He pulled me into him.
The ballroom disappeared. The masks, the creatures, the danger… everything faded until there was nothing but his chest beneath my cheek and the steady rise and fall of his breath.
I was exactly where I wanted to be.
For one suspended moment, I forgot I was probably the only human in the room. Forgot about the court. Forgot about threats, bonds, and the entire tangled mess of our lives.
I just felt… safe. Held. Steady.
“Do you see him?” I whispered, my voice muffled against the fabric of his suit.
Cristian’s jaw tightened beneath my temple. “No.”
He didn’t elaborate.
After a breath, he added quietly, “In a few moments, I will need to mingle with some of the stronger vampires present. I know where they are.”
Of course he did.
I nodded, even though the thought of letting go of him made something sink in my chest. “Okay.”
I wished—ridiculously—that the song would never end. That we could stay right there, in this impossibly perfect pocket of calm, where the world wasn’t trying to steal him away, or steal me away, or unravel the string that tied us together.
But the moment cracked. Cristian’s grip on my waist loosened, and I knew immediately that he was in pain. His breath hitched sharply.
He grabbed his head with both hands, a low, strangled sound slipping out between his teeth.
My heart lurched. “Cristian, what’s wrong?”
He winced harder, face contorting. “You don’t hear it?”
“Hear what?” I asked, panic rising up my throat.
He shook his head, eyes squeezing shut. “High-pitched. Like… needles.”
The music didn’t stutter. No one screamed. No one clutched their heads or panicked.
It was just him.
He staggered backward. I caught his arm instinctively—he was heavier than he looked, a solid wall of muscle—but he let me guide him toward an empty table. He sank into a chair, elbows on his knees, head in his hands.
“Cristian, talk to me,” I whispered, crouching beside him. “Tell me what to do.”
He didn’t answer. His breathing was too shallow, too tight.
People moved around us like nothing was happening.
I’d never felt so alone in a crowd.
I fumbled for my phone with shaking hands and texted Lena.
Me:Cristian is in pain. Some kind of high-pitched sound. No one else hears it. What do I do? Ask Ezra now.
Three agonizing seconds later, the typing dots appeared.
Lena:Ezra says it’s the court. Their tech. Some frequency thing—probably something he built. It’s meant to weaken him. You need to get out NOW.
Cold fear drenched my spine.
