The rest of the week passes in a blur of tension and distractions. Whispers still follow me down every corridor, and a few girls look at me with outright malice. Maybe because the boys who rule Blackmoore’s social hierarchy have started orbiting me instead of shoving me out into the cold.
But none of it matters right now.
Not the photos. Not the whispers. Not the guilt.
Because Saturday night is right around the corner. The annual Blackmoore Halloween Dance.
It’s all anyone can talk about. Dresses. Masks. Dates. Drama. Even the instructors have backed off a little, as if giving us space to breathe before another inevitable storm.
And through it all, Dakota is relentless.
“I’m not letting you bail,” she says, yanking open the door to my room Saturday afternoon, garment bags slung over one arm.
I slip behind the folding screen she’s set up and ease the dress on. When I step out, Dakota whistles.
I turn to look in the full-length mirror. The girl staring back is bolder, more confident. Storm-blue eyes framed by smoky liner. Lips soft andglossed. My now silver-streaked black hair has been curled into soft, elegant waves that fall over my shoulders.
I look… lethal.
“Damn,” Dakota whispers, stepping beside me. “If they weren’t already obsessed, they’re about to lose their minds.”
A flush creeps up my neck. “You think so?”
Dakota meets my eyes in the mirror. “I know so.”
I stand in front of the mirror admiring her work. I’m blown away.
My black lace mask frames my eyes perfectly. The corseted dress hugs like it’s molded to me. The slit reveals just enough leg to be dangerous.
For a moment, I let myself believe that this night can just be fun. I can laugh and dance like a normal girl and not some girl that’s trying to get into the thieves’ guild.
Maybe, just for a few hours, I can be more than what those boys try to reduce me to.
The momentI step into the hall, it’s a whole different world.
Everything shimmers.
The chandeliers cast flickering gold over marble floors and draped velvet. Students spin in elegant masks, gliding between columns of smoke and shadow. A DJ plays something dark and lilting from the dais, the haunting music echoing under the arched ceilings like something out of a twisted fairytale.
Dakota squeezes my hand as we descend the stairs. “Heads up,” she murmurs, smirking. “Because everyone is looking at you.”
She isn’t wrong. Conversations dull. Movements slow. A ripple of stares spread like fire through dry brush.
I hold my chin high and let the silence wrap around me like a second gown.
Let them look.
They watched me break.
Now they can watch me rise.
Dakota breaks off to find her date, her laughter trailing behind her. I stay at the edge of the dance floor, pretending not to notice the way people part around me like water. It isn’t fear. It’s curiosity.
Then they arrive.
Tex dons all black, mask a shiny gold. Luca is in dark green velvet with a devil-may-care grin that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. Noah is in sleek navy, his hair a little messier than usual — deliberately so. And Jace, regal in tailored gray and wine red, a predator in polished armor.
For the first time… their eyes don’t scan the crowd.
