I stood in front of the mirror and held my own gaze.
My grey contacts made my eyes look sharper, almost pretty. The chocolate-brown wig fell to my waist. The light, square-necked dress framed my shoulders, and a gold-embroidered corset pinched my waist thinner than usual.
I stared at the puff of the skirt and bit the corner of my lip. Lipstick bled sweet and chemical on my tongue. My brows knitted.
Severin stepped up beside me, his eyes catching mine in the glass.
Still watching the dress, I muttered, 'I can't do anything in this. It's too heavy. Too big.'
He flicked me a glance, then turned to face me. I met his gaze head-on. In a crisp white shirt and black tie he looked nothing like his usual self, and yet—with the tattoo crawling up to his earlobe and a single black hoop glinting from one ear—he was still unmistakably… him.
He smirked, eyes skating over my gown.
'This is one of the signature pieces from a very famous Italian collection—think Romeo and Juliet, reimagined.'
His hand ghosted over the beadwork, mocking. 'It's fully jewelled. You're not supposed to fight in it.'
He widened his eyes in fake seriousness. 'Just don't ruin the dress, okay?'
Heat prickled my face. I tore my gaze away, grabbed the train in a fist, and stalked towards the end of the hall.
Maybe that was why everything felt so overdone tonight: this wasn't a simple party. The richest, most connected people in the city would be here. A masquerade—so the ugliness stayed hidden—was more than a theme for some glittering celebration.
I lifted a cream-coloured mask from the wooden table. White and gold blossoms crowned the upper edge. My eyes slid to the scale model of the venue and the maps spread beside it.
Footsteps echoed. Severin stopped behind me. His expression had shifted—calmer, colder.
'We should go,' he said quietly.
—
A little later, with the driver Severin had arranged, I stepped out of the limousine. I adjusted the fur coat on my shoulders and took in the scene with careful, clipped glances. A flowering arch ablaze with lights. A stone path funnelling guests towards the doors. Too many guards.
The building matched the plans and the model: vast, extravagant. On paper, the gala supported orphans. In reality, it was cover for a filthy, inhumane auction orchestrated by the biggest gangs and criminal syndicates.
I kept one hand tight on my skirt and scanned the crowd.
Would I see the Doctor? Anyone from the Triad Union? I still hadn't learnt how to face the nightmare that bastard planted in my life.
severin's voice slid into my ear through the hidden earpiece, lazy and amused.
'One, two, three… one, two, three… mic check.'
Passing under the blaze of the entrance lights, I whispered, 'Don't speak in my ear unless it's necessary.'
He laughed. I scowled. He never took anything seriously. It was like the world's worst situations were stand-up comedy to him.
'So,' he drawled, 'how's the weather…?'
'Sunny for now,' I murmured, closing in on the guards at the door.
They were all height and muscle in black suits, matching black-and-silver masks, leather gloves. Dangerous in their sameness.
'Is my name on the list?' I breathed. 'I'm right in front of them.'
Keyboard taps crackled over the line, then severin's mocking surprise:
'Oops… forgot to finalise your invite. I must be getting old.'
He chuckled, outright. I blinked, stunned, as the tallest guard detached from the line and came towards me.
'To get you on the list,' Severin said, maddeningly calm, 'I need the name of their security contractor so I can slip into the system.'
My jaw tensed. My hands curled into fists. Is he insane? How did I let myself get pulled into his game? Is he messing with me? He'd forgotten to put me on the list?
'Don't stress,' he added, mouth obviously full. 'Bad for your skin. Just give me the company name.'
'Madame.'