Chapter Twenty Six
Halloween Nightmare
A
rina’s going full cheerleader this year, which honestly fits her perfectly—flirty, fun, loud, and dramatic in all the right ways. She already has her pom-poms ready like she’s about to lead the halftime show instead of host a Halloween party.
And Levy—of course knows I want us to match. He’s going as the prisoner to my cop, which feels a little too on-brand for us.
I can already see it. Me in my fitted uniform, badge shining, cuffs hanging off my hip… and himtrailing behind me pretending he’s the one in control.
I can already feel the energy of it all—people screaming over the decorations, bodies everywhere, and me slipping through the crowd knowing I look damn good and fully in my element.
Yeah… this party’s going to be one for the books.
Bags and boxes cover the living room floor as the three of us dive into decorating. Arina’s balancing on a chair, stretching fake cobwebs across the curtain rod like she’s been training for it all year.
I’m on the rug fighting a tangle of orange lights that clearly have a personal vendetta against me. While Levy sits next to me unpacking skeleton props, arranging each one like it’s some kind of collectible.
He’s such a boy.
“This place is about to look insane,” Arina laughs, stepping down to admire her handiwork.
“It better,” I say through my teeth, yanking at the cursed lights until they finally give in and fall perfectly into place.
“We’ve been planning this for way too long. Everyone we invited is expecting a show, and we’re gonna deliver. And they better show up dressed to kill—no last-minute flaking, and they definitely better be ready to get fucked up.”
Levy glances up from the floor, one brow raised. “Speaking of—who exactly is coming? I only remember, like, half the list.”
“Some people from high school,” I say, plugging the lights in. They flicker to life, casting the room in a warm orange glow. “A few friends from the parties we used to go to… and remember my cousin Shae? She’s bringing her boyfriend. Plus, a few of Arina’s people. It’s should be a good mix.”
Arina hops down from the chair, brushing dust off her hands. “I just want it packed—but not too packed you know? We don’t need randoms trying to sneak in.”
I smirk, already two steps ahead. “That’s why I asked my brother to be security. Y’all know we don’t exactly have the best relationship—he’s a snake-ass asshole—but he’s six-two, built like a wall, and doesn’t play that shit. So, If anyone’s watching the door, I figured it should be him.”
Levy grins. “Yeah good idea, nobody’s sneaking past him.”
Arina points a plastic bat at me like she’s officiating something. “That’s perfect. I trust him way more than I’d trust anyone else.”
“Exactly,” I say, nodding. “If it’s not him, the only other person I’d want at the door is your uncle—but he’s got plans. So, Sonny it is.”
We keep moving around the room, hanging decorations, shifting furniture, tossing ideas back and forth. Every cobweb, every pumpkin, and every ridiculous prop bringing the house closer to party-ready. And I can feel the buzz under my skin.
? ? ?
The day of the party is finally here, and the house is unrecognizable. The backyard looks like a full-on haunted attraction—black lights glowing under the tree, fog machines tucked in corners, fake gravestones lined along the fence. We even built a skeleton archway by the gate so everyone has to walk under it to get in.
It doesn’t even feel like our backyard anymore. It feels like a movie set. And out there, making sure every last detailis perfect, is Levy—focused and sexy as hell with a hammer in one hand, fake blood smeared across his shirt.
After finishing everything, Arina and I drop to the floor to start our makeup, lipsticks rolling under the bed, palettes cracked open, lashes clinging to the floor, brushes scattered everywhere. Her music hums low in the background as we sit around the mirror, blending shadows and sharpening eyeliner with the kind of intensity people usually reserve for red carpets.
Honestly, we’re giving “getting ready for the Grammys,” not “throwing a party in our backyard.”
“This is it, bitch,” Arina grins, curling her lashes. “Our first big party. If it doesn’t end up legendary—I’m blaming you.”
I laugh, lining my lips in red and filling them in slow. “Oh, it’s going to be legendary, just look at us.”
We stand and slip into our costumes, checking every angle in the mirror like our lives depend on it. I pull my police hat lower, tightening my bun until it’s sleek and sharp, then turn to Arina. She’s fussing with the straps on her cheerleader top, giving herself a slow spin before striking a pose like she’s auditioning for the cover ofVogue: Halloween Edition.
