't do fear. Not in heels like this. I tried to convince myself, but the cold edge in the air whispered otherwise.
I moved toward the champagne counter – where crystal flutes stood waiting on silver trays – and reached for another glass. As I lifted it, I noticed one of the men from the group take the seat beside me. Close. Too close.
"Beautiful night," he said voice low, accent faintly Italian.
I didn't answer, my smile polite but empty, I turned slightly, facing away. The way he smirked, made my stomach twist. I
Couldn't shake the unease that had settled like a weight in my chest.
The moment I took my first sip, my lips tingled. My head felt suddenly… light.
I looked up sharply – the man – one of those black-suited strangers was still beside me. He smirked as if he knew something I didn't.
The world seemed to slow. I knew. I knew my drink had been spiked.
"Чёрт возми," I cursed under my breath in Russian. (Bloody hell).
I pushed off the counter. I staggering, the marble floor rippling beneath my steps. Sorella was right. I shouldn't have let my guard down.
But still, nothing could happen here. Not in a ballroom of people.
I fumbled for my purse to grab my phone – Sorella. I needed to tell her I wasn't feeling right. But my fingers slipped, useless from the sudden weakness, and my phone tumbled to thr floor.
"Damn it," I hissed, bending too slowly.
Before I could reach it, the man crouched smoothly, his hand closing around my phone – and my clutch.
"Excuse me –hey!" I called, my voice rising as he straightened and turned away.
He didn't look back.
The crowds swallowed him up – flashes of glittering gowns and tuxedos, perfume and champagne. Panic surged. I pushed forward, shoving past a pair of laughing guests. "That's my bag! Hey!"
But the music drowned me out. The rhythm, the chatter the toasts. No one turned.
I caught a glimpse of the man moving toward an archway at the far end of the ballroom – not the main entrance – but a narrow side corridor lined with curtains and dim light. A service exit.
What the hell….
I followed, practically yelling now, but no one even looked. My head spun harder with every step. My vision blurred around the edges. I gripped the wall for balance and pushed through the curtain.
Cool air hit me.
Outside.
The noise of the gala dimmed behind me, replaced by silence – the hum of the city far away, the faint rustle of wind. The back courtyard was empty, drenched in moonlight.
"Hello?"
No answer. The man was gone. As if he'd vanished completely.
I kept walking, I got lost. I didn't even know where I was going. Back inside? To the front, where the paparazzi were, where my bodyguards stood? I needed to leave. My bag – my phone – ugh. That stupid bastard.
A sound.
Soft.
Behind me.
My throat felt dry. When I tried to speak, my voice came out cracked. "Who's there?"
Silence.
My pulse thudded. I walked faster, looking around – for anyone, for security, for help. "If this is some kind of joke," I called out, "it's not funny."
My stomach twisted. The night air wasn't too cold, but my skin erupted in goosebumps. I could feel something – someone – watching me. I tried to convice myself this was just the drug, just my imagination.
"I swear to God – show yourself!"
No reply. Only the whisper of movement against the marble floors. I took another step wobbling slightly, my legs weak.
And then…
A breath brushed my ear.
I froze. Every hair on my body stood on end. Goosebumps, not from cold, but from the aura of death, power, and intent.
The scene of expensive cologne filled the air – dark, cold, and intoxicating.
I turned slowly, trembling.
And then –
"Ciao, tesoro," a voice purred, rich and smooth as poison.
Before I could react, a cloth pressed against my nose. My screams choked halfway in my throat, the sharp chemical scent flooding my lungs. My vision blurred, darkness creeping along the edges. Limbs went limp.
The last thing I saw – a pair of ice-blue eyes gleaming in the dark.
I had no idea that from this day on, my life would never be the same.