Assumed the ropes would be enough.
Assumed the crazy Omega would sit there meekly and wait for death.
Wrong. Their mistake.
I pull the dual blades free, letting the stage lights catch the metal, letting them see exactly what they're dealing with.
Their expressions shift.
From confusion to fear.
From dismissal to understanding.
They finally see me.
Not the packless Omega.
Not the nut case.
Not the bait.
But…The killer.
I grin.
Wide.
Vicious.
The kind of smile that promises blood and violence and the specific brand of chaos that only the truly unhinged can deliver.
"And next time, fellas," I say, twirling my blades with practiced ease, "remove all playful objects from your victim’s grasp."
CHAPTER 14
Dancing With Devils
~SAGE~
The message came through from Aphrodite - the bot of hers, Ro.
Three words on a screen, transmitted to my phone through whatever channel Seraphine's AI companion uses to communicate:
Performance hall. Now.
No explanation.
No context.
Just coordinates to one of the theaters on the edge of Ruthless Academy's territory—a building I didn't even know existed until the map populated on my screen.
We ran.
All four of us, abandoning the smoldering ruins of her townhome, leaving behind the chaos of firefighters and gawking crowds and the devastating revelation still burning in my chest.
Seraphine Eastman.
The name echoes in my skull with every step.
