The woman in the mirror was a beautiful stranger.
They had sculpted her into the perfect accessory. Her hair was a sleek, dark cascade, pinned back to expose the vulnerable line of her neck.
The dress, the color of deep wine, was a whisper of silk that clung to every curve, a garment that cost more than a year of her life.
She looked expensive. Untouchable.
A perfect jewel for a gilded cage.
I met my own eyes in the glass, past the artful makeup and the elegant facade. The prisoner stared back.
A single, clear thought cut through the numbness.
This is my armor.
And my shackles.
A sharp knock broke the silence. Finn's knock. It was time.
I opened the door. His eyes slid over me, from my pinned-up hair to my shoes. A checklist. An inspection.
"The car is here," he said, his voice without texture. "Remember your place."
He turned and was gone.
I stepped into the hallway.
The air was different out here. Still and watchful. I could feel eyes on me before I saw them. Anya, the new girl, was frozen in her doorway, a dust rag in her hand.
Her eyes were huge, tracing the lines of my dress. She saw a fantasy.
I gave her a small, tired smile. A silent warning. This is not a dream.
Her gaze dropped to the floor.
I walked on. My heels were too loud in the hush. The other Blood-Bound were shadows in their doorways.
I felt their stares—a mix of envy and pity—like a chill on my bare arms.
And then I saw him.
Danny.
He wasn't waiting for me. He was just… there. Leaning against the far wall, his big arms crossed over his chest.
His head was down, but he felt me coming. He looked up.
The air left my lungs.
His face was a mask of stone. But his eyes… God, his eyes. They weren't angry. They were shattered. He looked at me like I was a ghost he was watching walk away.
Our eyes held.
A thousand words passed between us in that silence. An apology. A plea. A goodbye.
I saw Billy's face then. His bright, trusting smile. My promise. I will be there.
The thread between Danny and me snapped.
I was the one who looked away. I turned my head and kept walking, my heart hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs. I didn't look back. I couldn't.
The main doors of the Onyx Club loomed, two dark slabs of wood that separated my world from his.
A guard pulled one open. A sliver of the cold night appeared. I took a breath and stepped through.
The night air hit my skin, sharp and clean. It smelled of city and freedom.
And there he was.
Darel Gray.
He stood beside a sleek black car, one hand in his pocket.
He was staring at the ground, a faint, nervous smile on his face, like he was rehearsing what to say.
Then he heard me. He looked up.
His smile didn't just fade.
It died.
It was wiped from his face by a wave of pure, uncomprehending shock.
His eyes widened, scanning me, the dress, the club behind me. The pieces weren't fitting together.
"Riley?" His voice was soft, laced with disbelief. "What... what are you doing here?"
The hope in his eyes was the most painful thing I'd ever seen. He had no idea. He was genuinely happy to see me.
For a single, treacherous second, the ice around my heart cracked. I saw the man from the cafe. The one who talked about building things.
Then I felt the weight of the dress. I smelled the foreign perfume on my skin. I remembered Finn's voice. Remember your place.
I let the coldness rush back in, a frozen river smoothing everything over.
"I was told to be ready at eight," I said, my voice distant, as if coming from another room.
I didn't wait for him to open the door. I reached for the handle myself, slid into the dark leather interior, and pulled the door shut behind me.
I left him standing there in the cold.
The car door closed with a quiet, final thud.
The world outside vanished. The only sound was the frantic beating of my own heart.
The scent of him filled the car—that same clean, woody scent from the cafe. It should have been a comfort. It was a violation.
He got in a moment later. The door closed. The silence was a living thing, thick and suffocating.
I stared straight ahead at the dark glass of the partition. I could feel his gaze on the side of my face, a hot, confused brand.
He was waiting for me to break. To be the girl from the cafe.
But that girl was gone.
The car slid to a curb of pure silence. Not the city's noise, but the quiet of immense wealth, a vacuum that swallowed sound.
Through the tinted window, the Gray manor wasn't a building.
It was a fortress of light, a glacier of white stone, bleeding cold brilliance into the night. It didn't welcome. It judged.
The door was opened by a man in immaculate livery. His eyes saw nothing. I was part of the scenery.
I stepped out. The night air was different here. Thin. Scented with frost and rare flowers. It was hard to breathe.
Darel came around the car. His face was pale, his jaw tight. He offered his arm. A formality. A chain.
I looked at his elbow, then at his eyes. I placed my hand lightly on his sleeve, my fingers barely touching the wool. It was a cage of our own making.
We climbed the stairs. A river of jewels and silk flowed around us, a current of effortless power. I was a rock in that stream, my dress suddenly feeling cheap, my skin too bare.
The entrance was a gaping maw. A man in a sharper uniform stood there, a living gate.
"Name," he stated, not asked.
Darel straightened. "Darel Gray."
The man's eyes flickered to a list. A slight, almost imperceptible nod. Then his gaze landed on me. It was a physical search. "And the guest?"
I felt Darel tense. This was it. The first test.
He cleared his throat. "My companion. Riley."
No last name. No title. Just a single, floating name. It hung in the air, naked and exposed.
The man's eyes held mine for a heartbeat too long. He knew. He might not know who I was, but he knew what I was. The uninvited. The plus-one with no pedigree.
He waved us through.
The ballroom hit me like a physical blow.
It wasn't a room. It was a universe.
Crystal chandeliers the size of cars floated in a ceiling painted with gods and monsters.
The music wasn't played; it was woven into the air itself. The laughter was a different language here—sharp, bright, and utterly closed.
And the eyes. Everywhere, eyes.
They slid over Darel with polite disinterest. Then they landed on me.
They were like the man at the door—assessing, calculating, stripping me down to my value.
I was a new piece on the board, and everyone was trying to figure out my worth.
Darel leaned in, his breath a warm ghost by my ear. "Just stay close. Smile. Don't—"
"Don't speak unless spoken to?" I finished for him, my voice a low, pleasant hum. I gave him the Jewel's smile, the one that didn't reach my eyes. "I know the rules of my job, Mr. Gray. You don't need to remind me."
I saw the flinch. Good.
I let my gaze sweep the room, a placid, admiring look on my face.
Inside, I was mapping it like a soldier. Exits. Allies. Threats.
And then I saw her.
Selene Gray. Trevor's wife.
She was holding court near a marble pillar, a glass of champagne like a weapon in her hand.
Her gaze, cold and amused, was already locked on us. A panther spotting wounded prey.
She began to glide through the crowd, her path a straight, inevitable line toward her brother-in-law. Toward me.
The charade was over.
The war was about to begin.
Selene moved like water, a ripple of emerald silk and condescension parting the sea of guests.
Her smile was a perfectly calibrated weapon—charming to onlookers, a sneer for us.
"Darel, darling," she purred, air-kissing near his cheek.
"You actually came. And you brought a... guest." Her eyes, the color of frozen lake water, slid over to me.
They didn't scan me like the others. They dissected me. "I don't believe we've been introduced."
This was the moment. The silence stretched, thin and sharp as a razor. Darel opened his mouth, floundering for a lie, a title, anything.
I didn't let him drown.
I extended my hand, just enough, my posture a mirror of her own polished grace. Flawless and unbreakable. "Riley," I said, my voice calm, melodic. Nothing more.
Selene's perfectly sculpted brow arched a millimeter. She ignored my hand. "Just Riley? How... modern."
Her gaze flicked back to Darel, a silent question loaded with venom. Where did you find this thing?
The urge to shrink was a physical weight on my shoulders. To let the shame they wanted me to feel finally crush me.
But then I saw it. Over Selene's shoulder, through the glittering crowd.
Trevor.
He was watching us, a fresh drink in his hand.
A slow, vile smile spread across his face as our eyes met. He raised his glass in a tiny, mocking toast. Look at you, trying to play with your betters.
A cold fire ignited in my veins.
I let my outstretched hand fall gracefully back to my side, a motion so smooth it seemed practiced.
I turned the full force of the Jewel's smile on Selene, this time letting a glint of genuine amusement show.
"Modernity has its charms," I said, my tone light, conversational. "It's so much less... cluttered than tradition, don't you think?"
Selene's smile tightened at the corners.
I had refused to be shamed. I had refused to explain myself. I had, in the language of this world, held my ground.
Darel stared at me, his shock a palpable thing between us. He was seeing a new facet of me. The one that could cut.
Before Selene could formulate a retort, a new voice, smooth as aged whiskey, washed over our little group.
"Selene. You're monopolizing the most interesting new presence at our gathering."
The world slowed. The crowd seemed to part on a collective, held breath.
Falon Gray stood there.
He wasn't looking at his sister-in-law. He wasn't looking at his brother. His gaze, those ancient, knowing eyes, was fixed solely on me.
A faint, unreadable smile touched his lips.
"Riley," he said, and my name in his mouth was neither a question nor a greeting. It was an acknowledgment. A coronation. A death sentence. "What a surprise?"