The mirror cracked again, louder this time. The frost had reached the ceiling, forming intricate patterns that sparkled under the fluorescent lights. A thin layer of ice now coated the floor around my feet.
Something inside me snapped. The last thread of rationality I’d been clinging to broke apart like the mirror behind me. I lunged forward, shoving past Vix with enough force to send him stumbling into the wall.
Pierce moved to block the door, but I was faster, rage and terror lending me speed. I ducked under his outstretched arm and crashed through the bathroom door into the pulsing of the club.
The sudden heat hit me like a wall, but my breath stillfogged in front of me. I pushed through the crowd, ignoring the startled looks from dancers who shivered as I passed. Behind me, I heard Vix calling my name, but the throbbing bass quickly swallowed his voice.
I needed air. I needed space. I needed everything to make sense again.
Most of all, I needed to run.
The digital clock on Mia’s microwave glowed with judgmental brightness. I’d spent three hours staring at her living room ceiling, trying to convince my racing brain that the bathroom incident had been a combination of vodka, exhaustion, and too many Christmas decorations infecting my subconscious.
Mia had accepted my faked migraine excuse with minimal questions, though I caught her concerned glances during the Uber ride back to her condo. She’d offered me tea, Advil, and even her “special” gummies before finally retreating to her bedroom with a gentle reminder that her door was open if I needed anything.
What I needed was a brain transplant. Or possibly an exorcism.
I kicked off the blanket and sat up on the pull-out sofa. The silence pressed against my eardrums with the same intensity as the nightclub speakers, but with none of the distraction. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw ice crystallizing across that mirror and those two men looking at me like I was a bomb about to detonate.
Maybe I was.
My fingers tangled in the hem of the oversized T-shirt I slept in. The condo felt too small, too warm, too... contained. Like the walls might close in if I stayed inside any longer.
I padded across the polished concrete floor, past Mia’s closed door, where her gentle snores confirmed she was asleep, and straight to the sliding glass door that led to her private balcony. But even as my hand touched the cool metal handle, Iknew the small concrete slab wouldn’t be enough. I needed more space. More air.
The roof. Mia had mentioned that the building had a communal rooftop garden that residents rarely used.
I slipped on my shoes without socks, grabbed Mia’s keycard for the shared spaces, and headed for the stairwell. Four flights later, slightly winded and wishing I had taken the elevator, I swiped the card and pushed through the heavy metal door to the rooftop.
The night air hit me like salvation. Cool but not cold, carrying the faint scent of jasmine from the planters arranged around the perimeter. Potted palm trees swayed against the backdrop of city lights, their silhouettes black against the indigo sky. I inhaled deeply, filling my lungs with something that wasn’t panic for the first time since the bathroom incident.
I took three steps toward the railing when a distinct crunching sound stopped me dead.
Not alone.
My body tensed, fight-or-flight kicking in for the third time that night. I squinted into the shadows, searching for the source of the noise.
“Hello?” My voice sounded embarrassingly small.
The crunching paused briefly, then continued.
I edged toward the sound, heart hammering. As my eyes adjusted to the dimness, two massive shapes materialized near a group of planters.
Two enormous, antlered shapes.
“You have got to be fucking kidding me.”
The larger of the two reindeer lifted its head, a half-eaten rose dangling from its mouth like some bizarre floral cigar. Its impossibly intelligent eyes fixed on mine with an almost human expression of guilt.
The second reindeer, slightly smaller but no less imposing, continued systematically destroying an entire row of carefully cultivated succulents.
“Okay.” I pressed the heels of my palms against my eyes. “Okay, so I’m hallucinating reindeer again. No big deal. Probably just stress-induced psychosis.”
I dropped my hands and glared at the animals. “Do you have any idea how many medications I’m going to be prescribed when I tell my future therapist about you?”
The larger reindeer had the audacity to snort, like I’d told the world’s lamest joke.
“Oh, I’m sorry. Is my mental breakdown inconveniencing you?” I gestured wildly at the half-destroyed garden. “You’re probably eating someone’s award-winning roses! I bet she’s eighty-three and talks about these flowers like they’re her grandchildren!”
