I don’t stop walking until I reach the centre of the dance floor.
The music hits like a hurricane.
I throw my arms up.
I move.
I let the beat tear everything loose inside me.
For the first time in years, I feel—Not safe. Not free. Just alive.
Hands brush against my hips—men dancing too close, women laughing, people cheering—and I don’t care. I don’t care about anything except the way the anger winds through the alcohol and turns into something reckless and wild.
Something Kai would recognise.
I climb onto a low table without thinking, without planning, without permission.
The room tilts as I rise above the crowd.
Lights flash off diamonds on my wrist.
My hair spills down my back.
The music shakes the floor beneath me and I dance.
Fuck being perfect.
Fuck being quiet.
Fuck being obedient.
I dance like I’m burning every invisible leash.
I hear my name again—Noah’s voice, sharp and furious—but the crowd swallows him whole.
People cheer.
Phones go up.
The air pulses with heat and attention and danger.
Someone grabs my ankle to steady me, thinking I might fall.
I yank my foot away and laugh—a messy, drunken, rage-soaked sound.
I can almost hear Kai laughing with me.
Or at me.
Or because of me.
His voice curls behind my ear like smoke.
That’s it. Show me you’re still alive.
It sends a jolt through me that has nothing to do with alcohol.
My heart races.
