The Delta Phi mansion was all noise and neon heat—high walls, velvet drapes, perfume and whiskey floating in the air like ghosts. Emory Vale stepped past the threshold with a cold stare and a colder dress. Black silk, tight at the waist. Her heels didn't click, they carved.
The crowd swallowed her and her girls instantly. Jessie looked ready to fight someone. Mariah looked ready to flirt with someone. Emory looked like she was ready to set someone on fire.
"You're already being watched," Jessie whispered.
"I hope so," Emory said.
Mariah smirked. "Is it revenge time?"
"Not yet."
"Because Skye is across the room. And he's looking like he walked out of a villain casting call."
Emory didn't have to look. She could feel him. That magnetic presence like static and storm cloud. She could feel it in her ribs. Her skin. Her breath.
But someone else reached her first.
"Selene," said a voice behind her—cool, slow, almost amused.
She turned.
Finn Donovan.
Black button-down. Sleeves rolled. Silver ring on his middle finger and mischief in his eyes. He wasn't Skye's muscle. He was Skye's memory. The one who watched but never forgot.
"You never call me that," Emory said carefully.
Finn gave a small grin. "Doesn't mean I haven't always known."
Jessie raised a brow. "You?"
"Relax," Finn said. "I only borrow trouble, I don't start it."
He turned to Emory again. "Come with me. Just a moment."
"Why?"
"Because I don't like being the only one here who knows the truth."
That stopped her.
She followed him up a side staircase, out onto the stone balcony where cold air bit her arms and the music thudded like a muffled scream below.
He leaned against the railing and looked out at the night.
"You're not the only one being hunted," he said softly.
Emory tensed. "Hunted by who?"
He lit a cigarette but didn't smoke it. "You think Skye's your biggest problem. But he's just one storm."
"Then what's the hurricane?"
Finn looked at her, calm and cruel. "Rowe."
Her breath caught.
"I saw him at the masquerade. I've seen him since. He's watching you. Watching him."
"Why are you telling me this?"
"Because I'm tired of pretending loyalty means blindness."
She stepped back. "You're not loyal to Skye?"
"I'm loyal to truth," he said. "Even when it cuts."
"What truth?"
Finn's voice dropped. "That there's a reason Rowe knows everything. Because someone told him. Someone from inside."
She stared. "You think it's Nick?"
"I think Nick's too angry to hide something this long. I think someone else is feeding this fire. And I think you're going to be the one burned first."
Her lips parted.
He reached into his coat and pulled out a small envelope. Slipped it into her hand.
"I found it under my door this morning," he said. "No name. No print. Just this."
She opened it slowly.
Inside was another photo.
The chapel.
The kiss.
But this time, Emory's face was scratched out in black ink.
Only Skye remained.
And across the bottom, someone had written:
> "She will ruin you."
Emory gripped the paper.
Finn turned away. "Come back down when you're ready to start telling the truth."
---
She didn't even notice the air had gone colder until she descended the stairs.
The party felt louder. Angrier. Wound tight.
And in the center of the room—
Skye Thorne.
And Nick Blackwell.
Facing off.
It hadn't escalated yet, but it would. You could smell it. Hear it in the sudden drop of chatter. See it in the clenched jawlines and tightened fists around glass cups.
Nick's voice came first. Loud. Too loud. "Don't act like you've won."
"I don't need to win," Skye said. "She already chose."
"Is that what you think?" Nick laughed. "That this is a game? That she's your prize?"
Skye just tilted his head, smile sharp. "You really think you're the knight in this story?"
"Better than being the monster."
"Don't flatter yourself, Blackwell," Skye replied coldly. "You're not the hero. You're the background noise."
Nick shoved him.
The room gasped.
Skye didn't move. Didn't hit back. Just stepped forward until they were nose to nose.
Emory pushed through the crowd.
"Enough," she said, breathless.
Both men looked at her.
She didn't flinch.
"You want to know who I chose?" she said softly. "Neither of you. Not right now."
Nick stepped back like she'd slapped him.
Skye just stared.
Then a girl screamed.
---
The scream came from upstairs.
High. Terrified.
Then another shout. Someone yelling about blood. About a room. About "6C."
Emory ran before anyone could stop her.
Skye followed.
So did Finn.
They stormed up the stairs. The hallway was dark and cold. Doors left open. Music echoing like it didn't belong.
Room 6C had been torn apart.
Furniture smashed. Curtains ripped. Candles extinguished.
And on the mirror, scrawled in red:
> "Confess or I'll take everything."
Emory stepped inside slowly, heart hammering.
A photo sat on the bed.
Her and Skye.
The chapel.
But this time, there was a third shadow.
Circled.
Labeled:
> "The one who watched."
Finn froze behind her. "That's Rowe."
Emory's mouth went dry.
On the floor lay a ring.
Not hers. Not Skye's.
A legacy ring.
Braxton's symbol in gold and garnet.
And scratched on the inner band:
> "He never stopped watching.
🖤 End of Chapter Nine