prologue
. . .
Catalina
Losing Control by Odd Mob and OMNOM shakes the walls of the club, as bass pulses through my bones like a second heartbeat. Lights flash overhead, strobing over sweat-slicked skin and bodies that move like they’re trying to outrun their shadows.
In the middle of it all, I see them—my girls.
My ride-or-dies. My besties.
Layla’s in her element, blonde hair sticking to her cheeks as she dances like the entire world was made just for her to exist loudly in it. One arm thrown in the air, the other wrapped around Amelia’s waist as they dance to the beat like it’s their last night on Earth. Amelia’s laughing, head tilted back, her long black hair cascades down her back as she spins them both in a messy, chaotic circle. Her phone’s out, recording Layla like she’s the main character in the best kind of fever dream.
I press a hand to my chest, and fuck. My heart could burst. They’re not just my friends, they’re my soulmates. My sisters in every way that counts.
Okay, bitch focus on the present.
Our favorite DJ is having a sick set in Ibiza, and obviously, we had to fucking go. Life’s short. Flights exist. And my father’s platinum card was practicallybeggingto be swiped.
So, I fucking booked it, front row, VIP, zero fucking regrets.
Not like he gives a fuck about me anyways.
The bass hits low and filthy through the speakers, so strong it rattles the marble floors beneath my heels. I can feel it everywhere—in my ribs, my throat, in the space behind my eyes. It climbs the walls like ivy, wrapping around the lights, and sinks straight into my skin.
God, I fucking lived for this.
The way the strobe lights hit the glitter on our dresses, the way the alcohol burns down my throat with each shot, settling like heat in my stomach. The insane visuals that DJs create as if they’re painting the sky. It’s chaotic, loud, messy, and beautiful. It’s freedom in the purest, most fucked-up form.
After losing my mom, it’s the only thing that’s ever made me feel remotely alive.
This quite literally became my religion.
My release. Myescape.
I reach for Amelia and Layla, my fingers curling around their wrists as I tug them toward me with a grin.
“Come on, bitches, dance with me!” I yell, already losing myself in the rhythm, hips swaying like the beat belongs to me.
Layla laughs first, like a hyena, her head thrown back and snorting. Amelia rolls her eyes but moves closer, her smile gentle and knowing.
“I actually can’t believe that your crazy ass booked this flight just to see one DJ perform!” Amelia shouts, amusementcurling at the edges of her voice as she pulls me closer to her.
I flash her a grin that doesn’t quite reach my eyes. “It’s the least my father can do for treating me like shit, and just throwing money in my face instead of spending time with me like an actual dad should.”
Amelia’s eyes soften as she tightens her fingers around my wrist. It’s the look she gets when she wants me to talk.
I’m not in the fucking mood for soul-baring and tear-streaked breakdowns right now.
I toss my hand in the air. “Let’s have some fun, okay? I’m not trying to spiral about my daddy issues in the middle of the dance floor.”
Before she can respond, I grab both her and Layla by the wrists, tugging them toward the bar.
“Let’s go grab some drinksss.” I sing, dragging the word out like it might fix everything.
Layla squeals like I just offered her a backstage pass to Illenium. She takes off like a gremlin in heels she has no business running in. Amelia and I follow, giggling as we weave through the crush of bodies.
Our heels click against sleek marble floors, echoing beneath the throb of the music. The bar glows under a low red light, almost too beautiful to be real. Bottles of top-shelf liquor line the mirrored shelves like art pieces in a gallery curated by someone with a fucking God complex and expensive taste.
