Page 252 of Blackwood

“Yeah. Just… Sabine keeps looking at me like she’s picturing my autopsy.”

I glance over. Sabine stands perfectly still in the corner. Her red gown clinging to her like blood on bone. She hasn’t said a word since we walked in. Just watching. Observing like a damn hawk in bright red lipstick.

“She’s weird,” Haley mutters from behind me while adjusting her emerald earrings. “Hot. But definitely weird.”

“It’ll be fine,” I say softly, turning back to the mirror. “We’ve got eyes on us already.”

Our gowns shimmer in the candlelight. Ellie in golden-pink tulle, Haley in rich emerald velvet, and me in blood red. Floor-length, with off-the-shoulder sleeves and a low back. A crimsonsatin mask rests beside me on the vanity, waiting. Unarmed and exposed, but stunning nonetheless.

“I hate not being able to carry,” I mutter.

Tex’s voice crackles in my comm, low and steady.“Front perimeter is locked. Kenji just checked in. Everyone’s in position. You’re clear to go when Javi gives the signal.”

Nate follows a second later.“Copy that. Ballroom is full. Roman’s still on his way from Italy. Rez and Khoza have the VIP section on their radar. O’Malley’s got the roof. Daniel and his men are covering the exits. Laing’s got the main floor. Briggs just took the upper balcony and Jack’s got the lobby on lockdown.”

“It’s time,” Sabine says handing me my mask.

We file out of the dressing room, masks in place, heels clicking down the corridor like the beginning of a march.

Cade’s voice hums in my comm, soft and calm.“Breathe, sweetheart.”

Lex follows, lower. Darker.“No one’s getting near you, baby. Not tonight.”

The strings swell as we glide in, the hem of my gown sweeping the marble like smoke. Ellie spins past me, her dress blooming like a sunflower, a flash of golden silk and pink rhinestones catching the light. Haley follows, her emerald skirt flickering like a flame, all sharp turns and clean lines.

Josh, Drake, and Sam meet us at the center, crisp in their black suits and matching masks. Hands join. Steps align. The dance turns formal for a beat, a beautiful waltz of poise and precision that holds the room captive.

We spin in pairs, then break apart—only to reform in new lines, new shapes. The floor becomes a chessboard and we’re the queens. Floating. Commanding. Beautiful and deadly.

The violins hit a crescendo. Josh lifts me into a half spin and for a moment, I’m flying, one hand reaching, one heart pounding, the whole world suspended in awe.

And then we descend into the final sequence. Our hands linked, gowns sweeping, and heads high. A single turn. A final beat. Silence.

The ballroom erupts into applause. We bow. Not too long, just enough to show grace and not surrender. Enough to let them know we own this room.

Let the night begin.

The lights dim lower. A bass-line hums through the floor as Knox transitions from orchestral elegance to a darker, sultrier beat. Strobe lights pulse to life overhead, washing the ballroom in flashes of violet and gold. The masquerade becomes a club in seconds—glittering, throbbing, alive.

Lex finds me first, peeling me out of the crowd with one strong hand on my waist. He doesn’t speak, just pulls me into his chest and starts to move with me. The tempo doesn’t matter. I follow him instinctively, heart hammering against the bones of my corset.

Cade joins from behind, brushing my hair off my shoulder, lips ghosting over the shell of my ear. “You killed it, sweetheart.”

They move with me like I’m their axis. Lex leading with sharp and grounded confidence, Cade swirling behind me with heat and care. Their hands trail down my arms, across my hips, up to my neck. I almost forget where we are.

“Tell me you wore this corset for me,” Cade whispers, voice low and teasing against my neck.

“I wore it so our Hollow King would cry,” I shoot back.

Lex lets out a short laugh. “That’s the spirit, baby.”

Over the comms, Nate’s voice crackles through.“North corridor clear.”

“Rooftop’s all good, no bogeys up here,” O’Malley chimes in, his Irish accent curling around the words like a pint at the end of a long night. “Quiet enough to hear a bloody pin drop.”

“Lobby’s clean,”Jack says, clipped and calm.

A beat of silence, then Sabine purrs through the channel,“Perhaps his soul caught wind of what’s waiting here and decided to stay dead. Even shadows fear fire, no?”