“You recycled the pumpkin, didn’t you?”
“Hey, I upcycled. Not all of us can afford an expensive costume.”
Pointing at my corset and long skirt, I say, “This is from my wardrobe. And I did the makeup myself.”
“It looks amazing.”
“Come on, let’s go find the party of the year!”
Maria bounces in place. “I got us invites!” She slams the trunk and does a drumroll. “Obsidian.”
“How did you score that?”
“My crappy brother isn’t so crappy after all. He’s working there and got us tickets.”
“When did Vincent get that job?”
“He goes by ‘V’ now. Been there a couple of months. Be nice, or he won’t let us in.”
I salute, and we link arms—awkward because of Maria’s size—and end up laughing, and holding hands as we approach the club’s entrance.
V is standing at his post, and his face falls when he sees his sister. Maria twirls at the bottom of the stairs, then struts up to him.
“Jesus, Maria, can’t you ever wear somethingcool?” He shakes his head. “Why can’t you be more like Sophia?”
“She’d be boring if she were more like me,” I defend her.
“Yeah, but she’d look better,” he counters.
With a sigh, he unclips the black velvet rope and gestures for us to go inside. We kiss him on the cheek as the line of people waiting groans.
Maria turns, holding the tickets high. “We’ve got tickets, biatches!”
V’s eyes widen, and I giggle, shoving my friend into the club.
The bass hits me the moment we step inside, vibrating through the marble floors and up into my chest. Obsidian is everything Maria promised—dark, sleek, and dripping with neon. Shadows swirl over velvet-draped walls, red and purple lights cutting across faces hidden behind ornate masks. A fog machine drifts lazily over the crowd, curling around heels and cocktail glasses alike.
I inhale, catching the scent of expensive perfume, smoke, and something a little metallic underneath. My pulse quickens—not just from the music, but from the thrill of being somewhere forbidden, somewhere Papa and his men couldn’t touch me. Not tonight. Tonight, I belong only to myself… and the shadows.
Maria yanks me toward the bar, where people in elaborate costumes laugh and drink, their voices mixing with the deep hum of music. I notice the attention my face draws. The Day of the Dead makeup is striking under the colored lights, my painted skull grinning at anyone daring enough to stare. I smirk to myself—Papa may not have wanted my face hidden, but this way, everyone sees me and no one knows me. Perfect.
“Drink?” Maria leans close, her lips brushing my ear, and I feel the tickle of her laugh vibrating against my skin.
“Something strong,” I reply, glancing around. My eyes land on a corner of the room where the crowd thins slightly, shadows pooling against the black walls.
Maria hands me my drink and then prances toward the dance floor like a little whirlwind in her upcycled pumpkin costume. I follow reluctantly, letting the rhythm of the music pull me in, letting the mask on my face and the anonymity of the crowd make me bold.
And then I seehim.
Tall, broad, the kind of man who doesn’t just enter a room—heclaimsit. Dark hair, leather jacket, a mask obscuring his eyes, but I feel the intensity of his gaze as if it’s drilling straight through me. He doesn’t look at anyone else. Not the laughing girls, not the people drinking too loudly, not even the bouncers at the door.
Only me.
I freeze mid-step, my heartbeat stuttering. Something deep in my gut twists, a dangerous curiosity I can’t resist. I’m notsupposed to notice him. I’m not supposed to feel anything. But the pull is there, electric and undeniable.
“Move it, Sophia!” Maria tugs me forward, laughing, but I can’t tear my eyes away.
The man shifts slightly, and my breath catches. I know I should look away. Iwantto look away. But I don’t.
