I close my eyes and for the first time in weeks, I swear I can breathe right. “Thank you,” I whisper, hugging Paris close. “You have no idea how grateful I am.”
“I think I do, darling,” Paris replies. “If anyone does, then it would be me.” He releases me as the song ends, and we bow to each other right before everyone’s heads come up and the chatter rises higher in the room. Turning me in the direction he wants me to go, Paris nudges my back. “Now, go.”
And I do. I run for the exit and I run towards the future I want.
49
NOLAN
There is a commonality in crime, regardless of demographic and type. White-collar criminals are often seen as smarter—more socially competent. Whereas blue-collar crimes are often referred to as street crimes. It’s the difference between tax fraud and murder. Those of the lower classes are seen as more violent and often get harder sentences because of it.
Greed isn’t seen as violent. It is.
Greed is the thing that steals and eats away at an entire populace. It’s done little by little—taking away necessities here, retracting funding there. A society that cannot take care of itself will eventually devolve and yet, those on their pedestals looking down curl their lips at us and callusthe animals.
In the end, we are all animals. It doesn’t matter how well you dress a wolf, he still has his claws and fangs. One wrong move and blood will rain.
“Remember.” Viks leans close as we enter the double doors with our masks in place. “No scenes. Get in, find her, get out.”
“Our families?” I ask, because I have to. Juliet left us to protect them as well as us, and we can’t take her back without a plan to keep them safe.
“I’ve got eyes on everyone,” Viks assures me. “They’re being guarded.”
The invitation sits in my pocket like an anvil, weighing me down as I nod my thanks and understanding to the man. Viks moves away, pausing by Lex’s side and saying something that has Lex stiffening his shoulders but agreeing with tightly clenched teeth. Then, he’s gone, Viks’ big body disappearing through the throng of people at the end of the candelabra corridor.
I reach up and adjust the mask that clings to my face. A woman nearby turns and blanches at the sight of the bone white skull mask with the blackened eye sockets. Just to ensure that no one will feel comfortable enough to approach, I’ve added a bit of fake stitching in makeup across the exposed lower half of my face, making it appear as if my mouth is sewn shut around black lips.
At my side, Gio appears. His own mask is one that covers the lower half of his face in the mimicry of an animal’s open jaw, complete with razor-tipped teeth coated in red—as if he’s just taken a vicious bite out of a prey’s flesh. “The rooms of the hotel are accessed through the elevators,” he says. “We need to find out how to get a key first.”
I shake my head. “No, I think we already have it.”
“What?” Gio’s head turns in my direction. “I didn’t get a key with the invite.”
“We only need one,” I assure him, moving steadily forward through the crowd.
The masquerade is straight out of a movie—complete with glittering lights, an orchestra stringing along music that sounds old, but recognizable in modern twists. Women and men alike are dressed as a cacophony of animals and historical figures from Marie Antoinette to foxes and cats. We three are the only ones adorned as monsters—skeletons and bloodied beasts.
“I don’t see her or Calloway anywhere,” Lex says as he pauses at my opposite shoulder, his own eyes scanning the ballroom through the slits of black in his own mask.
Of the three of us, his is quite possibly the most disturbing and yet, it is also the most adequate. Dressed in a black-on-black suit, the only color on him are the flecks of iridescent blue smattered amongst the hard shell of a mask that, for all intents and purposes, looks like the casing of two actual scorpions. Black and shiny save for the dots of blue, the sides curl into his hair, shaped like the sharp edge of each scorpion’s venomous tail.
Several women shuffle out of our path, fanning themselves and their heaving tits as they blink up at us as we make our way around the edge of the dance floor.
“They’ll be in masks too,” I remind Lex. “Look for her hair.”
“He might have made her change it,” Gio points out.
“The last sighting of her was last weekend,” Lex says. “Her hair was still blue then.”
I only listen dimly to their debate as I examine each point in the room. Finally, I see her—front and center. My legs stop and the guys halt behind me, their conversation silencing as they, too, spot our prey.
Juliet’s dressed in a wickedly sinful gown of black and red mesh. Her hair, that same ocean blue as I recall, is piled atop her head and stuck together with twin silver sticks that are each adorned with some jewel or other. Her mask… if I wasn’t already sure it was her because of her hair, then I would know it by that mask. No other woman here would understand us so fully.
The creeping skeletal hand that’s attached to the simple black lace mesh of her mask is the biggest adornment, stretching across one half of her face, as if someone is pulling her back, bending her in half for a devil’s kiss. My insides burn as I watchher in the arms of a man that practically screams wealth and power.
Red-haired, but young and broad-shouldered, the stranger spins her in a circle, his lips turned up as he laughs and talks to her. Juliet dances with him, appearing every bit as used to this kind of environment as she was with us.
This is where she’s from, remember?an ugly voice pipes up.What makes you think she didn’t mean everything she said? What makes you think she’ll want to come back with you?
