Laughing.
Lips red from too much wine or too much sin.
She looked happy.
Unbroken.
And it hurt in ways I hadn’t earned the right to feel. Because I wasn’t mourning her anymore. I was mourning the part of me that used to believe we’d both survive.
She had an arm thrown around a man in a dark suit. A Lawlor contract tucked openly under one arm. Careless. Mocking. Alive in a way I didn’t recognize anymore. Alive in a way that burned.
The caption was worse.
Short.
Final.
“Legacy built on loyalty. Loyalty built on secrets.”
No hashtags. No accounts claiming it. Just those words. And the photo that shattered everything. The weight of it crushed the air out of my lungs. A slow, horrible compression.
The collar dug harder against my pulse. A perfect vice. I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. Could only stay still. Because Wolfe hadn’t given me permission to fall. And because falling wasn’t obedience.
Not here.
Not now.
Royal’s low chuckle sliced through the growing silence. Not kind. Not cruel. Just—inevitable.
Wolfe didn’t move. Didn’t flinch. I risked a glance up—just once.Wolfe’s profile cut against the crystal light like something sculpted from darker things.
He sipped his champagne. Calm. Cold. Unbothered. Like the world collapsing around him wasn’t new. Wasn’t interesting. Wasn’t worth blinking for.
I pulled my gaze down again. Faster than I should have. Sharp enough to make the collar dig into tender skin. Pain bloomed under my jaw. Hot and immediate.
I breathed through it. Felt the humiliation crack open wider inside my chest. Because this wasn’t just Camille’s death playing out again. This wasn’t just another fall. This was a reminder:
I was never going to outrun the rot.
No matter how much silk they buried me under. No matter how still I stayed.
The ballroom shrank. Not literally. Not visibly. But it shrank all the same. The walls crept closer. The air thickened. The sounds folded in on themselves. The flashes of screens still sparked at the edges of the crowd. Bright. Hungry. Camille’s laugh echoed inside them. Inside me. It scraped down the walls of my lungs like broken glass.
I kept my head down. Kept my hands still. The silk of my dress clung damp to my bruised spine. The collar chafed hotter against my throat with every shallow breath. My knees locked tight. A muscle in my jaw ticked from holding it clenched too hard. Because I knew if I opened my mouth—even to breathe too sharply—the sound would splinter me open.
I felt Wolfe shift beside me. Not much. Not even enough to call a movement. But I felt it. The ripple of gravity. The change in the air.
The leash pulling tighter.
And then?—
He looked at me.
One glance.
One second.
It cut sharper than a thousand words ever could.
