The ballroom was a sea of glittering gowns and tailored suits, a perfect backdrop for the unspoken games of power and influence that thrived at such events. Malia sipped her champagne, her composure unshaken despite the palpable tension in the air. She was accustomed to navigating spaces like this, where words cut deeper than daggers and smiles often hid veiled threats.
But even her calm demeanor faltered when she caught sight of Selene weaving through the crowd, her crimson dress clinging to her like a second skin. Malia knew that look—the smug tilt of her head, the predatory gleam in her eyes. Selene was hunting, and Malia was the prey.
"Enjoying the party?" Selene purred, sidling up to her.
Malia didn't flinch. She turned to face her with a polite smile that didn't reach her eyes. "I was, until now."
