Silver.
Not gray—silver. Like cut gems. Too real to be contacts. Too unreal to make any sense.
And then I see it. A crescent moon scar on his forehead.
Where have I seen that before?
Strangely, I feel like I remember his face.
Is he working for my father?
Panic spikes. I can’t let them lock me up again.
I step back. “I won’t let you monsters lock me again,” I hiss, voice low and sharp as I whirl around to run—
But I don’t get far.
His hand clamps around my arm like a vice. It’s solid. Like stone. And it doesn’t even feel like he’s using full strength.
No. No. No.
I can’t be dragged back. Not before I know what’s happening to Diana. I need to check the Konfetki, the basements, and the private rooms. God knows what sick plans they have for her.
“Lock you again?” he murmurs, his voice dropping.
I twist to look at him again, my voice shaking. “Please…” I try to pull away—but it’s useless.
“So you really are Fedor’s daughter,” he says, a slow, cunning smile curling his lips. That’s not a smile of reassurance. That’s the smile of someone playing a game.
Why am I so unlucky?
“Malec, all of them are back in their cars. Waiting for your update.” A woman’s voice slices through the tension.
I jolt.
She steps into view. No heels, either—slippers. A redhead in a white tank top and jeans, calm and collected. Her eyes shimmer… violet? Quite a gemstone collection here.
What the hell is going on with these people’s eyes?
“Are you okay?” she asks gently, like we’re old friends. Doesn’t even glance at the man gripping me.
“That was a hell of a fall.”
“Who are you? What do you want from me?” I demand, trying to sound firm—but I’m losing control. I can feel it. He probably feels it too.
Then I get a better look at her. Then back at the man—the scar on his forehead. Something clicks.
“You helped my sister… at the bar, right? When she got drunk?” I squint at him. “That was you.” Now I remember. He wanted to send her home safely. I let out the breath I was holding.
The man’s eyes widen slightly. But he recovers fast. Too fast.
He starts scanning me, weirdly. His eyes are focused on something over my head.
What? Is my hair that bad? I probably look like the mess I am.
“So you’re the one who thought I had a thing for minors,” he says with a smirk.
My face burns.
