“This party is sick!”
Someone screamed above the blaring bass, their voice slurring through a laugh. I looked around, but I couldn’t tell who said it. Everyone wore a mask, including me. That had been my way in—blend in, don’t stand out.
The room spun with flashing lights—blue, purple, red. Shadows moved everywhere. Bodies grinding against each other, drinks spilling, smoke floating near the ceiling. Someone was making out on the couch. Someone else was throwing up into a trash can. Typical.
But I wasn’t here for the party.
My fingers tightened around the drink in my hand. I hadn’t touched it. Just holding it made me blend in more. No one would question me, not with the mask on. I wore black from head to toe, just like everyone else. Just another rich brat partying the night away.
Onl
