Then the fire came back. Hotter. Sharper.
She leaned in.
Let them watch.
The final notes soared, fierce and unrelenting, crashing like a wave that refused to fall. She didn’t back down. Didn’t shrink.
And when it ended, it wasn’t just applause.
It was a shift in power.
Whoever was watching, they felt it too.
Penny grabbed Arden’s arm,nearly spilling her drink. “Holy hell, what was that? You always crush it, but that? That was stop-the-world good.”
Jade let out a breath like she’d been holding it since the first note. “I’ve heard you sing before. But not like that.”
Rachel crossed her arms, studying her. “That wasn’t just singing. That hitdifferent.”
Arden reached for her drink. “It’s something I used to do,” she said quietly, like naming it too loudly might break whatever spell had been cast.
“Used to?” Rachel echoed. “That wasn’t some nostalgia act. That was a message.”
The air shifted. The table quieted.
Only Arden knew what had really changed.
Because she could sense it, that figure in the back. Unmoved. Watching.
But she hadn’t shrunk.
She’d answered it. With fire.
Her glass was cool against her fingers, but it didn’t help. The adrenaline burned beneath her skin. That fire? Simmering.
But when she looked again, that spot in the back was empty.
Like he’d never been there.
She was half in the moment when Penny’s phone buzzed and pulled her into a fit of laughter, the table coming alive again.
But for Arden? The spark had twisted. Something coiled beneath her skin. A chill. Silent. Sure.
She needed air.
“Be right back,” she said, standing.
Penny’s head snapped up. “Where are you going?”
“I’m good,” Arden raised a hand. “Just need a minute.”
“I’ll come with?—”
“No.” Too fast. “Stay. Enjoy yourself. I need to clear my head.”
“You sure?”
"I promise."
