The music swells again, but it no longer feels elegant.
Not after Valente's arrival.
Not after the way both Ward brothers reacted.
Mira stands near the tall windows, breathing slower now, her gaze still on the shimmering city outside. But the calm she's pretending to feel is paper-thin.
Behind her, the brothers talk quietly—too quietly for nearby guests to hear, but Mira hears enough to know their attention hasn't drifted far from her.
"We need to keep eyes on him," Elias murmurs.
Riven scoffs. "We need to throw him out."
"Not tonight."
"Why not? He's trying to provoke—"
"Because," Elias says sharply, "this isn't the place."
Riven mutters something under his breath that sounds like a curse.
Mira turns slightly, catching their reflection in the glass. Elias stands rigid, jaw tight. Riven looks like he'd tear the chandelier down if it meant winning an argument.
They're opposite in every way, yet both seem tethered to the same storm.
Her storm.
Just for tonight, she reminds herself.
Mira, breathe. Keep it together.
She gathers her purse and steels herself. She is leaving tonight without being dragged into whatever this world is.
"I should go," she says softly, stepping back from the window.
Both brothers turn toward her instantly.
"You can't," Elias says.
Mira blinks. "I didn't ask for permission."
Riven smirks. "She's got a point."
Elias's expression doesn't change. "Valente is still here. There's movement within the rival families tonight. Leaving the estate before the event ends isn't safe."
Mira frowns. "I came here by taxi. I wasn't exactly escorted into a war zone."
"This is a war zone," Riven says lightly. "Just wearing nicer shoes."
"Riven," Elias warns.
Riven raises his hands innocently.
Mira crosses her arms, annoyed. "Look, I appreciate the… concern, but I am not staying in this place any longer. I've done my part. I want to go home."
"It isn't safe," Elias repeats.
Her frustration spikes. "Why are you both acting like I matter that much?"
Riven's gaze flickers—something unreadable, dark, intrigued.
Elias's jaw flexes, but he remains silent.
Because you do.
Mira tries to push the thought aside.
"Mrs. Bianchi will take responsibility," she insists.
"She's not here," Elias says.
"What?" Mira looks around sharply. "She left? Without me?"
Riven hums. "Bianchi does that. She gets starstruck then vanishes like a ghost."
Mira feels heat crawl up her spine—not attraction this time, but anger. I'm alone here. Completely alone.
Her voice turns quiet. "So I'm trapped?"
"Protected," Elias corrects.
"Contained," Riven adds with a grin.
Mira glares at both of them.
This is insane.
"I'll figure it out myself," she mutters, turning toward the exit.
She barely takes two steps before a hand closes gently—not forcefully—around her wrist.
Elias.
She freezes. She feels the warmth of his skin, the steadiness in his touch, the subtle restraint he's deliberately using so he doesn't frighten her.
"Mira," he says softly. "Please don't misunderstand—this isn't about control. It's about safety."
Her pulse thunders at the closeness.
But before she can answer, a different voice cuts through the space.
"Well, well… aren't we cozy?"
It's like ice water down her spine.
Valente.
Mira feels her stomach plummet as she pulls her wrist free and turns.
He stands only a few feet away, wine glass in hand, face too still, too calm.
"Leaving so early?" he asks, eyes sliding down her body in a way that feels like he's categorizing her, calculating her worth. "The night is young, Miss…"
"Mira," she says stiffly.
Valente's smile sharpens. "Mira. A lovely name."
Elias steps between them immediately. "She's with us."
Valente raises a lazy brow. "Both of you?"
Riven steps forward now, jaw tense. "Back off."
Valente chuckles, swirling his wine. "Interesting. The Ward brothers rarely agree on anything. Yet here you are, united against me. Because of her."
Mira clenches her fists. "I just want to leave."
"Oh, I don't think you do," Valente says, eyes gleaming. "You would have left already if you weren't so fascinated."
Her breath hitches. "I—what?"
Riven bristles. "She's not fascinated with you, idiot."
Valente tilts his head. "Then with which of you? Or is it both?"
Mira's cheeks burn. "You're misreading everything."
But the tension spikes dangerously.
Elias speaks first. "Valente. This is neither the time nor the place."
"Perhaps," Valente agrees casually. "Or perhaps tonight is exactly the time."
His gaze drags over Mira again, slower this time.
"I wonder what makes her so special."
Elias's voice drops to a deadly whisper. "Don't."
"I'm only observing." Valente takes a small step closer—not close enough to touch her, but close enough Mira's heart pounds painfully against her ribs. "A woman like her doesn't walk into a room like this without reason."
"I came to do a job," she snaps. "That's it."
Valente's smile deepens. "Then why are the Ward brothers protecting you?"
Mira feels the room tighten. Guests watch from the corner of their eyes. The music continues, but the rhythm seems to pulse unnaturally, like the gala itself is holding its breath.
Then—
A firm, commanding voice echoes from the edge of the crowd.
"That's enough."
A man older than the brothers steps forward—their father, the head of the Ward family. His presence swallows the space effortlessly.
"Valente," the patriarch says. "You were not invited."
Valente bows his head slightly, mocking. "I came to pay respects."
"You've paid enough," the Ward father says. "Leave."
The air freezes.
But Valente only smirks, gives Mira one last slow, assessing look, and turns toward the exit without another word.
Mira releases a shaky breath she didn't realize she'd been holding.
Riven mutters, "I hate that man."
Elias doesn't speak at all, watching Valente until he disappears.
The patriarch turns to the brothers. "Inside. Now."
Elias nods. Riven grumbles but follows.
Then the patriarch's gaze lands on Mira.
"You," he says, voice deep and unreadable. "Come with us."
Mira's stomach drops. "I—me? Why?"
"You're involved now," he says simply. "Better for us to speak somewhere private."
Her thoughts scatter.
Involved? No. No, no, no. This is not happening.
She opens her mouth, then closes it again.
Elias steps toward her, voice quieter now. "You'll be safe. I promise."
Riven lifts a brow. "Didn't know you made promises now."
Elias ignores him.
Mira hesitates. Fear presses into her ribs.
But something else tugs too—curiosity, dread, a pull she cannot fight.
Finally, she nods.
Elias offers his arm—not forcefully, simply there.
She doesn't take it.
But she walks beside him.
Down the hall.
Past the glittering ballroom.
Into the deeper part
of the estate.
Where the lights dim…
the voices fade…
and Mira steps into the truth of the world she stumbled into.
A world that has already decided she is not leaving easily.
And perhaps not leaving unchanged.