"Balance is fragile when the ground is crumbling"
.
.
The bass hit her before she even walked in.
Thumping. Alive. Hungry.
Karma blinked against the swirl of strobe lights and perfume-thick air, suddenly aware of how short the dress was—the one Gretchen insisted she wear. Metallic black. Skin-tight. Unapologetic. She tugged at the hem for the tenth time.
"You look like vengeance incarnate," Anastasia purred beside her, glossy-lipped and wild-eyed.
"She looks like someone who's about to make a mistake," Gretchen added smugly, sipping from a glass she definitely didn't get legally.
Karma didn't answer.
The club was a heatwave, a heartbeat. People moved like liquid shadows, laughter sharp and teeth sharper. She scanned the crowd, searching for something—no, someone—but she didn't even know who.
Her mystery.
Was he here?
Or anybody she could talk to. She was sure her friends would soon disappear and soon they did. As she stood at the bar, thinking her mind drifted to him.
Kristian.
Her fiancé.
Or ex.
Or something in between.
Whatever he was now.
She hadn't seen him since that morning. Not since he tried to wrap an arm around her like she was still his and she'd twisted it behind his back like they were sparring in a ring.
He'd looked stunned.
She'd whispered a threat through her teeth and stomped on his foot for good measure.
He hadn't spoken to her since.
Not a word. Not a text. Not a flinch when the adults asked about her. Just cold. Closed off.
She didn't care. But then the note came. Folded. Plain. In her locker:
"Meet me tonight. One of us needs to talk."
She had known it was from him She wasn't ready to talk to him. But she wished it was from another. The one who looked like a bad decision and a worse promise, but she kept daydreaming about him or more correctly he kept invading her mind with the damn eyes.
But now—
The lights flickered.
And for a split second, she saw him.
Tall. Familiar. Silver-eyed and storm-brewed.
Kristian.
Gone before she could blink.
She moved through the bodies, ignoring the hands, the smoke, the pull. Something electric crawled up her spine, whispering: Tonight changes everything.
Then—
A hand touched her elbow. Gentle. Firm.
She turned.l and shrugged her arm from his hold.
Kristian.
His shirt was wrinkled like he'd barely bothered. Hair tousled. But the look in his eyes… that hadn't changed.
Still sharp. Still unreadable.
"I followed you," he said, voice low, for her ears only.
Her breath caught. "What?"
"I couldn't just let you walk away."
His jaw clenched. "Not without knowing who you're running to."
She stared at him, pulse unsteady.
"Maybe I'm not running," she said. "Maybe I'm just... moving."
He scoffed, soft and bitter. "In a dress like that? To a club like this?"
His gaze dropped to her legs, then back up. Heated.
Angry.
Maybe jealous.
She folded her arms. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"You know what it means."
There it was. That tone. The one that made her feel like fire and fury and something no one could hold. A fire that urged her to smack him.
"You still mad I didn't let you grab me like I was yours?" she asked, voice sharp.
He flinched, almost too fast to catch. "That's not what—"
"You tried to claim me like property. In front of your little admirer."
"That's not what I—"
"I told you not to call me that. Your girl. I'm not a trophy, Kristian. And I'm definitely not your excuse to show off."
The memory flickered. Her hand twisting his wrist. His surprised breath. Her heel stomping on his foot before walking away.
"And whining to my parents about me like a sulking prince? Really classy."
Kristian exhaled through his nose, frustrated. "You don't understand."
"No, you don't."
They stood there, toe to toe, in the dark pulse of the club, the beat between them tense and ragged.
Around them, the crowd danced and drank and dissolved into the music. But they were still. Still locked in a standoff that had started long before the note in her locker.
And Karma couldn't help but wonder—
Was this why he asked her to meet him?
Or was it something else?
The song shifted. The lights dimmed.
And the air between them cracked just a little more.
Whatever this was—whatever came next—it wasn't going to be simple.
And that was exactly the problem.
Before she could demand answers, a familiar voice slurred her name.
Gretchen.
Karma turned to see her weaving through the crowd like a very glamorous wrecking ball, a cocktail glass sloshing precariously in one hand. Anastasia trailed behind, looking half-apologetic, half-amused.
"She wanted to be with you," Anastasia explained quickly, hands up, "and I tried to stop her, but…"
Her words cut off when a guy passed and slid an arm around Anastasia's waist. She flashed a grin, mouthed sorry to Karma, and disappeared with him into the mass of bodies.
"How many bottles have you had in these few minutes, you alcoholic horse" Karma said looking at Gretchen's face.
"Don't...don't rell me you ar...the MVP tonight. If you're I'll kick your balls" Gretchen said and Karma laughed.
"Girl that's my line and it isn't exactly something you can do in your condition you know" Karma said as her eyes drifted to Kristian."Are you going to stand there like a useless prop," she shot at him, "or help me get her somewhere she won't faceplant?"
Kristian's eyes narrowed, but he stepped forward anyway. Karma shoved Gretchen toward him, and he steadied her without protest.
They half-guided, half-dragged Gretchen toward the edge of the dance floor where it was quieter. Kristian leaned down so only Karma could hear. "I'm not leaving until we talk."
"Yeah, well, I'm busy," she said, easing Gretchen into a booth.
"Im so good at tolerating you though and it's only because oh this alliance or else..you wouldn't be here" she said."so start explaining.....since you said I didn't understand you"
Kristian's jaw flexed, but before he could reply, the air shifted.
Not the music—though the bass seemed to throb slower now. This was something else. A change in gravity.
Karma felt it before she saw him.
Tall. Lean. Dark hair falling just wrong enough to look intentional. Hands in pockets like he owned the air around him.
Luxury store guy.
Her breath caught—uninvited—and her heart thumped in a way the music couldn't explain.
He didn't hurry. Didn't need to. The crowd parted just enough for him to pass, and when his gaze found hers… it was deliberate.
Hot. Unhurried. Like he was undressing her in thought without touching a single thread.
Her grip on Gretchen's shoulder tightened, but she couldn't look away.
He reached their table, didn't break stride, didn't speak. Just let that look linger—long enough to say I see you—and kept walking. Past them. Past Kristian. Toward the back.
She tracked him until he disappeared behind the chrome doors of the elevator.
Only then did she hear the low exhale beside her.
Kristian.
His fists were folded tight at his sides, knuckles pale, jaw locked.
Karma didn't say a word. Neither did he. But between them, the silence wasn't empty.
It was loaded.
And something told her… the night had only just begun.