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I look to the same spot, hoping to see the impossible.

Nothing stands there. Only the room with its dying light. Only my father unraveling into visions I can’t share.

But then a rush of cold sweeps in, sliding up my arms, raising every hair like a greeting.

I pull the blanket higher over his chest and tuck it beneath his shoulders.

“Get some sleep.”

Let go. Because I can’t.

CHAPTER 7

ZAIYA

The black dress Calista chose for me is too short, too tight, and cut so low my breasts threaten to spill free every time I breathe. She swears it’s perfect for the club, and that only worries me more.

I told her no when she first held it up. There were safer choices in her closet, dresses that covered enough skin to let me disappear inside them. But those were the ones Mother would have approved of. So I let Calista talk me into the black one. Maybe a small part of me likes how little it protects.

Calista drew on my eyeliner, sharpening me into someone bold. I’m disguised beneath it all, hidden inside a version of myself I don’t recognize. But I would rather look like this than resemble one of Mother’s porcelain dolls, delicate and untouched, waiting on the shelf to be handled.

I tug the hem down and clutch the tiny purse in my lap. The medallion rests against its satin lining. I take it out again and run my thumb over the snake coiled around the hourglass, forcing every detail into my mind.

Slither in shadow. Strike with venom.

I have to do what Asher asked. It’s the only straight line left in my head.

The Boltons are asleep by now. Guilt knots through my excitement like a rope. If they catch me sneaking out, I could lose the first safe place I’ve had in years.

But the Serpents are the only thread Asher gave me. I keep replaying his voice in my mind so I don’t forget it. I’m terrified time will smooth the edges of him until all I have left are pieces. Whatever awaits me tonight is worth the risk.

So I put the medallion back in my purse and stand in front of the mirror for one more check.

A faint shift outside the window makes my head jerk up.

I go still.

The yard rests in darkness, trees rustling, their branches swaying before settling again. The bluff looms like a heavy shoulder pressed against the house.

It’s so eerie, I’m certain hidden eyes are watching me.

A tap hits the screen.

My breath catches. I rush to the window and pull the curtains back wider.

Calista stands outside in the moonlight, sparkling silver from her dress to the dusting of shimmer on her chest. Her hair is pinned up, exposing her neck and shoulders. She stands there fearless. A girl who never apologizes for taking up space.

Without a word, she waves her hand, beckoning me to join her. I push the screen up and ease myself through, but the dress snags and I freeze, horrified at the thought of flashing my underwear. Calista’s expression hardens as she waits with her hands on her hips. She grabs my arm and yanks me the rest of the way out. I tumble forward, catching myself against her as the hem rides up over my backside.

Heat burns my face as I pull it down and scan the dark windows around us, waiting for one of them to light up with judgment.

Nothing happens.

It’s right after midnight, and the entire street is suspended in sleep.

Calista catches my wrist and leads me down the block through the grass so our footsteps stay quiet. Wayne waits in his car with the engine humming low. The moment Calista slips into the passenger seat, she’s kissing him like it’s been weeks instead of hours since she’s seen him.

I climb into the backseat. As the Bolton house recedes behind us, I almost expect to see a face at the window, a silhouette watching me leave. Proof that I’ve already ruined everything.