Chapter 79
Elara
The music hit me like a physical force the moment I stepped inside FLUX. Electronic beats pounded through massive speakers, vibrations rattling my ribcage. Strobe lights sliced through clouds of artificial fog in electric blue and hot pink. Bodies pressed together on the dance floor, a writhing mass of designer clothes and expensive cologne.
I pushed through the crowd, heartbeat hammering louder than the bass. Every second wasted was another second Raven might be—
I shoved the thought away. Focused on moving forward.
The bar stretched along the far wall, backlit bottles glowing like jewels. A young bartender in a black vest was mixing drinks, movements practiced and smooth. I squeezed between two men in suits, planted my hands on the marble counter.
"Excuse me." I pitched my voice higher. Sharper. The way Victoria always talked to service staff—like they existed solely for her convenience. "I'm looking for someone."
The bartender glanced up. Took in my face, my posture.
I lifted my chin. Channeled every ounce of Victoria's casual arrogance. "A girl with purple hair. Where did she go?"
"Purple hair?" He set down the cocktail shaker. His eyes narrowed slightly, assessing. "You mean Blake? She's upstairs. VIP-7."
The reverence in his voice when he said "VIP" made my stomach clench. But I kept my expression bored. Entitled.
"Third floor?"
"Yes, miss." He hesitated, then added quickly, "Can I get you anything while you—"
I was already walking away.
The VIP area occupied the entire third floor. The stairs opened onto a hallway carpeted in deep burgundy, walls hung with abstract art that probably cost more than my year's tuition. Recessed lighting cast everything in amber shadows.
At the end of the corridor, a door marked with a small brass "7" stood closed. A man built like a linebacker blocked the entrance, arms crossed over his chest.
I didn't slow down. Strode right up to him like I owned the place.
He held up one meaty hand. "Private room, miss."
"I know." I met his eyes. Let ice creep into my voice. "I'm Victoria Vane. I need to see whoever's inside."
Recognition flickered across his face. But instead of stepping aside, he straightened. "I'll need to check with my boss first."
My pulse spiked. But I kept my expression haughty. Bored. "Fine. Tell him Victoria Vane is here."
The bouncer pulled out a phone. Turned slightly away, murmured something I couldn't quite hear. A pause. Then he nodded, pocketed the phone.
"He says you can go in."
He opened the door.
Smoke hung thick in the air inside. Grey leather couches formed a U-shape around a glass coffee table littered with empty bottles and crystal tumblers. Track lighting above cast harsh shadows.
And there, curled into the corner of the far sofa—
Raven.
Her purple hair fell across her face in tangled strands. Eyes unfocused, glazed. A purple silk dress I'd never seen her wear hung loose on her shoulders. She was mumbling something I couldn't make out, fingers plucking weakly at the leather cushion.
The man beside her stood as I entered. Thirties. Greying at the temples. Grey Armani suit that probably cost five figures. He set down a phone—Raven's phone, I realized with a jolt—and turned to face me fully.
Dark eyes swept over me. Head to toe.
"Victoria Vane." His voice was smooth. Amused. "Interesting."
He took a step closer. Then another. His gaze sharp, assessing.
"Except you're not Victoria at all, are you?"
My blood turned to ice.
"You're—" His eyes narrowed. "—the little charity case. The one living with the Vanes." A cold smile spread across his face. "Elara, isn't it?"
Panic clawed up my throat. But I forced it down. Forced my brain to work.
"I—" My voice came out too high. I cleared my throat. Started again. "I only said that because the bouncer wouldn't let me in otherwise."
"Is that so?" He tilted his head. "And why exactly did you need to get in here so badly?"
I glanced at Raven. At her unfocused eyes, her slack posture. The white residue at the bottom of one of the glasses on the table.
Think. Think.
"Because—" I lifted my chin. Met his eyes. "Because I wanted to meet you."
His eyebrows rose. "Meet me."
"Yes." I took a breath. Forced steadiness into my voice. "I've... I've seen you. At Blackwood. At family dinners." The lies flowed easier now. Desperate lies. "I wanted to talk to you. But I didn't know how. When I heard you were here tonight—"
"You pretended to be Victoria Vane to get past my security." His tone was skeptical. But there was interest there too. Curiosity.
"I didn't think you'd agree to see me otherwise." I clasped my hands together. Let them shake slightly—not hard to fake, given how terrified I was. "I'm nobody. Just the girl they took in out of pity. But you—"
"What about me?"
"You're—" I searched for words that would flatter his ego. "You're not like them. The Vanes. You're... real. Powerful in your own right. Not just because of your name."
He studied me for a long moment. I could see him weighing my words. Deciding whether to believe me.
Finally, he laughed. Low and dangerous. "You're either very brave or very stupid, little girl."
"Maybe both." I forced a small smile. "I just wanted to meet you. To talk to you."
His gaze slid to Raven. Back to me. "And what about her?"
"That girl?" I made my voice dismissive. Cold. Like Victoria talking about someone beneath her. "Her service tonight is clearly... inadequate." I gestured at Raven's drugged state. "I thought—I hoped—maybe I could take her place. Spend the evening with you instead."
Silence stretched between us. My heart hammered so hard I thought he'd hear it.
Then Damien Kennedy smiled. Slow and sharp as a knife.
"Is that so?"
He moved closer. I forced myself not to step back. Not to run.
"You want to replace her?" His voice dropped lower. "Entertain me for the evening?"
"Yes." The word barely made it past my lips.
"Interesting." He reached out. Caught my chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting my face up to the light. "Very interesting."
My skin crawled where he touched me. But I didn't pull away. Didn't flinch.
Behind him, Raven made a small sound. A whimper.
Damien's grip tightened on my jaw. "You know what? I think I'll take you up on that offer." He released me. Moved to the bar cart in the corner. "But first, let's have a drink. To celebrate this... unexpected visit."
He poured amber liquid into two tumblers. Brought one to me.
"To new acquaintances."
I took the glass. The crystal was cold and heavy in my hand.
If I could get him drunk—drunk enough to pass out—maybe I could get Raven out of here. Get us both out.
It was a terrible plan. But it was all I had.
I raised the glass. "To new acquaintances."
We both drank.
The whiskey burned down my throat like liquid fire. I forced myself not to cough, not to show weakness. Just lifted my chin and met his eyes.
"Another?" I tried to sound eager. Reckless.
"Why not." He refilled both glasses. "Unless you can't keep up."
"I can keep up." I drank again. Too fast. The room tilted slightly at the edges.
We went through three more rounds. By the fourth glass, heat crawled up my neck. Made my skin too tight. The edges of my vision blurred.
Just the alcohol, I told myself. Just whiskey on an empty stomach.
But somewhere in the back of my mind, a small voice whispered: "What if it's not?"
When I reached for the fifth glass, Damien caught my wrist. Hard enough to hurt.
"You know what?" His smile had changed. Sharper now. Crueler. "I don't think you came here to meet me at all."