Page 207 of Blackwood

We’re lined up in the wings now, the stage buzzing with nerves, victory sweat and enough glitter to choke a rhinestone. The crowd’s still electric from the last routine and the judges are scribbling like their pens might catch fire.

Ellie’s already holding her first-place plaque, bouncing in her heels with that megawatt smile that makes everyone around her look dim by comparison. She nailed her solo—clean lines, impossible turns, and that damn near airborne back bend she only pulls out when it counts.

Legacy took first too, which means Haley’s been insufferable since they announced it. She keeps flashing her gold medal like it’s a weapon, flipping her hair and throwing fake kisses into the crowd like a cheerleader on a Red Bull bender. I love her for it and I’m so proud of her. That dance was her baby and it was amazing.

Josh and I took first for our duet. Not that I ever doubted it. That routine was sex, strength, and in perfect sync. He lifted me like I was made of smoke and I gave the judges just enough eye contact to make them feel it. When they said our names, he picked me up and spun me like it was prom night.

Now it’s just The Trifecta left.

My fingers are ice. My thighs ache. And I feel like if they say anyone else’s name, I might actually break down in the middle of this stage in front of the entire New York dance elite.

The announcer taps the mic. “And now,” she says, smiling at the judges’ table, “for the final and most competitive category of the day, Small Group: Collegiate Division.”

Javi’s behind us, hands clenched so tight his knuckles are white. Rico has both hands clasped like he’s praying to the gods of fringe, rhinestones, and rhythm.

My heart pounds.

“In third place…” the announcer begins, dragging it out like this isThe Hunger Games. “…The Revenants from Northvale University!”

A smattering of polite claps echoes through the crowd as The Revenants step forward, their smiles so tight they might crack. Maddie stands just a few feet away, her crown slipping, her pride bleeding out in silence. She looks like she just swallowed glass.

The announcer smiles, flipping open the final card like she’s about to crown Miss America. “And in first place…”

I grab Haley’s hand. She grabs Ellie’s. All three of us are locked in a death chain of sequins and nerves. It’s between usand this team of Boston who performed a lyrical routine that was crazy beautiful.

I’m sweating bullets and I swear to God, I know the announcer is trying to pause for dramatic effect, but if she doesn’t open her mouth soon I’m gonna—

“From Wexley University, The Trifecta!”

The crowd erupts. Rico screams louder than the announcer. Javi full-on jumps. I don’t think I’ve ever seen the man’s feet leave the floor before. Haley shrieks. Ellie throws her arms around me. We’re hugging and crying and laughing all at once as someone shoves a plaque in our hands.

I can feel it in my chest, this isn’t the finish line. Not even close. It’s not over. Regionals may be a win, but we’re still a long way from Worlds.

Nationals is next, and if we think tonight was a fight? The next round is war.

The competition’s only going to get harder.

The pressure sharper.

The target on our back, bigger than ever.

Chapter 58

CADE

Regional Competition – Manhattan, New York

702 Days Since Zeke’s Death

She walks out like a goddess. Glitter on her cheeks, lipstick slightly smudged, eyes wild from adrenaline. Hair teased to hell, smile crooked like she just survived war and still won the crown. Which, she did. I step forward and hand her the bouquet of white daisies that I’ve been holding like a damn security blanket. Her face softens the second she sees them.

“Awe, Cade!” she breathes. “I love you.” She throws her arms around my neck and pulls me in for a kiss. It’s fast and sweet and still somehow short-circuits my brain.

Lex shows up a second later like he always does, heat and chaos wrapped in leather and spice. He loops an arm around her waist like he’s claiming territory.

“We did it!” she smiles.

Mom’s voice cuts through like a horn at rush hour. “You three! Get together. I need a picture.”