But deep down?
I was tired of waiting for Leo to claim me.
Tired of pretending I didn’t care when every dance he stole from someone else felt like another one hedidn’ttake with me.
And the silence?
It was getting louder.
The lights cut out.
For a second, I think it’s part of the ambiance—some dramatic moment before the next performance. But then the music dies, and a hush falls like a warning before the scream.
It starts at the far end of the ballroom—someone shouting, a chair crashing, the sharp yelp of someone getting shoved. Then footsteps, fast and purposeful, weaving through the crowd.
Bodies shift. Panic crackles in the air. Screams and shouts surround us.
A hand grabs mine.
I don’t even flinch. Iknowwho it is before I see him. The feel of his grip, the fire in his presence—there’s no mistaking Leo Holt.
“Come with me,” he growls.
He pulls me through the dark, guiding me past gasps and rustling gowns and confused whispers. We stop behind one of the velvet-draped windows, the moonlight cutting across his face like something out of a fever dream. He presses me back, shielding me.
“What’s happening?” I whisper.
His lips brush my ear. “I’ve got you,Gitanilla.They’re not going to hurt you. Not on my watch. Not tonight. Not ever again.”
And then he kisses me.
Hot, desperate,real. Like he’s drowning and I’m the surface. Like he’s held this in for too long and can't go another second without tasting the truth.
“I’ve missed you,” he murmurs against my mouth. “Baby, I’ve missed you.”
His hand cups the side of my face, like he’s anchoring us in this chaos, and all the noise fades. There’s nothing but his lips, his touch, his voice in my ear. I drown out the chaos in the dark erupting behind us.
“I’ve been working on becoming someone better,” he whispers. “Someone who doesn’t run. Someone who sticks. I can’t explain everything yet, but—Jade—I’ve been getting my grades up. I’m talking to scouts. I’ve got Brown and Yale on the line. Not because of my name.Because of me. I’m working on a full ride, my own way.”
His forehead presses against mine.
“You showed me what that looks like, Jade. You—you made me want toearnsomething for once in my life. Not just take. I love you,Gitanilla. Don’t give up on us. Not yet.”
My lips part to respond—but just then, the lights flood back on.
And the real screaming starts.
People turn, gasping, shrieking, pointing. Blair. Rosalie. Covered in slime and lemonade and something that looks like feathers. Clumps of it cling to their designer dresses and hair extensions, and the mascara running down their faces is already going viral.
"It was her!" Blair shrieks, stabbing her finger toward me. "It was Jade! This is her revenge!”
“What the hell?!” Kannon’s voice cuts through the air. I see him elbowing his way toward me, furious and drenched in whatever chaos just exploded.
Whispers become accusations. Phones come out. Flashbulbs blink.
“Jade, say something!” someone yells.
My breath stutters. “It’s a setup,” I say, stunned.
