Page 5 of Made for Vengeance (Dark Dynasties #3)

GRACE

T he dress Lila held up was ridiculous—a scrap of black fabric that would barely cover what needed covering, with strategic cutouts that left nothing to the imagination.

"Absolutely not," I said, turning back to my Constitutional Law textbook. "I have a paper due Monday."

"It's Friday night, Grace." Lila flopped onto my bed, the dress draped dramatically across her chest. "You've been buried in that book since Wednesday. The paper isn't due for ten days, and we both know you'll finish it in three."

I highlighted another passage, pretending to ignore her.

Lila Winters had been my roommate freshman year at Radcliffe before I moved off-campus.

She was everything I wasn't—spontaneous, outgoing, unapologetically hedonistic.

And somehow, despite our differences, she'd become the closest thing to a real friend I had.

"The club is exclusive," she continued, examining her perfect manicure. "Like, seriously exclusive. My cousin's boyfriend is on the security team, and he says even celebrities get turned away."

"Fascinating," I murmured, flipping a page.

"There's a dress code. Dark colors only. Masks optional but encouraged. Very Eyes Wide Shut, but classier."

I looked up at that, despite myself. "Masks? What kind of club is this?"

Lila grinned, knowing she'd caught my interest. "It's called Tenebris. It's in that renovated church downtown—you know, the one with all the Gothic architecture? They only open on the full moon."

"That sounds like a cult, not a club."

"The line between the two is thinner than you'd think." She sat up, tossing her blonde hair over her shoulder. "Come on, Grace. When's the last time you did something just for fun? Something your father would hate?"

She'd hit my weak spot, and she knew it. I closed my textbook with a sigh.

"I don't have anything to wear."

Lila's smile was triumphant. "That's why I brought options."

Two hours later, I stood in front of my bathroom mirror, barely recognizing myself.

The dress Lila had finally convinced me to wear wasn't the original scrap of fabric, but it was still more daring than anything in my closet—a deep navy silk that clung to my curves before falling to mid-thigh, with a neckline that plunged just low enough to be interesting without being vulgar.

My hair was loose, falling in blonde waves down my back, and Lila had insisted on smoky eyeshadow that made my blue eyes look almost violet in the dim light.

"See?" Lila appeared behind me, resplendent in a crimson dress that matched her lipstick. "You clean up nice, counselor."

I rolled my eyes, but couldn't help the small smile that tugged at my lips. There was something liberating about looking like someone else for a night. Someone who didn't carry the weight of the O'Sullivan name. Someone who could just... exist.

"One condition," I said, turning to face her. "No phones. No social media. No evidence."

Lila raised an eyebrow. "Worried Daddy will find out his perfect daughter knows how to have fun?"

"Something like that."

She shrugged, dropping her phone into her clutch. "Fine. Our secret. Now let's go before I change my mind about bringing you. The Uber's waiting."

The ride downtown was filled with Lila's chatter about people I didn't know and parties I hadn't attended. I half-listened, watching the city lights blur past the window, an unexpected flutter of anticipation in my stomach.

One night. One night away from law books and family expectations and the constant, crushing pressure to be perfect. Just one night to be anonymous in a crowd of strangers.

Tenebris was housed in what had once been St. Augustine's Cathedral, a Gothic monstrosity of stone and stained glass that had fallen into disrepair before being purchased by some anonymous investor.

From the outside, it still looked like a church—solemn, imposing, its spires reaching toward the night sky like accusing fingers.

The only indication that it was now something else was the discreet line of people at the side entrance, all dressed in dark colors, many wearing elaborate masks that glinted in the moonlight.

"Are you sure about this?" I asked as our Uber pulled up to the curb.

Lila's smile was wicked. "Not even a little bit. That's what makes it fun."

We joined the line, Lila immediately striking up a conversation with the couple in front of us—a tall man in a tailored suit and a woman whose silver mask covered the upper half of her face, leaving only crimson lips visible.

I hung back, suddenly self-conscious. This wasn't my world. These weren't my people. I belonged in libraries and lecture halls, not exclusive clubs in converted churches.

"First time?"

I turned to find a man watching me, his expression amused. He was older, maybe mid-thirties, with salt-and-pepper hair and the kind of confidence that came from old money.

"Is it that obvious?" I asked, forcing a smile.

"You have that deer-in-headlights look." He extended a hand. "James."

"Grace." I shook his hand briefly, noting the expensive watch on his wrist. "Is it worth the wait?"

He smiled, the expression not quite reaching his eyes. "That depends on what you're looking for."

Before I could respond, Lila grabbed my arm, pulling me forward as the line moved. "Stop flirting with strange men," she hissed in my ear. "We're almost in."

The entrance was guarded by two men in black suits, their faces impassive as they checked IDs and scanned a tablet. When we reached them, Lila gave her name and mentioned her cousin's boyfriend. The guard's expression didn't change, but he nodded and stepped aside, gesturing for us to enter.

The interior of Tenebris was nothing like I expected.

The nave of the church had been transformed into a sprawling dance floor, the original stone floors polished to a high shine that reflected the pulsing lights above.

The altar was now a DJ booth, massive speakers flanking it like modern gargoyles.

The stained glass windows remained, but they'd been backlit with colored lights that cast eerie, shifting patterns across the dancers below.

What struck me most, though, was the balcony level.

The original choir loft had been expanded into a full mezzanine that wrapped around the perimeter of the space, dotted with private booths and secluded alcoves.

From up there, you could see everything happening below, while remaining largely hidden in shadow.

"Told you it was worth it," Lila shouted over the music, already swaying to the beat. "Come on, let's get a drink!"

She pulled me toward the bar, which had been built where the confessional booths once stood—a sacrilege that would have horrified my Catholic grandmother. The bartenders moved with practiced efficiency, mixing drinks that glowed under the blacklights.

"Two Fallen Angels," Lila ordered, leaning over the bar with a smile that had gotten us free drinks since freshman year.

The bartender nodded, reaching for bottles of clear and blue liquids.

"What's in that?" I asked, eyeing the concoction warily.

"Don't ask questions you don't want answers to," Lila replied with a wink. "Just drink it. It'll help you relax."

The drink, when it arrived, was electric blue and smelled strongly of licorice. I took a tentative sip and was surprised by the sweetness that gave way to a burning warmth as it slid down my throat.

"Not bad," I admitted, taking another sip.

Lila clinked her glass against mine. "To one night of freedom."

"To freedom," I echoed, the word tasting strange on my tongue.

We found a small table near the edge of the dance floor, perching on high stools that gave us a view of the crowd. The music was hypnotic—a pulsing beat that seemed to sync with my heartbeat, drawing me in despite my reservations.

I scanned the room, taking in the mix of people.

Some were clearly regulars, moving through the space with easy familiarity.

Others, like us, had the wide-eyed look of first-timers.

Most were young and beautiful, but there were older patrons too, watching from the shadows with the detached interest of those who'd seen it all before.

And then there was the balcony level.

From where I sat, I could make out silhouettes moving in the dim light above—figures leaning against railings, seated in booths, standing in alcoves. Watching. Always watching.

A shiver ran down my spine that had nothing to do with the air conditioning.

"Who's up there?" I asked Lila, nodding toward the mezzanine.

She followed my gaze, shrugging as she sipped her drink. "VIPs, probably. People who pay for privacy."

"They can see everything from up there."

"That's the point." Lila's smile was knowing. "Some people like to watch."

I took another drink, the alcohol warming my blood and loosening the knot of tension between my shoulders. The music changed, shifting to something slower, more sensual. Bodies on the dance floor moved closer, hands wandering, lips meeting in the pulsing darkness.

"Come on," Lila said, grabbing my hand. "Let's dance."

I hesitated, glancing at the balcony again. "I don't know..."

"It's dancing, Grace, not a blood oath. Live a little."

Before I could protest further, she pulled me onto the dance floor, weaving through the crowd until we found a small space near the center. The press of bodies was both claustrophobic and oddly comforting—a sea of strangers moving to the same rhythm, anonymous in the dim light.

Lila moved with the confidence of someone who'd never questioned her right to take up space, her body swaying to the beat, arms raised above her head. I tried to follow her lead, feeling awkward and self-conscious at first.

But as the music flowed through me, as the alcohol dulled my inhibitions, I found myself relaxing into the movement. I closed my eyes, letting the beat guide me, my body remembering rhythms I didn't know it knew.