The grand ballroom was a symphony of opulence and intrigue, a haven for the elite and the powerful. Crystal chandeliers illuminated the marble floors, their light refracting into a dazzling array of colors that danced on the walls. The air was thick with murmurs of conversation, clinking glasses, and the quiet hum of an orchestra playing in the background.
She stepped into the room, her figure draped in a flowing black gown that hugged her in all the right places, giving her an air of understated elegance. A delicate mask, black and silver, concealed most of her face, though the burns that marred the edges of her neck and shoulders peeked out from the fabric of her dress. She felt the stares-curious, judgmental, predatory-but ignored them.
She wasn’t here for their approval. She was here because the Sovereign commanded it.
Her arrival didn’t go unnoticed. Whispers spread through the crowd like wildfire. Who was she? Why was she here? But no one dared approach her, not when she was escorted by two of the Sovereign’s most trusted men, their presence alone enough to silence any foolish questions.
—
Louis stood by the bar, his hand wrapped around a glass of whiskey. His eyes scanned the room, noting familiar faces and unfamiliar ones. Next to him, Natalie clung to his arm, her laugh light and musical, though it grated on his nerves. She had insisted on coming, as always, eager to flaunt her proximity to him.
But Louis wasn’t paying attention to her. His gaze had landed on a figure across the room, and for a moment, his breath hitched.
The masked woman.
There was something about her-something he couldn’t quite place. A tug at his memory, a whisper of familiarity that sent a chill down his spine.
—
Ezekiel leaned against a pillar, his dark eyes scanning the room with calculated indifference. He had no interest in the party or its attendees. The only reason he was here was to gather intelligence, to keep his fingers on the pulse of the underworld.
But then he saw her.
At first, it was just a fleeting glance, a shadow moving through the crowd. But as she stepped closer, the light caught her figure, and his breath caught in his throat.
The mask. The burns. The way she carried herself-like she owned the room despite the whispers and stares.
It couldn’t be.
His heart thundered in his chest as he set his drink down and straightened. His eyes never left her as she moved through the crowd, her movements fluid, almost hypnotic.
He started toward her, his steps purposeful yet hesitant. He was known for his composure, his ability to hide his emotions behind an impenetrable mask. But now, his mind was racing, his pulse quickening with each step.
When he was close enough, he stopped. “It’s you,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
She froze, her back to him. For a moment, neither of them moved, the tension between them palpable. Then, slowly, she turned to face him. Her eyes met his, and though the mask concealed most of her face, he could see the faintest flicker of recognition in her gaze.
“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice calm but unfamiliar, as though trying to mask her true self. “You must have me confused with someone else.”
Ezekiel’s lips parted as if to argue, but the words died in his throat. He wasn’t convinced. He knew those eyes-he could never forget them.
—
Louis watched the interaction from across the room, his grip tightening on his glass. He couldn’t hear their conversation, but he could see the way Ezekiel looked at her, the way his body language shifted from composed to almost vulnerable.
And then it hit him.
He had seen her before. The fleeting figure during that operation, the one he had convinced himself was a ghost.
His heart pounded in his chest as a wave of guilt and regret washed over him.
“Louis?” Natalie’s voice pulled him back to reality, her hand on his arm. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” he said sharply, setting his glass down and pulling away from her. “Stay here.”
Natalie watched him go, her eyes narrowing as suspicion crept into her mind.
—
The masked woman excused herself from Ezekiel and began making her way toward the exit, her steps quick and deliberate. Ezekiel didn’t follow her, though his eyes stayed glued to her retreating form.
Louis intercepted her near the hallway leading to the exit. He stepped into her path, his towering presence stopping her in her tracks.
“Who are you?” he demanded, his voice low but firm.
She looked up at him, her gaze steady. For a moment, neither of them spoke, the air between them charged with tension.
“I’m no one,” she said simply, stepping around him and disappearing into the shadows before he could say another word.
Louis stood there, his fists clenched at his sides. His heart was racing, his mind a whirlwind of emotions.
He didn’t believe her.
He couldn’t.
—
As she slipped into the waiting car outside, the driver glanced at her through the rearview mirror. “Did it go as planned, miss?”
She didn’t respond immediately, her eyes fixed on the city lights outside. After a moment, she finally spoke.
“Perfectly,” she said, her voice colder than ice.
—
Inside the ballroom, Ezekiel and Louis both stood in different corners of the room, their eyes distant, their thoughts racing.
But one thing was clear to both of them.
She was back.