The air in the Rossi estate always smelled of cold marble and expensive lilies—the scent of a funeral that never ended.
Seraphina Rossi adjusted the hem of her silk dress, staring at her reflection. To the world, she was the "Rossi Princess," a delicate masterpiece of high-society breeding. To her father, Lorenzo, she was a glass figurine he could never quite protect enough from the wind.
"The driver is waiting, Seraphina," her father's voice boomed from the doorway. He didn't enter. He never did. He just watched from the threshold, his eyes scanning her for any sign of "corruption."
"It's just a university gala, Papa," Sera murmured, her voice like velvet. "I'll be home by midnight."
"Midnight is when the monsters come out," he replied, his jaw tight. "Stay with Kael. Don't leave the VIP section. And Seraphina... remember who you are."
I don't even know who I am, she thought, but she simply nodded.
The Neon Viper: 11:30 PM
The transition from the silent estate to The Neon Viper was a physical assault. The club was a subterranean cathedral of sin, dripping in purple light and vibrating with a bass that felt like a heartbeat against Sera's ribs.
"God, Sera, breathe!" Jade laughed, leaning into her ear over the roar of the music. "Your dad isn't here. Look around! This is Saint Jude's real campus. Not those boring lectures."
Sera tried. She held her glass of sparkling water—Kael had already fetched it, playing the role of the dutiful protector—but her eyes kept wandering. She felt it before she saw it. A sudden shift in the room's temperature. The crowd near the entrance parted like the Red Sea, a collective hush falling over the elite students.
Lyra Vane had arrived.
She looked like something carved out of obsidian and moonlight. A black leather jacket hung off her shoulders, revealing a glimpse of a tattoo—a serpent winding around her collarbone. She was flanked by two others: a tall, sharp-eyed boy (Jax) and a girl with a scar through her eyebrow (Nyx).
"Is that her?" Sera whispered, her heart skipping an erratic beat.
"That's the Ghost," Jade whispered back, her voice laced with genuine fear. "Lyra Vane. They say she spent her summer in a private military camp. They say she killed a man in a street race. Don't look at her, Sera. She doesn't just break hearts; she breaks bones."
But Sera couldn't stop. Lyra scanned the room with a bored, predatory gaze that finally landed on the VIP balcony. For a split second, their eyes locked. Lyra's eyes weren't just dark; they were a void. She didn't look away. She slowly raised a hand, two fingers mimicking a gun, and "fired" at Sera with a smirk that made Sera's blood turn to liquid fire.
Ten minutes later, Sera's skin felt too tight. The heat, the eyes, the look Lyra had given her—it was too much. "I need to wash my face," she told Kael, slipping away before he could offer to escort her.
The hallway to the restrooms was dimly lit, the walls padded with black velvet. She pushed open the heavy door to the ladies' lounge, expecting silence.
Instead, she hit a wall of sound. A sharp, rhythmic gasp. The sound of a zipper being dragged down.
Sera froze.
In the center of the room, draped over the marble vanity, was a girl with platinum blonde hair—Raven. Her dress was hiked up to her hips, her eyes closed in a daze of pleasure. And between her legs, standing with a dominant, effortless grace, was Lyra.
Lyra's head was buried in Raven's neck, her hands gripping the other girl's thighs with a strength that looked bruising. The air in the small room was thick with the scent of expensive bourbon and something raw, something carnal.
Sera should have turned around. She should have run. But she was a virgin who had spent nineteen years looking at Art History books, and this... this was the first time she had ever seen fire.
The door creaked as it began to swing shut.
Lyra didn't flinch. She didn't pull back. Slowly, with agonizing deliberation, she lifted her head from Raven's skin. Her dark hair was mussed, her lips bitten red. She looked into the floor-to-ceiling mirror, locking onto Sera's reflection.
Lyra didn't stop her hand's steady, rhythmic movement against Raven, who let out a broken moan. Lyra just stared at Sera through the glass, her eyes hooded and mocking.
"You're late, Princess," Lyra purred, her voice a low, gravelly vibration that seemed to travel straight to the pit of Sera's stomach. "I was wondering when you'd finally decide to join the real world."
Sera's mouth went dry. Her legs felt like lead. "I... I was just—"
"Watching?" Lyra interrupted, her smirk widening as she watched a blush creep up Sera's neck. "It's okay. Most people do. But be careful, Seraphina Rossi. Looking is free... but touching? Touching will cost you everything you have."
Lyra finally pulled away from a dazed Raven, wiping her hand on a silk handkerchief with a cold, detached efficiency. She walked toward the door, stopping only when she was inches from Sera. The scent of her—leather, smoke, and something dangerous—swirled around Sera like a trap.
"Go home to your cage, little bird," Lyra whispered into her ear, her breath hot against the shell of Sera's ear. "Before I decide to keep you."
She stepped out into the hallway without looking back, leaving Sera trembling in the silence of the marble room, her heart beating a rhythm she didn't recognize.
The cage was still there. But for the first time in her life, Sera wanted to break the bars.