flash
The early morning air felt like cold water slapped against my face as I stepped out onto 5th Avenue. My thrift-store silver dress swished against my ankles, a noisy, glaring sign of a fantasy that was already evaporating into the dawn mist. / Chapter 3 / 8

Chapter 3 - DANCING WITH THE DEVIL

"DOWN!" Ruth screeched.

We threw ourselves to the floor as a rain of silent rounds peppered the drywall above our heads. Plaster dust exploded into the air, blinding us.

"The fire escape!" I screamed to Cassie.

I grabbed Cassie’s wrist and yanked her toward the kitchen window—the very fire escape I had spent years painting. Ruth’s security guards burst into the room, returning fire with silenced pistols as we scrambled out into the freezing morning air.

"Go, go, go!" Cassie cried, flying down the iron steps.

We hit the alleyway just as an unmarked black sedan screeched around the corner, blocking the exit. The doors flew open.

I braced myself to run, but the man who stepped out wasn't one of Ruth’s goons or a police officer.

It was Julian Vance.

He wore the same tailored evening trousers from last night, but his white shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, roll-sleeved, and splattered with dry blood across the left cuff. His silver mask was gone, revealing a face forged from ruthless sharp angles, dark restless eyes, and an expression of pure, unadulterated fury.

"Nora," he said. His voice was the same deep, hypnotic murmur that had whispered against my neck hours ago—only now, it carried the weight of a death sentence.

"Stay back!" I grabbed a heavy metal trash can lid, holding it like a shield. "I didn't take your file! I didn't hurt anyone!"

Julian walked toward me slowly, ignoring the trash lid entirely. He stopped two feet away. The scent of sandalwood, rain, and faint copper hung around him.

"You left your mask," he said softly, reaching into his coat pocket. He pulled out the pearl-trimmed mask with the craft-glued crack near the left corner. "You broke our rule. You left a piece of yourself behind."

"Someone framed me, Julian!" I yelled, tears finally spilling over. "I don't know who Clarissa is! I was just... I just wanted one night where I wasn't poor and invisible!"

Julian stared at me, his eyes searching my face with terrified intensity. He reached out, his long fingers closing around my wrist—not violently, but with an iron grip that left no room for escape.

"I know you didn't do it," Julian whispered, leaning down so only I could hear. "Because the blood on that nightstand... was placed there before you left."

I gasped. "What?"

"You were set up the moment you walked into that ballroom, Nora," he said, pulling me toward the sedan. "And the only way both of us stay alive past midnight is if you play the role they wrote for you."

"What role?"

May you like

The screech of the chopper’s rotor blades vibrated directly through the freezing slate beneath my spine. The blinding white vortex of snow kicked up by the downdraft burned my eyes, but I forced my lids open, locking my gaze onto the amber visor of the rescue specialist dropping out of the sky.

The screech of the chopper’s rotor blades vibrated directly through the...

Daniel stepped toward the bed, his polished leather shoes squeaking against the pristine hospital linoleum. He reached for the tray table, his fingers brushing the edge of the papers. His voice was low, coated in a practiced, corporate calm that made my stomach churn worse than the spiked blood pressure.

Daniel stepped toward the bed, his polished leather shoes squeaking agai...

The silence in the dining room stretched thin, heavy enough to slice with a butter knife. Robert, Michael’s father, adjusted his napkin, completely oblivious to the silent war being fought across the porcelain plates.

The silence in the dining room stretched thin, heavy enough to slice wit...

Julian opened the car door and looked down at me, his gaze blazing with dangerous fire.

"My fiancée."

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