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EVA

The first rule of crashing a mob wedding?

Don’t.

Especially not when your name is sitting pretty at the very top of the 'Do Not Allow In' list.

Yet here I am—waltzing in like I own the damn place.

Looking for trouble. Daring it to find me.

Because when your hacking skills are sharp enough to carve through government firewalls, slipping onto a wedding guest list?

Child’s play.

But this?

This isn’t some overpriced fairy tale wedding with a signature cocktail menu.

It's a cathedral of crime—gilded in gold, teeth bared behind chandelier fangs, humming with blood money and champagne lies.

Every man here is a predator in pressed Armani.

Killers in cufflinks.

Smiles like razors, eyes like loaded guns.

Each one of them could make me disappear.

And me?

I’m the glitch in their perfect system.

The ex who wasn’t invited?—

And still showed up, thanks to my best friend’s beautifully reckless plan.

Halsey’s elbow stabs into my side. “Relax, girl,” she purrs, voice like champagne and sin, lips grazing my ear. “I dragged you here for closure. That—or a front-row seat to Luca’s catastrophic fuck-up. Either way, we win.”

“Somehow, I don’t find this very entertaining,” I murmur, eyes scanning the crowd like it might bite.

Halsey flashes a grin full of teeth and mischief.

“You will.”

Why am Ireallyhere?

Three months of therapy told me I needed closure.

Something about “reclaiming my narrative.”

But the way my pulse is rabbiting against my ribs?

This doesn’t feel like healing.

This feels like walking barefoot into a room full of snakes.