I stood rooted, fists tight, every sense alive with the urge to chase or run.
The threat was gone. But it didn’t prove anything. One supernatural on campus didn’t mean a conspiracy. It could have been a coincidence. There could have been a dozen other reasons she was here.
I exhaled slowly, forcing tension from my body.
Violet is somewhere in this maze. Find her, map her patterns, and get out.
I extended my senses, filtering through the noise. Hearts pounding in lecture halls, laughter from courtyards, footsteps crisscrossing paths. Too much sound, too many bodies. Like searching for a specific horse’s hoofbeat in a stampede.
There.
Violet’s voice cut through the chaos. Sharp edges wrapped in false confidence.
My heart clenched as I heard her say, “I amnotweak. Oubliette is just a place. It doesnotown me.”
Every muscle in my body went rigid.Oubliette. The name of a place I’d hoped didn’t exist in this world, yet. A place that should have stayed buried with my first life. But there it was. Spoken in Violet’s voice, casual as breathing, like she had no idea what kind of darkness that name carried.
I stood frozen on the campus lawn, students streaming past me like water around a stone. My mission had been simple: observe, map, leave.
Instead, I’d confirmed the one thing I’d been dreading.
Violet wasn’t just connected to something dangerous. She was already inside it.
Well, fuck.
Chapter 7
Violet
The remainder of the day passed in a blur. My academic assignments were completed with a distracted inefficiency. I shot poorly and at one point lost an arrow to the woods behind the pasture. It was a shot I should have made with my eyes closed. My post-lesson evening ride with Hyacinth felt diminished; his powerful—and much to my dismay,saddled—gait beneath me barely registered.
If Aaron noticed my sour mood, he didn’t comment on it, and instead he helped me clean up after our archery lesson. Although he spent the whole time grumbling about cleaning up the carcasses left behind by somethinghunting in the woods on the school grounds. I thanked him for his help before I took a quick shopping trip for the outfits I knew I would need.
Throughout the day and regardless of the activity, my nerves were alight with the fire of frustrated anxiety. Knowing that I was auditioning at Oubliette that night forced repeated panic attacks to continuously rise from the deep pit within me.
I had concocted a half-assed plan that relied far too much on other people letting me get my way. Every time I felt suffocated, I closed my eyes tight and recited:Count to ten, Violet. You’ve danced thousands of times at one Oubliette or another for the asshole who bought you. You will be okay.
Having the dorm to myself was serendipitous. After what felt like the millionth time, I tried to finish my makeup, and my shaking handsdropped the eyeliner. I had to pause again.Violet Shaw, breathe! I am not defined by what happened to me. I am a survivor.
The words, though truthful, did little despite how much I wished to believe them. Two lives battled inside me as I prepared for the night. The present me whispered caution and reminded me of everything I stood to lose. Old Violet laughed, bitter and knowing that I was going to possibly die tonight if my plan went awry.
You’ve died and come back once. What’s to think it won’t happen again?
Memories from my first life kept assaulting me as I struggled to get ready. Edward’s mandatory humiliation of naked bodies while wealthy men sipped scotch and placed bets on which girl would falter first led to the pole becoming an instrument of both torture and freedom.
One mistake had meant the cane: blood running down thighs, welts rising on skin, then back up that cold metal. No excuses. No rest. Just climb and spin and pray you didn’t slip in your own blood. Once mastered, the pole meant a night without groping hands or forced sexual favors.
Now, that skill would open doors I needed to walk through, though this body lacked the brutal strength I’d once earned through suffering. There were a handful of moves that I wasn’t sure my softer muscles could perform. I didn’t know if I had the core strength required.
There was only one way to find out.
This time, my fingers trembled as I applied my eyeliner, but I didn’t drop it. When I’d finished my makeup, the mirror reflected back a stranger wearing my face. Someone beautiful and deadly. Someone with purpose.
I am whole. I stand in my power. He does not own me. I own myself.
Final touches were a classy black cocktail dress as I fussed over my sleek hair one last time before I grabbed my bag, stuffed my glittery stage outfit inside, and looked hard at myself in the mirror.
“I can do this,” I said aloud like a prayer. “I amstrong. I amnotweak. Oubliette is just a place. Itdoes notown me.”
