Chapter 4 The Party
CHLOE'S POV:
The sharp smack of heavy fabric colliding with my bare thigh made me yelp, the sound muffled entirely by the thick duvet beneath my face.
“Are you even listening to me, Chloe?” Aria sighed loudly, tossing a hanger onto the small pile of clothes growing on my mattress.
I groaned into the sheets, refusing to move. I was sprawled on my stomach, my limbs heavy and lifeless. Aria had somehow managed to drag me back to the warehouse after classes, determined to turn my bedroom into a makeshift styling boutique. But my brain was operating on a completely separate frequency.
Every time the room fell quiet, my heart seemed to beat in reverse, the chilling echo of a metal shovel striking dirt vibrating through my skull. My skin still felt raw from the icy night air.
Slowly, I rolled over onto my back, blindly reaching for my phone on the nightstand to check the time.
5:00 PM.
The party started at seven. A heavy weight settled deep in my chest. “I really don't feel like doing anything right now, Ari,” I muttered, staring blankly at the ceiling.
My mind was a chaotic loop of survival calculations. If I didn't come back to the warehouse tonight, would that psychopath consider it a breach of our "deal"? Would he come tracking me down?
Part of me desperately considered finding some random guy at the party, getting completely drunk, and staying at a hotel—literally doing anything to avoid sleeping in this slaughterhouse again.
Snap. Snap.
Aria’s manicured fingers flashed in front of my eyes, breaking my trance. She was leaning over the bed, her eyebrows pulled together in genuine concern.
“Okay, what is actually going on with you?” Ari asked softly, setting a silk slip dress aside.
“You’ve been completely lost in your own head the entire day. You didn't even hear the anatomy professor call your name earlier. Are you okay?”
I let out a long, exhausted sigh, letting my head sink deeper into the pillow. I stared at my best friend, a sudden wave of protective dread washing over me. As much as the thought of facing the afterlife alone terrified me, I wasn't selfish enough to drag Aria into my mess. She didn't deserve to get caught in the crosshairs of whatever twisted game that serial killer was playing. If she found out the truth, she’d be an accomplice—and that monster had made his threat very clear.
So, I opted for a half-truth.
“I’m just... really missing home, Ari,” I lied smoothly, forcing my voice to stay level. “I want to go back to my dad. It’s a lot harder being out here completely alone than I thought it would be. And on top of that, Grey blocked my number this morning. I don't even know if that’s his childish way of breaking up with me, or if he’s just throwing a phase.”
Aria’s face instantly softened. She sat on the edge of the mattress, kicking my leg gently. “Oh, honey. Screw Grey. Seriously. He’s a fragile little boy who couldn't handle you putting your family first. And you are not alone—you have me.
Which is exactly why we are going to this party. You need to get dressed, get hot, and make him regret ever walking out that door.”
Before I could protest, she dragged me out of bed and into the bathroom.
Two hours later, I didn't even recognize the girl in the mirror. Aria had painted my face with heavy, flawless makeup—smoky eyes and a sharp wing that made me look dangerous. She had stuffed me into a scandalous, skin-tight mini dress that hugged every single curve, paired with an incredulous pair of black Christian Louboutin heels that added a lethal amount of height.
But as we pulled up to the grand, wrought-iron gates of the King’s House mansion, the reality of where we were slammed into me.
The security at the gate was suffocating. Large, broad-shouldered guards flanked the entrance. When we stepped up, one of them extended a gloved hand, holding an empty velvet-lined box.
“Phones and digital watches inside the box, ladies,” his voice was a flat, gravelly command.
“No recording devices of any kind are permitted past this point.”
I unclasped my watch and dropped my phone into the tray, my stomach twisting. Of course, I thought bitterly. They don't want the regular students taking videos of whatever illegal, elitist shit goes on behind closed doors.
Stepping through the massive double doors of the mansion, the sensory overload hit instantly. The bass from the speakers pulsed through the floorboards, and the air smelled of expensive cologne, champagne, and sweat. The venue was already packed.
Immediately, I noticed something strange. A few men in the crowd, including the security guards patrolling the perimeter, wore sleek, ornate masks that obscured their faces, while the rest of the guests were dressed in standard, ridiculously expensive tuxedos.
Ari bumped her shoulder against mine, leaning in to whisper over the music. “Do you think the ones in the expensive tuxes and masks are the Elites?”
I looked around nervously, my hand instinctively coming up to rub my fingers against my palm—a subconscious habit I could never shake whenever my anxiety spiked.
“I don't know,” I murmured, trying to keep a polite, unbothered smile plastered on my face.
There were a lot of Elites at Halden University. They owned about eight massive mansions scattered around the campus perimeter, and the inner circle—The Kings—consisted of roughly twenty to thirty legacy students. Neither Ari nor I knew all of their faces; we only knew the select few who never bothered to hide their identities in public.
The entire atmosphere made my skin crawl. I felt like a lamb walking willingly into a den of wolves.
“Chloe, look,” Ari whispered suddenly, her fingers digging into my forearm. She subtly nodded her head toward the far side of the grand room, near the VIP lounge area.
“What is up with that guy? He has been staring at you for since the moment we walked here”
I followed her gaze, my eyes scanning past the moving bodies in the crowd until my eyes landed on a figure leaning casually against a marble pillar.
My eyes widened and I felt my knees go weak.
“Oh no…”
