The gates of Blackthorn Estate loomed ahead, iron and imposing, like the jaws of some ancient beast. Rain tapped against the car roof, a steady rhythm that did nothing to calm the storm in my chest. I clutched the pendant around my neck, its weight both a comfort and a curse. My mother's token. Her lifeline into this world. Now it was mine.
Zaire pulled up to the entrance, his jaw tight as he handed the invitation to the guard. The man's flashlight swept over us, lingering on my face for a beat too long. I held my breath, my fingers tightening around the edge of my seat.
"Masks on," the guard grunted, waving us through.
The driveway stretched ahead, lined with cars that gleamed like wet obsidian under the rain. No license plates. No names. Just shadows and secrets.
Sebastian adjusted his mask in the backseat, the black silk framing his sharp features. "Stay close," he said, his voice low but firm.
I nodded, though my stomach churned. The pendant felt heavier now like it was pulling me deeper into something I couldn't escape.
The doors opened before we could knock.
Inside, the air was thick with perfume and the faint tang of champagne. Masks swirled around us—elegant, grotesque, beautiful. Stags with golden antlers, ravens with jewelled eyes, moths with wings that shimmered like oil spills. Everyone moved with a practised grace, their laughter sharp and their voices low.
I glanced at Sebastian, then Zaire. "We should split up," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.
Sebastian's jaw tightened. "No. It's too dangerous."
"If we don't split, we'll look suspicious," I argued, my eyes scanning the room. "We're supposed to blend in, remember?"
Zaire nodded, his wolf mask catching the light. "She's right. We'll cover more ground this way."
Sebastian hesitated, his gaze flicking between us. Finally, he relented. "Fine. But stay alert. If anything feels off, get out."
I nodded, though the thought of being alone in this sea of masks made my skin crawl.
I made my way to the bar, the pendant hidden beneath the neckline of my dress. The bartender slid a glass of champagne toward me without a word, his eyes glinting behind a mask of silver feathers. I took it, more for something to hold than anything else.
The couple next to me was deep in conversation, their voices hushed but urgent.
"—Chad, Hannah, Andrew," the woman said, her voice trembling slightly. "It's too much. Too close together."
The man nodded, his mask a twisted grin of gold and black. "I heard it might be one of the elites. Someone who went rogue."
My heart skipped a beat. I leaned closer, pretending to sip my drink.
"Or maybe it's someone outside the circle," the woman continued. "Someone who knows too much."
The man shook his head. "No. If it were an outsider, they'd be dead by now."
I forced myself to breathe, to stay calm. Their words swirled in my head, but nothing concrete. Nothing useful.
Before I could hear more, the room fell silent.
A man stepped onto the stage, his mask a featureless slab of silver that caught the light like a mirror. The crowd turned toward him, their chatter dying in an instant.
"Welcome," he said, his voice smooth and commanding. "To an evening of remembrance and reflection."
My stomach twisted.
"The recent losses have been... tragic," he continued, his words measured. "Chad, Hannah, Andrew—three bright souls, extinguished too soon. We mourn their absence, and we pray for justice to find those responsible."
The room murmured in agreement, a low hum of sympathy that felt hollow.
I glanced around, my heart pounding. Sebastian was nowhere in sight. Neither was Zaire.
The man on the stage raised his glass. "To the fallen."
The crowd echoed him, their voices rising like a wave.
I lifted my glass, but the champagne tasted like ash.
The champagne burned my throat as I forced down the first sip. I'd never drank before, and the bitter fizz made my stomach churn. I set the glass down, my fingers trembling, just as the host stepped back onto the stage.
"Ladies and gentlemen," he announced, his voice smooth and commanding, "it's time for tonight's auction."
The room buzzed with excitement, but my blood ran cold. The first item was wheeled out—a painting I recognized from a museum heist last year. Then came jewellery, ancient artifacts, and even what looked like classified documents. This wasn't just a party. It was a black market.
My mind raced. Could this be why Hannah, Chad, and Andrew were killed? Were they threats to the cult? Or were they blackmailing someone? The questions tangled in my head, but before I could untangle them, I noticed the host slipping away with another man. They moved quickly, their heads bent together like they were sharing secrets.
I glanced around, spotting Sebastian and Zaire across the room. They'd seen it too. Without a word, we all started following, weaving through the crowd, careful not to draw attention.
The two men disappeared down a secluded hallway, and we trailed after them, our footsteps silent on the plush carpet. The hallway led to a staircase, then to a study tucked away in the shadows. The door was slightly ajar, and we pressed ourselves against the wall, listening.
"You think I don't know what you did?" a voice hissed. It was Andrew's father, his tone sharp with anger. "Andrew and Hannah covered for you for years. And now they're dead."
My breath caught. I pulled out my phone, recording the conversation.
"You're out of line," another voice snapped. The mayor. I recognized him from the news. "I had nothing to do with their deaths."
"Liar!" Andrew's father shouted, and there was a scuffle. I peeked through the crack in the door just as he grabbed the mayor by the collar. "You used them. And when they became a liability, you got rid of them."
The mayor shoved him back, his face red. "You're insane. If anyone's to blame, it's you. You let your son get involved in this mess."
I froze, my heart pounding. The wood beneath my foot creaked.
The room went silent.
"Did you hear that?" the mayor whispered.
I backed away, my pulse racing. Sebastian and Zaire were already moving, but we didn't know the layout of the house. We turned down a hallway, only to hit a dead end.
Panic clawed at my throat. Footsteps echoed behind us, growing louder.
Then, a hand grabbed my arm, yanking me into a hidden alcove. Sebastian and Zaire were pulled in after me. The door clicked shut, plunging us into darkness.
The footsteps passed by, fading into the distance.
I let out a shaky breath, my eyes adjusting to the dim light. That's when I saw him.
Sebastian's father.
"Dad?" Sebastian whispered his voice a mix of shock and disbelief.
Mr Calloway's face was grim, his lawyer's composure cracking for the first time. "What the hell are you doing here?"
Sebastian stepped forward, his fists clenched. "What are *you* doing here? You're supposed to be at work. Not at some—"
"This isn't the time," Mr. Calloway snapped, cutting him off. "We need to leave. Now."
The argument spilled into the car, the tension thick enough to choke on. Sebastian was relentless, his voice rising with every question.
"You knew about this? About the cult? About the murders?"
Mr Calloway gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles white. "You don't understand what you're dealing with, Sebastian. This isn't some game."
"Then explain it to me!" Sebastian shouted. "Because right now, it looks like you're involved in something illegal. Something dangerous."
Zaire sat in the backseat, silent but tense, his eyes darting between them.
Mr. Calloway's jaw tightened. "You think I wanted this? You think I had a choice?"
"There's always a choice," Sebastian shot back.
The car screeched to a halt as Mr Calloway slammed on the brakes. He turned to face us, his eyes blazing. "You don't get it. They're too dangerous. They killed my Lexie!"
The words hit me like a punch to the chest. My mother.