O N THE NIGHT OF THE LONG-AWAITED Y OUTH A RT E XHIBITION, they appeared in their most expensive outfits. Slen wore a dark pantsuit and a matching set of gloves. Kidan opted for a low-cut dress in forest green, its patterned bursts of flames sending it ablaze. Yusef chose an extravagant suit studded with diamonds at its cuffs and along its collar. GK was more modest, handsome in a simple suit with his signature finger bone chain. That he’d come to support Yusef made Kidan smile.

Yusef’s art inside the esteemed Umil Gallery was a collection of fragile humanity captured in the lens of expressive charcoal. His chosen smudge style created the effect of a whirlwind of darkness, a theme carried through each drawing.

His last and most important piece was veiled in the corner, awaiting eleven o’clock. Champagne buzzing on their tongues, they browsed together. Even Slen, who complained about Yusef wasting time during their study sessions, examined each piece. Not surprisingly, there was a drawing of Slen, with a streak of white running through her eyes. But there was another one, a boy covering his face with his arm as if he was weeping and a smattering of daylilies floating behind him.

GK studied it for a long time. Kidan walked over to him.

His attention lingered on the flowers. “He creates such beautiful work.”

“He does.”

“How are your studies?” he asked.

“Not as fun without you,” she admitted.

“I miss your voices. I didn’t realize how loud you all were. It’s too quiet again.”

Her chest ached. No one knew about loneliness more than Kidan and yet… how could they include him in their lives right now? He was safer without them.

GK’s simmering eyes pulled at her. She clenched her fists to stop herself from inviting him to their next hangout. Slen joined her, warning in her eyes.

“It’s time,” she said.

The crowd gathered for the final portrait reveal. Yusef stepped forward to stunning applause, beaming.

“Thank you all for coming.” Yusef played with his sigil pin. “It’s an honor to exhibit in the same place my father did, and his father before him. Legacy is a funny thing. You have no interest in it until it’s about to be taken from you. This year, I found out just how much the Umil Art Museum means to me. I want to pay tribute to the man who started it all.”

After another booming round of applause, Yusef grabbed the string and unveiled the picture.

The audience gasped. Slen choked on her drink. Kidan’s champagne glass broke in her hands.

That wasn’t Omar Umil. It was Rufeal’s Woman in Blue , damning and beautiful as ever, staring right into their souls. She was uncleaned, her creator’s blood still staining her chest and neck. Kidan’s stomach drowned to the depths of hell.

“Shit,” Slen cursed.

“Fuck,” Kidan amended.

Yusef remained petrified, staring at the portrait.

“This wasn’t part of his collection.” GK frowned. “What made him change it?”

The crowd waited for a response, but Yusef could only stare. Sweat shone on his brown forehead, and his lips parted and shut, a fish out of water.

“He’s going to crack,” Slen whispered.

Kidan backed away, searching for an escape. There was no fire alarm to pull, no sprinklers above since water would damage the works. Fire could only be extinguished by sealing off rooms one by one.

Kidan swore again, this time under her breath.

Think. Think.

“I’m going to faint,” she whispered to Slen. “Get Yusef.”

“What?” Slen asked under her breath.

Kidan threw her hands up and dropped in the most dramatic fashion into the closest pair of arms. The startled man, bless him, caught her. GK was by Kidan’s side as the crowd turned to look, eyes concerned.

“Give her space. Move.”

Kidan lay on the floor and spotted Slen grabbing Yusef’s hand. They slipped into a storage room.

Kidan got to her feet shakily. “I just need some air.”

“I’ll come with you—” GK started.

“No! I mean, I’m fine. I’m just a little warm.”

She walked away from his hurt expression and followed her friends. Yusef was no longer at a loss for words. He was furious, shaking, and looking directly at Kidan. For a second, she tensed up, confused.

The portrait.

“No,” she said quickly. “It wasn’t me.”

“You told me you got rid of it.” That came from Slen, gaze calculating.

Kidan thought this room was sealed off, because there was no air in her lungs. The look in their eyes was paralyzing, both familiar and made of the hardest of stones. They’d singled her out and made her nightmares true. How could she explain she only kept the artwork to… what? Why had she kept it? She wished she could go back and cut off her own hands.

“It wasn’t me,” she pleaded. “I would never do that.”

Yusef turned away as if he couldn’t bear looking at her. Slen didn’t appear to believe her either.

Slen faced Yusef. “You need to go back out there.”

“No way.”

“You need to talk about why you chose it. Some people have already recognized it as Rufeal’s work. Get out there and explain why you chose to finish his work for him.”

Yusef shook his head wildly. Slen grabbed his face, and he froze.

“You can and will do this, Yusef, or I swear I’ll kill you myself.”

“I’ll help,” Kidan said.

Slen put up a hand. “No. I think we should all keep our distance from one another. Being together all the time isn’t smart.”

It sounded logical, but the thread hidden in the seams was plain: distrust.

With Slen’s guidance, Yusef managed to go back out. He wove a tale of tragedy for the young artist gone too quickly and spoke about choosing Rufeal’s last piece to preserve an artist, to achieve immortality for the mortal. The crowd loved it, but Kidan was on edge, screening each face as a potential enemy.

Were they here, watching them all? Laughing at them? The back of her neck prickled and she whirled around, but there was no clear threat she could identify among the mass of people.