"Yeah," I mutter, watching Zoë disappear into the crowd. "I am."
I stand there in the middle of the party, surrounded by bodies and noise, and I realize I can't hurt her because she's already gone.
A ripple moves through the room. Conversations die mid-sentence. Heads dip. The blue glow of a hundred phone screens lifts like an offering.
My pocket buzzes. Once. Twice. Three times. I don't need to look. I know what it is.
Across the room, Adrian pulls his phone from his jacket. He frowns, taps the screen, then goes still—the kind of still that precedes violence. Declan mirrors him. Dante and Cole stop pouring and check their screens.
The music keeps thumping, but the party is over.
I pull my phone out. Cracked screen lights anyway, stubborn and cruel. The Briarcliff Whisper banner fills it. The headline burns in red:
EXPOSED: GIOVANNI ROSSI'S KILLER PAST.
The floor drops out from under me.
This is the report. Photos. Blood alcohol content. The lies. Everything we buried.
I look up, scanning for threats. My heart slams against my ribs, frantic, trapped. Adrian is already pushing through the crowd toward me. Declan is right behind him. They aren't smiling. They know.
"Hey," someone says to my left. A guy I don't know. A junior. He looks at his phone, then at me. "Is that true? You killed someone?"
"Shut up," I snap, stepping into his space. He backs off, but it's too late. People are staring. Whispers rise, sharp and hungry. The room turns. Hedonism becomes hunt.
"Gio," Adrian says, stopping in front of me. He blocks my view of the room with his body. "Put the phone away."
"Did you see it?" I ask. My voice sounds wrong. Too tight.
"I saw it," he says. His eyes search my face. Worried. I see math. Risk assessment. Containment.
"I'm fine," I say, backing up a step. "I don't need a babysitter."
"You don't need a scene," Declan cuts in. "Everyone is looking."
"Let them look," I say. My palms are slick. "I didn't do anything."
"The report says you did," Dante says from my right.
"It's a lie."
"Then we fix it," Adrian says. Calm. "Here. Now." He gestures toward the hallway. The exit. The gallows.
"I'm not going anywhere with you," I say. Every face is turned toward me. Every phone raised.
Then I see her.
Zoë stands near the stairs, flanked by Clara and Talia. Zoë isn't looking at her phone. Her focus is on me. Sharp. Focused. She sees the panic. She sees the cage.
My body breaks rank before my brain can stop it.
"Zoë," I say.
Her name rips out of me like a confession.
I move.
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