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“BITCH!” She’s holding an identical black envelope, her eyes wild. “TELL ME YOU GOT ONE TOO!”

“How did you…”

“Kaylie’s freaking out! It was on her pillow when she got back from showering!” Jessie bounces on my bed. “Avery got one too, but she thinks it’s a trap for human trafficking.”

“I mean…” I stare at the invitation again. “How the hell would Pandemonium even know we exist? We’re broke college students who pregame with Red Bull.”

“Who fucking cares?!” That’s Kaylie, bursting in with Avery trailing behind. Kaylie’s practically vibrating with excitement, her hair still wet from the shower. “We’re going to PANDEMONIUM! Do you know how many times I tried to flirt my way past those bouncers?”

Avery clutches her invitation like it might run off. “This doesn’t make any sense. They don’t even advertise. You need connections to get in there. Like, Saudi prince connections.”

“Maybe it’s a Holiday promotion?” Jessie suggests, but even she sounds doubtful.

I shake my head. “Since when does the most exclusive club in the city need publicity? And how did these get into our rooms? My door was locked.”

“Mine too,” Avery says quietly. “It was in my fridge. Like, inside. Next to the yogurt.”

We all go silent.

“Okay, that’s creepy as hell,” Kaylie admits.

Then Jessie’s face splits into a slow, wicked grin. “Wait. Y’all. What if it’s a reward?”

“For what?” Avery asks.

“For Tyler.” Jessie waves her invitation like it’s a winning lottery ticket. “Maybe Santa’s real, and he’s giving us an early Christmas gift for what we did to that cheating asshole.”

Kaylie cackles. Avery groans and covers her face.

I think about that night. Three weeks ago, right after Avery let herself into Tyler’s apartment with the key he gave her and found him in his bed with some rando. She cried so hard she couldn’t catch her breath. Then, we didn’t even plan it. We just piled into Jessie’s car at two in the morning with a carton of eggs, Kaylie’s pocketknife, and my emergency bag of craft glitter. Kaylie keyed CHEATER into the driver’s side of Tyler’s brand-new Jeep, deep enough to hit metal. Then, she slashed all four of his tires. Jessie egged his place: windows, door, welcome mat… and I dumped an entire bag of glitter into his air vents, then cranked the fan on high. And Avery, sweet, rule-following Avery, stood in the parking lot, sobbing. Then she snatched the last egg out of the carton and threw it at his windshield.

Tyler had to get the whole car repainted and buy new tires. Also paid a detailer top price to get the glitter out. Jessie heard it cost him almost seven grand. His landlord charged him for the pressure washing… and there’s still glitter coming out of his car vents. I suspect there will be until the day he dies.

Jessie shakes her head. “Nobody knows it was us. Tyler thinks it was his frat brothers. They pranked him last year.”

“Exactly,” Kaylie agrees. “So if somebody’s sending us to Pandemonium? It’s not punishment. It’s karma, bitch. Good karma.”

Avery peeks out from behind her hands. “That’s not how karma works.”

“It is tonight,” Jessie sing-songs.

I bite my lip to keep from laughing because that glitter was my idea, and I’m not even a little bit sorry.

I run my fingers over the gold lettering. It feels warm, almost alive. “Y’all notice how the writing kind of… glows?”

“Girl, everything about these invitations is weird as hell,” Jessie says. “But are we really gonna pass a chance to party where Rihanna goes when she’s in the Bay? Where rich-rich people get bottle service?”

“It could be dangerous,” Avery insists.

“Or,” Kaylie grins, “it could be the best fucking night of our lives. When are we ever getting into Pandemonium again? Seriously.”

I look at my girls. Jessie, with her box braids and infectious grin. Kaylie, who’s never met a party she didn’t rock. Avery, who usually keeps us from doing stupid shit… except that one time.

Then, I look at the invitation again. Something about it pulls at me. Like I’m meant to be there. Which is crazy because nothing ever makes me feel this way: I’ve been an omega since I was sixteen, and I have yet to meet an alpha who makes me feel anything special.

“We have a week to decide,” I shrug.

“Bitch, please.” Jessie laughs. “You already know we’re going. The question is: what the hell do we wear to a Krampusnacht ball?”