Chapter 51 Fifty one
The bass thumped through the walls of the Blackthorn house like a living heartbeat. Lights flashed from every window—red, blue, purple—strobing across the front lawn where cars were parked crookedly on the grass. Laughter and shouts spilled out the open front door, mixing with the smell of spilled beer, pizza, and too much cheap perfume. The party had started without warning, the way Kai’s parties always did: one text blast, and suddenly the house was full of half the school.
Harper stood in her room, heart racing. She’d changed fast—black skinny jeans, a cropped silver top that shimmered under the bedroom light, hair loose and messy-waved. She glanced at the clock: 9:17. Late. Perfect cover.
She couldn’t just walk down the stairs. Not with people already everywhere. They’d see her coming from upstairs. They’d ask why she was already inside. They’d wonder.
So she went to the window.
It was a second-floor drop, but there was a thick ivy trellis along the side wall—sturdy enough, she’d used it before. She pushed the sash up, cold night air rushing in. Music pulsed louder from below. She swung one leg over the sill, gripped the trellis, and started climbing down.
Halfway to the ground, she heard footsteps on the gravel path.
She froze.
Koda stood at the bottom, arms crossed, looking up at her with that faint, amused smirk.
“Going somewhere, princess?”
Harper cursed under her breath.
“Get lost,” she hissed, dropping the last few feet and landing lightly on the grass. “I’m sneaking in. You’re ruining it.”
He stepped closer. Close enough that she could smell his cologne—something dark and smoky—mixed with the night air.
“I’m not leaving.”
She glared. “I need to look like I just got here. Like I wasn’t already in the house. Go inside. Or better—go away.”
He tilted his head.
“No.”
She tried to step around him.
He moved with her. Blocked her path.
“Stop it,” she snapped, shoving at his chest. He didn’t budge. Just caught her wrists gently—too gently—and held them against his shirt.
“I’m walking in with you.”
“Why?”
“Because I want to.”
“That’s not a reason.”
His eyes flickered—red at the edges, soft but dangerous.
“Because if I don’t, someone else will try to walk in with you. And I don’t share.”
Harper rolled her eyes, but her cheeks heated.
“You’re impossible.”
“You like it.”
She yanked her wrists free. “I’m going in alone.”
She turned toward the front door.
He followed. Step for step. Shadow to her side.
They argued the whole way across the lawn—low voices, sharp whispers.
“Stop touching me.”
“I’m not touching you.”
“Your hand is on my lower back.”
“It’s guiding you.”
“I know how to walk.”
“You’re walking too slow.”
“You’re walking too fast.”
They reached the porch steps just as the front door swung wide.
Catherine stepped out—red cup in hand, glitter on her cheeks, eyes wide when she saw Harper.
“Harper! You’re here!”
Harper froze mid-step.
Catherine’s gaze flicked from Harper to Koda—then back again. She noticed the way Koda’s hand hovered just above Harper’s waist. The way Harper was trying (and failing) to shove it away without making a scene.
Catherine’s lips curved into a slow, knowing grin.
“Is something going on with you two?” she asked, voice teasing.
Harper’s face burned.
“Well—no,” she said quickly. “I just got here.”
Koda leaned in slightly. Voice smooth. Casual.
“I drove her here.”
Harper elbowed him hard in the ribs.
He didn’t even flinch.
Catherine’s grin widened.
“Uh-huh. Sure. You ‘just got here.’ And he ‘drove you.’ From… where exactly?”
Harper opened her mouth. Closed it.
Koda answered for her.
“From the driveway. Obviously.”
Catherine laughed—bright and delighted.
“Okay, whatever you say. But you two look cute arguing like an old married couple.”
Harper groaned.
“We’re not—”
“Come on,” Catherine said, looping her arm through Harper’s and pulling her toward the door. “Inside. Drinks. Dancing. Drama. The usual.”
Koda followed without being invited.
The living room was already packed. Bodies pressed close. Music loud enough to rattle the windows. Red solo cups everywhere. People from school—some waving at Harper, some staring openly at Koda.
He didn’t seem to notice.
Or care.
His hand found the small of Harper’s back again.
She swatted it away.
He put it back.
She glared over her shoulder.
He smirked.
They made it to the kitchen—where Kai was holding court behind the island, pouring shots like it was his job.
He spotted them immediately.
Grinned.
“Finally! Thought you two were gonna hide upstairs all night.”
Harper shot him a warning look.
Koda ignored it.
“Got any moonberry?” he asked Kai.
Kai laughed. “Dude, this is human party. Beer. Vodka. Punch that’s probably 90% juice and regret.”
Koda wrinkled his nose.
“Humans are weird.”
Harper elbowed him again. Harder.
Catherine, still attached to Harper’s arm, leaned in.
“So… how long has this been a thing?” she whispered.
Harper sighed. “It’s not a thing.”
Catherine raised both brows.
“Really? Because he’s literally glued to you. And you’re not exactly pushing him away.”
“I am pushing him away.”
“Not very hard.”
Harper glanced back.
Koda was watching her—eyes steady, red glow faint but there. Like he could hear every word.
Probably could.
She turned back to Catherine.
“Can we just… dance? Or drink? Or anything that isn’t talking about this?”
Catherine laughed.
“Fine. But I’m watching you two. Closely.”
She dragged Harper toward the makeshift dance floor in the living room.
—
The music swelled until it felt like it had weight, pressing against Harper’s skin, vibrating through her ribs and down into her bones. Purple and red lights chased each other across the ceiling, spilling over faces slick with sweat and glitter. Catherine grabbed Harper’s hands and spun her in a messy circle, both of them laughing breathlessly as the bass pounded through the living room.
“For once,” Catherine shouted over the noise, leaning close enough that her words brushed Harper’s ear, “you actually look like you’re having fun.”
Harper laughed, breathless and bright.
And she was.
There was no hand anchored possessively at her waist. No quiet voice murmuring warnings in her ear. No sense of being tracked, measured, claimed. Just music and bodies and heat. Just the dizzy freedom of not thinking about tomorrow.
Catherine gave her one last exaggerated wink before vanishing into the crowd, pulled away by someone waving a glow stick and shouting her name. Harper was left swaying in the middle of the dance floor, the lights blurring into streaks as she closed her eyes and let the rhythm take over.
She didn’t notice the hands at first.
They slid carefully onto her waist from behind—firm but not forceful.
“Hope you don’t mind,” a male voice said near her ear, warm and amused.
Harper turned her head slightly.
He was tall, built like he lived in a gym. Broad shoulders stretched the sleeves of his shirt, and dark curls fell messily over sharp brows. He wore his confidence easily, like it had never once been questioned.
“I’m Mason,” he said, offering a crooked smile. “School football captain.”
Harper blinked up at him, pretending to search her memory. “We have a football captain?”
He laughed, surprised and genuinely entertained. “Wow. That hurts.”
She shrugged, lips curving. “I haven’t heard of you before.”
“That just means I need to make a better introduction.”
The song shifted into something slower but heavier, the bass deepening. Mason adjusted his grip slightly, leaving just enough space for her to step away if she wanted.
She didn’t.
Tonight she didn’t want to feel cornered by invisible boundaries. She didn’t want to glance over her shoulder every few seconds. She didn’t want to measure her smiles or soften her laughter.
So she stayed.
She let herself move with him, matching his rhythm. His hands remained at her waist—steady, warm, undeniably human. He leaned closer, just enough to be heard.
“You always dance like that?” he asked.
“Like what?” she teased, arching a brow.
“Like you’re trying to make someone jealous.”
Her smile sharpened. “Maybe I am.”
Across the room, near the kitchen island cluttered with half-empty bottles and abandoned cups, Koda stood with unnatural stillness.
Kai was talking to him—gesturing animatedly, laughing about something that had happened earlier—but Koda didn’t react. He didn’t laugh. He didn’t nod. He barely seemed to breathe.
His gaze was locked on the dance floor.
On Mason’s hands.
On the way Harper tilted her head back when she laughed.
On the moment she lifted her arms and, in a sudden rush of reckless freedom, wrapped them loosely around Mason’s neck.
It wasn’t desperate. It wasn’t provocative.
It was easy.
And that ease was what hollowed something out in his chest.
Mason grinned down at her. “Guess I’m lucky tonight.”
“Maybe,” Harper replied, her voice light, teasing.
They talked between movements, bodies swaying in sync. Mason told her about the upcoming championship game, about scouts possibly attending. Harper rolled her eyes dramatically at his self-importance and he laughed, unfazed.
She was smiling in a way she hadn’t all night.
Behind them, Koda’s expression shifted.
The faint curve of amusement that usually lingered on his lips disappeared. His jaw tightened. Something dark flickered behind his eyes—something that didn’t belong in a crowded living room full of teenagers and cheap liquor.
Kai finally noticed the silence beside him and glanced over. “You good?” he asked, following Koda’s line of sight.
No answer.
At that exact moment, Molly slipped through the crowd like she’d been waiting for her cue. Her dress clung to her figure, red lipstick glossy beneath the flashing lights. She slid up beside Koda and touched his arm lightly.
“Can we dance together?” she asked sweetly, leaning in. “You’ve been standing alone all night.”
He didn’t look at her.
Her fingers tightened slightly on his sleeve. “I don’t mind keeping you company.”
The movement was sudden enough that she gasped.
Koda shoved her aside—not violently, not enough to send her sprawling, but enough to break the illusion. Enough to make heads turn. Molly stumbled back on her heels, shock flashing across her face as a ripple of murmurs spread around them.
Kai straightened. “Koda—”
But Koda was already walking.
He didn’t rush. He didn’t push.
The crowd simply shifted out of his way as if moved by instinct, creating a slow, widening path through the dance floor.
Harper didn’t notice at first. She was laughing at something Mason had said, her hands still loosely linked behind his neck.
Then she felt it.
A presence.
A shift in the air.
A tap landed on Mason’s shoulder.
Casual. Almost polite.
Mason turned, still smiling. “Yeah?”
The smile faded.
Koda stood there, face expressionless, eyes glowing faintly red beneath the pulsing lights.
“Hey, man,” Mason said, trying to keep his tone steady. “We’re kind of in the middle of something.”
Koda didn’t respond.
For half a second, the room felt suspended—music thundering, lights flashing, but everything narrowed to the space between them.
Then Koda moved.
His fist connected with Mason’s face with a crack so sharp it cut through the music like a blade. Mason’s body lifted off his feet and flew backward into the glass coffee table. The table shattered beneath him, splintering into a spray of shards and spilled drinks.
The music screeched to a halt.
A scream pierced the silence.