The masquerade hall of the Crimson Coast glowed like a living illusion.
Obsidian mirrors lined the walls, reflecting chandeliers heavy with gold and firelight. Masks smiled where faces should have been-some elegant, some cruel, some hiding far more than skin. Music flowed through the hall, smooth and dangerous, wrapping every guest in silk and secrets.
This was not a party.This was a battlefield dressed as luxury.
Elaris stepped inside.
Midnight velvet hugged her form, soft but deceptive. The gown moved like water, hiding armor beneath its beauty. Her mask -black with feathered gold edges --covered half her face, but not her eyes. Those were sharp. Alert. Alive.
Too alive.
She hated how the music made her chest tighten. Hated how the lights made her feel exposed. Every step echoed like a countdown, every glance like a blade waiting to fall.
This place was built to tempt, to weaken, to test.
She moved forward anyway.
Around her, Crimson Coast elites danced and whispered. Syndicate heads. Tech barons. Mercenaries in silk gloves. Each smile carried a price. Each laugh hid a threat.
Elaris kept her breathing steady.
Find the informant, she reminded herself.Get the information. Leave alive.
Then she felt it.
That shift in the air.That sudden silence inside her chest.
She didn't need to turn.
Kael was there.
Mask of black glass. Sharp lines. Stillness that cut through noise like a blade. He leaned near the edge of the dance floor, posture relaxed, presence anything but. He didn't scan the room like the others. He didn't pretend.
His eyes found her.
For a single, dangerous second, the masquerade disappeared.
No syndicates.No war.No past.
Just recognition.
Not relief. Not safety.Recognition like two storms seeing each other across a broken sky.
Elaris forced herself to look away.
The music swelled.
The waltz began.
Partners moved into place, hands finding hands, lies finding lies. Elaris stayed still, calculating exits, counting shadows. She was about to turn when a gloved hand extended into her vision.
Steady. Certain. Unavoidable.
Kael.
She looked at his hand. Then up at him.
"You should be somewhere safer," she said quietly.
His lips curved beneath the mask. "So should you."
The music demanded a decision.
After a brief hesitation just long enough to hate herself -Elaris placed her hand in his.
The contact sent a spark straight through her spine.
They moved.
The dance was smooth, controlled. Every step precise. Their bodies knew the rhythm too well, like fighters circling before a strike. His hand rested at her back not possessive, not gentle. A warning. A promise.
"Still wearing armor under silk?" he murmured.
"Still pretending this is just a game?" she replied.
He spun her, pulling her back before distance could breathe. Her pulse betrayed her, hammering faster with every turn. She hated that part of herself the one that reacted before logic could interfere.
"You wear masks too well," she whispered near his shoulder.
"And yet," he replied, voice low, close to her ear, "you keep looking for the face underneath."
The words hit harder than any threat.
For a moment, the world narrowed to movement and breath. The chandeliers blurred. The crowd faded. There was only the heat between them dangerous, unwanted, undeniable.
Then the lights flickered.
Once.
Twice.
Red.
The music stuttered, notes dragging like a scream cut short. A hush fell over the ballroom, sharp and unnatural.
Elaris felt Kael's grip tighten not to control her.
To protect.
A figure appeared on the balcony above, cloaked in silver, mask reflecting firelight. The voice that followed was amplified, cold, amused.
"Ladies and gentlemen of the Crimson Coast," it boomed."Tonight, one of you will not leave alive."
Chaos exploded.
Guests screamed. Glass shattered. Blades slipped from sleeves. Guns appeared where champagne glasses had been. The masquerade cracked open, revealing teeth beneath the smiles.
Kael didn't hesitate.
He spun Elaris out of the first wave of movement, pulling her flush against him as a shot rang out nearby. Her mask cracked slightly at the edge, revealing one fierce eye.
For a heartbeat too long, he held her.
Not as an enemy.Not as an asset.
As something the world was trying and failing to break.
"You burn brighter," he said softly, almost to himself, "when the world tries to snuff you out."
Gunfire tore through the air.
The waltz was over.
And the Crimson Coast had awakened.