The door flew open, slamming against the wall as Lyra stormed inside.
"Are you crazy?" Elara jumped to her feet, spilling coffee on the rug. "Did your parents never teach you to knock?"
Lyra ignored her completely, her wild eyes fixing on the photographs scattered across the floor.
"I knew it was you!" Lyra screamed, pointing a trembling finger at Katya. "You are so obsessed with Kieran that you can't even hide it. And now you're obsessed with me!"
Katya laughed—a dry, humorless sound—and rose gracefully to her feet.
"You are right about one thing. Yes, I am obsessed with Kieran. I want to know what he does, where he goes, and who he is with—because it is my duty to destroy him," Katya said, her voice dropping to a terrifyingly calm register. "But you? You are just a pathetic girl who can't get over her ex. I would rather be obsessed with the dirt beneath my fingernails than you."
The words struck Lyra like a physical blow. Her anger faltered, replaced by a sudden, crushing doubt. Maybe she was wrong. Maybe it wasn't Katya who had bought the swimsuit.
"I regret ever being friends with you, Katya," Lyra whispered, tears welling in her eyes. "Since Korra died, you've changed. You stopped treating me like a friend. You pushed me away when I needed you the most!"
"Some things just don't work out, Lyra—"
"Apologies, Miss," a deep voice interrupted. Miguel, the head of security, stepped into the doorway, flanked by two guards. "We aren't sure how she bypassed the keypad codes."
"Ugh... Miguel," Elara groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Could you not find a better time than this?"
"We apologize for the inconvenience, Miss." Miguel answered robotically, clearly missing the sarcasm. He stepped toward Lyra to escort her out.
"Don't touch me," Lyra snapped, shrinking away from the guards. "I can walk myself out."
She looked at Katya one last time—a look filled with seven years of hurt—before turning and disappearing into the hallway.
"Well," Elara exhaled, breaking the silence. "That was... emotional. Give that girl an Oscar." She made a show of wiping fake tears, but Katya didn't smile.
"I'm packing my things," Katya said abruptly, turning her back on Elara. "I have to prepare for the party."
"But... we were supposed to get ready together," Elara said, her voice losing its playfulness. "Katya, truthfully, we need to fix things. I miss the 'Three Musketeers.' Lyra isn't entirely at fault here."
Elara knew she was walking on thin ice, but someone had to say it. Katya had turned into a statue of ice the day her twin sister died, and Lyra, Elara, and the rest of the world had been paying the price ever since.
Katya finished zipping her bag, pretending she hadn't heard a word.
"Bye, Elara," was the only thing she said. She walked out, leaving Elara alone in the heavy, suffocating silence.
[Damien's residence]
The bass was loud enough to rattle the windows. Booze flowed like water, and the penthouse was already flooded with the city's elite.
Damien descended the spiral staircase wearing designer shorts and an unbuttoned linen shirt. His dark eyes scanned the room like a predator looking for a plaything.
"Gotcha," he grinned. His eyes landed on Amira, Poe's cousin, looking utterly bored in the VIP parlor.
He approached her, sliding smoothly onto the couch beside her. "Are you enjoying the party?"
Amira swirled her drink, not even looking at him. "What does it look like, Moretti? I find nothing amusing about this... annual vibe summit."
"Relax, mia signora," Damien grinned, flashing perfect teeth. "The real party is about to begin. You haven't met our VIPs yet."
Amira checked her watch. "Five minutes. If nothing happens within that time limit, I'm forgetting your existence."
***
"Bro, where are you? The party is starting."
"I have errands to run, Damien," Kieran's voice came through the phone, distorted by wind. "And I know exactly what this is. Alcohol and girls. Count me out."
"I told you about this two weeks ago, man," Damien laughed, leaning against the balcony railing. "Besides, it is your kind of party. Especially when girls like Frost are involved."
There was a silence on the other end of the line. Damien's grin widened. He knew exactly which button to press.
"Three minutes," Kieran growled. "I'll be there in three minutes."
The line went dead. Kieran lowered the phone, taking one last look at the city skyline before revving his bike.
[Damien's residence]
"Time's up, Moretti. I gave you a chan—"
Amira was cut off by the screaming roar of a motorcycle engine echoing from the street below.
The crowd cheered as the noise grew louder. Almost everyone was present, except for Elara, Caitlyn, and the Queen herself—Katya.
Lyra stood near the pool, nursing a drink. She had arrived earlier with Poe, forced to wear one of Poe's dull spare swimsuits. Her body was at the party, but her mind was seven years in the past.
It was a stormy night at the Ivanov mansion. Katya's parents were away on business. The 'Fab Four'—Katya, Elara, Lyra, and Korra—were playing hide-and-seek. It was Korra's turn to seek.
Lyra was hiding in the pantry when the doors burst open. Men with guns. Shouting. The housekeeper, Kim, was gunned down before she could even reach for the panic button. She had been loyal, but loyalty didn't stop bullets.
Lyra had peeked through the slats of the pantry door. She saw Korra step out into the hallway. She saw the flash of the muzzle. She saw her best friend fall, a casualty of the war between the Black Czar and the Veleno Nero families. Lyra had screamed on the inside, but outside, she had clamped a hand over her mouth and stayed silent. She had survived because she was a coward.
"Are you okay? You seem lost," Poe asked, gently nudging her arm.
Lyra blinked, the memory fading. "I'm alright. Just... this party is boring," she lied through her teeth.
"You're lying," Poe smiled sympathetically. "It's about the bikini, right? Cheer up. You still look hot in this one."
"Thanks, Poe," Lyra sighed, looking at her friend. "I know I don't always treat you the best. But thanks for sticking with me when everyone else sidelined me. I appreciate you."
"Sheesh, keep the heavy mood for the funeral!" Poe laughed, suddenly splashing a cup of water over Lyra. "Now let's enjoy this rave!"
"Hey! I'll get you for that!" Lyra squealed, chasing her toward the pool.
***
Kieran stormed onto the pool deck, his presence parting the crowd like the Red Sea. He looked furious, his chest heaving.
"Hey, man... I am glad you made it!" Damien stepped forward, arms open for a hug.
Crack.
Kieran's fist connected with Damien's jaw, sending him stumbling back. The music seemed to stop as the crowd gasped.
"You don't get to call her that, do you hear me?!" Kieran snarled, grabbing Damien by the collar. "Only I am allowed to call her by that name!"
Damien wiped a streak of blood from his lip, but he didn't look angry. He looked satisfied. He had baited the beast, and the beast had arrived.
From the VIP section, Amira watched the scene unfold. She looked at Kieran—this burning, possessive monster of a man—and for the first time all night, she looked impressed. She had heard rumors about the Romano heir, but seeing his rage in person was something else entirely.