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I take a step forward, closing the distance between us, and before I can second-guess myself, I lean in to hug him.

He slips his arms around me, patting my back in that familiar, soothing way, and for a second I want to pretend this is all a horrible nightmare. But I know I’m no longer dealing with the Clemenza who attended my recitals. This man is a stranger wearing his face.

I pull back, smiling up at him like nothing’s wrong. “Thank you, Clemenza. You’re always the best.” The words taste like acid.

I turn and walk out, my fingers crushing the water bottle, plastic crinkling as water sloshes over my whitened knuckles. My pulse drowns out my footsteps as I climb the stairs with my trembling legs. Inside my room, I lock the door and slump against it, exhaling shakily.

Holy fuck. I’m screwed.

I yank off my purse, fishing out my dead phone with shaky fingers. I plug it in and watch the black screen until it flickers to life.

Notifications flood in—a few from Diego and Clemenza and a barrage from Delilah.

My stomach knots as I scroll through Delilah’s increasingly frantic texts:

Luna, what’s the holdup?

Come out NOW, or I’m coming after you!

WHERE ARE YOU!!!

Please tell me you’re okay!

Luna?? Where are you???

My thumb hovers over the screen. She sounds . . . genuinely worried. Could she really be that good? That’s the thing about betrayal—it makesyou question everything, even genuine concern.

Clemenza has just bared his teeth, confident I can’t escape. Is Delilah really involved?

There’s only one way to find out.

11

Luna

I hit call before I can overthink it, my fingers seeking the grounding rough surface of my rune pendant.

Delilah picks up immediately, her voice borderline hysterical.

“Luna! What the hell happened? I’ve been calling nonstop, and then your phone went off! Where are you!”

I force a chuckle, analyzing every tremor in her voice. “Take a breath, Delilah. I’m home now.”

“Take a breath? Where the hell were you!” Her voice cracks. “I was worried sick!”

Shoving aside the gnawing guilt—I focus on listening for clues. “You know the guy from last night—Rocky? He followed me into the bathroom.”

A long pause. “And?”

“He took me home.”

“You left with him? Are you insane, Luna? I told you what he is!” The shock in her voice sounds genuine.

“He didn’t hurt me, Delilah,” I say quickly. “I mean, it hurt, but I . . . I liked it.” I inject just enough breathless enthusiasm to make it believable.

“You slept with him.” It’s more an accusation than a question.

Okay. Not the reaction I was expecting, telling her I finally got my cherry popped, but hey. The woman was just sobbing with relief. I can’t exactly judge her for not hitting screech-level excitement two seconds later.