KAYLEE

Away from prying eyes, my phone buzzed and I opened my clutch and took it out. Three missed calls from Bryson, and a text message announcing his late arrival.

There was also a text from Emery asking how tonight was going. And a notification from an encrypted messaging app—one I'd downloaded after Viola insisted we all needed it for "privacy." 

The latest Underground Pulse podcast had dropped. 

I shouldn't listen to it. 

Not here. 

Not at the Ulfric estate with supernatural elites mingling just beyond the glass doors. But my fingers grabbed my bluetooth earpiece in my clutch, and placed it in my ear. I tapped the notification before I could stop myself and the familiar diamond-patterned mask filled my screen—geometric facets reflecting studio lights, obscuring any hint of the speaker's identity. 

The voice, artificially lowered and modulated, filled my earbuds. "The supernatural elite gather tonight as they have for centuries," the voice began, sending an uncomfortable chill down my spine. 

How did they know about tonight's dinner? 

"They drink from crystal, they make their deals, they arrange their convenient matches—all while wearing the comfortable chains they've been conditioned to love." 

I glanced over my shoulder, suddenly paranoid someone might see what I was watching and listening to. But the balcony remained empty. 

"Look around you," the masked figure continued, "at how we've allowed ourselves to be domesticated. Supernatural beings with the power to shatter mountains, reduced to attending galas and worrying about social standing. Lycans who once ran wild now wear designer suits. Vampyrs who ruled from shadows now petition for permits and licenses."

My stomach tightened. There was something magnetic about the way he spoke—dangerous yet compelling. "They've made us complacent. Comfortable with scraps of power while the real control rests elsewhere but evolution doesn't accept complacency. It demands adaptation or extinction." 

The masked figure leaned closer to the camera. "Ask yourself: Are you evolving? Or are you just another well-trained pet playing at power games while wearing a collar you've been taught to call a necklace?" 

I closed the app quickly, a flush of guilt washing over me. It was the kind of radical content that would horrify my mother—that should horrify me. Yet something in those words resonated uncomfortably with how I felt tonight, being paraded around like Russell's future possession.

The words echoed in my mind: "Are you evolving? Or are you just another well-trained pet wearing a collar you've been taught to call a necklace?"

Was I? My entire life. From my biological parents, to every time Russell selected my clothes, decided where we ate, or dictated how I should style my hair—was I just accepting the collar? 

Seven dates in, and already I could feel the chain shortening. His expectations becoming demands. Something inside me solidified, hardened into resolve.

"Not enjoying yourself?" I nearly dropped my phone as I turned to find Richard standing beside me, and he held out a small dessert plate with a single tart.

Shoving both my phone and bluetooth into my clutch, I took the plate from his grasp. “Thank you,” and then I took a bite of the tart before answering. “Oh, I’m having the time of my life,” I deadpanned.

He huffed a quiet laugh and then crossed his arms, while watching me with knowing eyes. “You don’t have to do this, you know.”

I glanced at him, my brow arching. “My mother would have an aneurysm.”

Richard watched me carefully, a quiet weight in his gaze and my stomach dropped. “Probably. You could do worse than Russell.” 

Russell was a calculated choice. A good match. Someone who fit the image my mother wanted to maintain. A warlock and this match wasn’t for love. Just a convenient arrangement.

I swallowed hard, my heart hammering against my ribs as I stared beyond the balcony. The night stretched before me—vast, dark, and unknowable—and something in me ached to vanish into that velvet darkness, to be swallowed by its endless silence.

Richard furthered. “But take it from me, you don’t want to be in an unhappy relationship. You may think you can deal with it, but eventually it will eat you alive.”

My focus now snapped up to him, and my brows furrowed. “I dislike him.”

“Then break up. Your mother will behead me for saying that but I support whatever path you choose.”

I sighed, and before I could respond, a familiar voice cut through our conversation. "Richard Connor. Still dispensing fatherly wisdom, I see."

I turned to find Colin Tellar approaching with that casual grace that had always made him stand out in these gatherings. The son of Richard's oldest business partner, Colin had been a fixture in our lives since she remarried Richard. 

Collin’s suit was impeccably tailored, as always, dark eyes gleaming with that particular intensity that reminded everyone he was a vampyr without him having to show fangs.

Richard's expression warmed genuinely. "Colin! Didn't think you'd tear yourself away from your empire long enough to grace us with your presence."

"For Helga's first dinner in years?" Colin replied with an easy smile, clasping Richard's shoulder with familiar affection. "I rearranged my entire week. Though the rare blood vintages she promised might have sweetened the deal."

His gaze shifted to me, and his smile softened into something almost fond. "There's my favorite pastry witch."

I couldn't help returning the smile. Colin had always been different from the others in Richard's circle—he'd never treated me like an accessory or a child. "I would have brought you something if I'd known you'd be here. I perfected that cardamom-infused blood truffle you liked."

"You're spoiling me," he said, eyes crinkling at the corners. "I still have dreams about that batch you sent over after my Tokyo acquisition." He lowered his voice conspiratorially. "My assistant caught me licking the box."

Richard chuckled, shaking his head. "Kaylee's the only one who remembers that vampyrs have taste buds beyond just blood types."

"A rare gift," Colin agreed, his eyes lingering on mine with appreciation that felt genuine, not calculated like Russell's assessing glances. "The Winter Solstice eclairs were exceptional. I had to physically restrain a good friend of mine from hunting you down for the recipe."

I felt heat rise in my cheeks—not from embarrassment, but from the simple pleasure of having my work recognized. "Just a hobby. Something to keep my hands busy," I told him.

"A crime against culinary art to call it just a hobby," Colin replied, then glanced at Richard with mock severity. "You need to stop letting Kiku push her into the family business. The world has enough event planners and too few pastry witches who understand the subtle complexities of blood infusion."

Richard raised his hands in surrender. "I've tried telling both of them. That’s a niche that no one has really picked up on. Kaylee knows I'll support whatever path she chooses."

"Including the Saldana gala?" Colin asked, turning back to me, eyes sparkling with interest. "That's quite the high-profile client for your debut as lead coordinator."

I blinked, surprised he'd know about that. "News travels fast."

"I make it a point to keep track of promising talent," he replied, voice carrying a hint of something I couldn't quite place. "Though I've always believed your gifts would be better served creating rather than coordinating."

Before I could reply, Russell's voice cut in. "There you are. I've been looking for you."

The warmth in Colin's expression cooled instantly. He straightened, his posture shifting as he acknowledged Russell with a polite nod that didn't reach his eyes.

"Russell," Colin said, his tone perfectly pleasant yet somehow hollow. "Impeccable timing as always."

Richard cleared his throat slightly, giving Russell a measured nod before placing a hand on Colin's shoulder. "We should catch up on that other matter," he said, the casual words belied by the sudden tension in his jaw.

Colin's gaze lingered on me for a moment—something like concern flickering across his face before it smoothed into his usual composed mask. "Don't forget about those truffles," he said lightly, then turned to follow Richard. 

"Three more embedded this quarter. The Vancouver territory should be accessible within months..." Colin told Richard and their heads were bent in conversation. "...though I may need to rotate the Montréal asset. She's getting too attached..."

They were gone and I turned to face my date, forcing a smile even as my stomach tightened. The masked figure's words echoed in my head: "They've made us complacent." 

The thought of continuing this charade—of accepting Russell's control, of being another well-trained pet—suddenly felt claustrophobic, like walls closing in from all sides.

"Russell," I said, my voice steadier than I expected, though I could feel emotion straining beneath it like a current. "Can we go somewhere quiet and talk?"

He studied me with that curious expression he wore when he couldn't quite read me—a look that might have once made me nervous but now just solidified my resolve.

"Of course," he said, all gallant concern now.

I already knew where we'd go. 

Somewhere private enough for honesty but public enough for safety. The library—because if this turned ugly, which part of me almost hoped it would, my stepfather wasn't far.

As for my mother and her delicate social aspirations? I'd weather that storm later. 

Right now, I needed to reclaim whatever power I had left. Evolution, as the masked figure had said, demanded adaptation or extinction. 

And I refused to become extinct under Russell's thumb.

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This is an early draft, so if you spot anything or feel something, I’d love to hear it. Doesn't have to be long, a few words. Your comments and feedback help shape the final version.

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