The De-Light mansion shimmered under golden floodlights, its glass walls reflecting a thousand fractured stars. The masquerade gala was in full swing—satin gowns swayed, violins sang, and masked men whispered sins into champagne glasses.
Jade stepped from the limo in a blood-red dress that hugged her like armor. Her mask, laced with black thorns, shadowed her eyes. A predator in silk.
Kelz waited near the entrance, dressed in a sleek black tux. His mask was simple, silver and cold, hiding the storm behind his eyes. When their eyes met, neither smiled. There was no room for it tonight.
"Eyes on the target," Mira whispered through their earpieces. She was watching from the surveillance van, patched into the mansion's systems. "Louis is on the balcony. Lauren just arrived—he's with Jayden. You've got thirty minutes before the first vault access."
Jade exhaled slowly, stepping into the lion's den.
Inside, the party pulsed with secrets. Jade's heels clicked against marble as she moved through the crowd. She passed Lauren—laughing, drink in hand. He didn't recognize her. Not yet. But soon.
Jayden's voice cut through the music: "Where's Father?"
"He won't be joining us tonight," Lauren said, clinking glasses. "Too many ghosts in this house."
Jade's stomach twisted. Ghosts, indeed.
Kelz slipped into the hall leading toward the vault wing. His fake biometric chip was pulsing against his wrist—coded by Mira, mimicking his father's DNA.
"Guards at the north wing," Mira warned. "Stick to the ballroom exit."
Jade made her way to the second floor, closer to Louis. Her hand brushed the dagger hidden in her clutch. One down tonight. That was the plan.
But then—
The lights flickered.
A scream sliced through the music.
The crowd panicked. Someone fell. Blood splattered across champagne glasses. A woman in gold slumped to the floor—throat slit.
Not Jade's kill.
Not their plan.
"Abort," Mira hissed. "You've been compromised. Someone else is here."
Jade turned toward the stairs—and locked eyes with a masked man in the crowd.
Not Kelz.
Not a guest.
But he knew her.
And his blade was already drawn.
The masquerade had just begun—and someone else was playing.
Someone who didn't care about revenge.
Only blood.
—