And eyes?—
God, those eyes.
Even from here, I can feel the weight of them. Calculating. Assessing.Seeing.
Those are the eyes I remember from that night. The eyes that found me dying in the rain and decided I was worth saving. Worthusing.
He's not alone.
Three others flank him in military precision—his pack, his chosen, the ones who've earned the right to stand at his side while others grovel.
To his left: tall and lean, all grace and coiled tension. Someone who understands the language of movement and space. An aerialist.Jett Maddox. The one who knows what it means to trust the silk to hold you while you defy death.
To his right: broader but leaner than Kai, radiating controlled chaos. The kind of smile I can feel even from here—the kind that promises pleasure and pain in equal measure. Blade performer. Circus-trained killer wrapped in charisma.Blaze Vega.
And slightly behind them, almost melting into shadows: smaller, quicker, the kind of person who makes you forget they exist until they're picking your pocket or slipping your restraints. Escape artist. Ghost.Sage Wilder.
The Ruthless Pack.
Sons of the empire. Heirs to the throne. Future kings of a criminal dynasty that spans continents and leaves rivers of blood in its wake.
The same empire that murdered my family.
The same empire that tookeverythingfrom me.
And now they'rehere. Inmytheater. Watchingmyperformance like they have the right.
The madness bubbles up, hot and sweet andperfect.
I finally move.
Slowly, deliberately, I lower myself from pointe. Both feet flat on the stage now. My arms come down in a graceful arc before I bring my hands together in front of me.
Once. Twice. Three times.
Clap. Clap. Clap.
My laughter echoes through the theater—high and bright and just slightly too broken. The lights suddenly blaze to life, revealing everything I've created.
The golden bird cages sway in the sudden illumination, their contents now clearly visible. Bodies in various stages of decay, all positioned like twisted marionettes, all wearing expressions of surprise or terror orpain.
Welcome to my gallery.
Welcome to my madness.
Welcome tome.
"Welcome, welcome!" My voice rings out, saccharine-sweet with an edge that could cut glass. I spin on my toes, arms outstretched, addressing them like they're a sold-out crowd instead of four devils come to collect their dues. "I'msoglad you guys were able to attend my grand finale performance!"
I twirl again, letting my head fall back, exposing my throat before snapping upright with that manic grin still splitting my face.
"It was lonely not having anyone to witness such talent that I haven't performed in years." I gesture grandly at the stage, at the cages, at the carefully constructed nightmare I've built. "But this is what the world of Hard Knot Academy is all about, isn't it?"
My laughter multiplies, bouncing off the walls until it sounds like there are a hundred of me, all laughing at the same private joke about blood and vengeance and the price of surviving when you should have died.
"Or should we call a spade a spade—" I pause, letting my voice drop into something darker, more honest, "—and acknowledge theRuthlesspart of this academy is not for the weak?"
They say nothing.
