VEIL OF DECEPTION

The moment the dance ended, Ethan felt the shift in the air. Seraphina DeLuca had marked him.

Not with a touch. Not with a word. But with her presence.

In a world where power was currency and names held weight, dancing with her was not just a statement—it was an invitation to war.

The crowd murmured. Some intrigued. Some enraged.

Across the ballroom, Lucien Vale smirked over the rim of his glass, while Donovan Pierce's fingers tightened on his silver cane. Astrid whispered something under her breath, but Ethan didn't need to hear it.

He already knew.

Tonight, he had made himself a target.

—

Ethan stepped outside, letting the cool night air wash over him. The skyline stretched endlessly, neon lights flickering like scattered stars.

Footsteps approached.

"You made quite the impression."

Ethan turned. Seraphina stood beside him, the wind tugging at her silk dress. Up close, she smelled of jasmine and danger.

"You planned that," he said, watching her.

She smiled, slow and knowing. "Did I?"

"You don't dance with nobodies."

Her gaze sharpened. "And yet, I danced with you."

Ethan chuckled. "So, what does that make me?"

"A question no one has answered yet." She stepped closer. "But tell me, Ethan Cross… do you really know what you're stepping into?"

He met her gaze without flinching. "I know enough."

She tilted her head. "Then let me make something clear. My father—"

"Isn't my concern," Ethan interrupted.

Silence.

Then, she laughed—a low, melodic sound that was both amused and impressed. "You're either reckless or suicidal."

Ethan smirked. "Maybe I'm both."

Her eyes darkened. "Then you might survive."

And with that, she turned and walked away, leaving behind a lingering scent of jasmine and the taste of something far more dangerous.

—

Ethan barely had time to process the conversation before another figure emerged from the shadows.

Dominic.

"Tell me you're not sleeping with the mafia princess," Dominic muttered, lighting a cigarette.

Ethan exhaled. "Not yet."

Dominic groaned. "Jesus, Ethan. You just put yourself on every hit list in this city."

Ethan took the cigarette from Dominic's fingers, taking a slow drag before tossing it over the edge. "Then I better make sure I can't be taken out."

Dominic sighed, rubbing his temple. "Pierce is already watching you. Lucien thinks you're a joke. And now, DeLuca?" He shook his head. "You're collecting enemies like they're limited edition."

Ethan smirked. "Better than being forgettable."

Dominic stared at him for a moment, then laughed. "You're insane."

Ethan turned back to the city. "Maybe. But when I win, they'll all remember my name."

—

The gala continued inside, but Ethan felt the shift.

Something was coming.

And then—

BANG!

Glass shattered. Screams erupted.

The first bullet barely missed him, embedding itself in the balcony railing.

Instinct took over. Ethan moved.

Dominic pulled his gun, eyes scanning the rooftops. "Sniper!"

Ethan dove behind a stone pillar as another shot rang out, shattering a marble statue nearby. Guests inside the ballroom panicked, rushing for the exits as security scrambled.

They wanted him dead. Tonight.

Ethan's mind raced.

Who sent them? Pierce? Lucien? Or was this a test from Seraphina's father?

It didn't matter.

Because tonight was only the beginning.

And Ethan Cross wasn't dying before he took everything.