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EVERY PARTY HIDES A PRICE.

Sneaking out of the school was surprisingly easy. Lea had already texted me: a ride would be waiting near the gate.

It didn’t come through the front.

The car appeared like a phantom, headlights slicing through the trees behind Dorm D. No license plate. No words. Just a silent driver in black, staring straight ahead when I opened the door.

Penelope looked at me like she wasn’t sure if this was thrilling or the start of a horror movie. I grabbed her hand and climbed in.

The seats were leather. Cold. Too clean. As the car pulled away, Avard faded in the rear window like a ghost town—quiet, watching, but not stopping us.

“You think Chase will be there?” Penelope whispered.

“I think Chase already regrets letting me in on this,” I muttered.

The drive twisted endlessly. Forest, then city. Then darker woods.

Then—

Music.

Bass first. Distant, thudding. Like a heartbeat buried underground.

We stopped outside an abandoned warehouse—graffiti-slashed metal doors, shattered windows covered with black mesh. Two men in suits stood at the side entrance, silver chains glinting under the moonlight.

Top 20.

One glance at our chains, and the door opened.

And hell opened with it.

---

Inside, everything was wrong in the most perfect way.

Smoke curled through violet spotlights. The music wasn’t music—it was sound, raw and thunderous. The bass lived beneath my skin. A DJ spun on a platform above a twisted sculpture of chain links and glowing wire.

The whole space was jagged—steel, mirrors, teeth. Students I’d only heard about in whispers moved like predators. Everyone looked older, colder. Dressed in rebellion.

And they noticed us.

Or maybe just me.

Heads turned. Eyes lingered. Whispers crawled across the crowd like static.

Some wore masks. Others shimmered with UV body paint in blue, gold, and venom green. Penelope nudged me and pointed—

To a couple walking by, completely naked except for heels and glitter.

Penelope blinked. “I didn’t know this was that kind of party.”

“It’s the Top 20,” I said quietly. “There are no rules.”

A girl with silver lipstick strolled past, leading a boy on a leash. He didn’t seem mad about it. Another wandered by with a tray of glowing drinks and lollipops.

Whispers and laughter, everywhere—but none of it felt friendly.

Penelope leaned in. “Camille... is that Jax?”

Yeah. Jax Mendez—Number 4—leaned against a wall in a black velvet blazer, cigarette burning between his fingers like a slow fuse. He raised his glass when our eyes met.

I looked away. Penelope didn’t. She smirked. He winked back.

“Everyone here is wild. Lea said it was just a fun party,” I muttered. “What she meant was: we’re entertainment.”

Penelope’s hand found mine. “Too late to back out?”

“I think we’re already the show.”

A girl in a sheer silver catsuit, wearing no chain, offered us glowing drinks from a tray shaped like a pill. I took one. Penelope didn’t.

“Why are you both standing like you’re lost?” came a voice from behind.

Lea.

Her dress was gold. Backless. Covered in crystals that caught the light and threw it back like she was made of danger and privilege.

She smiled at me.

Not friendly. Not cruel. Just calculating.

“Camille,” she said, descending the steps like a threat with perfect posture. “You made it.”

Penelope stiffened beside me.

“I said I would,” I replied evenly.

Lea’s eyes flicked to Penelope. “And you brought a plus one. Bold.”

“Number 20,” Penelope said, lifting her chin. “If that still counts.”

Lea’s smile didn’t falter. “For tonight, we’re all equals.” Her gaze returned to me. “More or less.”

She stepped in close. “Be careful who you talk to. Some of the numbers don’t like... new math. Now come. Let’s have fun.”

And by “fun,” she meant: dance until you forget your name.

"Camille… I’ll catch you later. I want to talk to someone," Penelope said, tugging my arm.

“To who?” I asked, suspicious.

She just winked. “Someone. Have fun.” But the look in her eyes said don’t follow.

She vanished into the crowd.

“Looks like your friend has a hot date,” Lea whispered, giggling.

“Date?” I raised a brow." I invited her. How would she already find a date?"

But Lea just drifted off too, leaving me alone.

People pressed in—offering drinks, compliments, questions I couldn’t hear over the music. I ducked into a quieter corner near the stairwell, trying to breathe. Trying to find him.

And then—there he was.

Chase.

Leaning against the stair rail, hair slicked back, black shirt unbuttoned just enough to be illegal in three states. Shadows clung to him like he belonged to them. A drink in one hand. Expression unreadable.

And beside him—Levi. White shirt sleeves rolled up, sipping whiskey, completely unaware of me.

I downed the glowing drink in my hand and looked away.

That’s when it happened.

“WE GOT A LOW RANK IN THE HOUSE!”

The shout cut through everything.

Heads turned. Eyes locked on me.

A boy with platinum blond hair and a smug Number 6 chain swaggered forward.

“What are you wearing, sweetheart? That a Fifteen?” He sneered like it physically hurt him. “Bold choice. Must’ve found that in the lost-and-pathetic pile.”

I knew him—Reed. One of Spencer’s cronies. And yep, there was Spencer now, watching, smirking.

Laughter. Cruel and sharp.

Penelope appeared like a lifeline. “Back off, Reed.”

He ignored her. “This party’s for single digits. Or did your babysitter forget the rules?”

I folded my arms. “Guess I missed the fine print about insecure boys throwing tantrums over numbers.”

That got a few gasps. Reed’s smile dropped.

“We’ve got a mouth on her,” he said. “Wanna see if it can handle a real challenge?”

A cheer from the crowd.

A girl shouted, “SPINE TABLE!”

The crowd parted. In the center of the warehouse stood a crude platform—stacked gym mats lit by glowsticks. SPINE TABLE sprayed across the side in blood-red paint.

I turned to Penelope. “What the hell is a Spine Table?”

“A dare platform,” she whispered. “One-on-one, in front of the crowd. Fight, confess, or humiliate yourself. Refuse? They rip your chain. Publicly.”

“What does that mean?”

Her eyes dropped to my neck. “You lose your rank. Anyone can take your chain. It’s brutal.”

My chain. After everything I did to get it?

Suddenly—Chase.

I didn’t see him move, but he was there. At the back. Arms crossed. Watching.

Everyone noticed. No one said a word.

My blood pounded. I could back down.

Or I could make them regret underestimating me.

I stepped forward. But as I looked around, I noticed the dangerous amusement in everyone eyes. Was this what Cirrus did to feel among?

What if Cirrus also fought like this to get the number 5 chain? The same way am also fighting to get a 6?

The only reason I was playing, was to win- For Cirrus.

“Fine,” I said. “I’ll play.”

Penelope's eyes widened,"Camille, no!"she said under her breath, her voice wide with panic. "You don't have to prove anything to this psychos. What if you lose?"

I looked her in the eye, seeing the concern in her eyes, “What if I don’t?”

Penn stared at me, torn between awe and fear. Then she stepped back, jaw clenched,like she knew she couldn't stop me - even if she wanted to.

The crowd erupted.

They shoved Reed and me onto the platform. Jax grinned as he spun a crooked wheel scrawled with challenges:

TRUTH OR STRIP

ONE-PUNCH FACE-OFF

CHAIN WAGER

SPILL OR BLEED

KISS OR SLAP

DRINK ‘TIL YOU DROP

The wheel stopped: CHAIN WAGER.

"Ohhh,” Jax drawled. “Winner walks away with both chains. Hope y’all are ready.”

Reed grinned. “You sure about this, baby girl?”

I unhooked my chain and held it up. “You need it more than I do.”

Cheers. Screams.

Someone tossed me black leather gloves.

No rules. First one off the platform loses.

Reed lunged first.

Fast. Arrogant. Sloppy.

I dodged, barely missing his elbow. He was strong—his feet slammed the mat loud and stupid.

I crouched low.

He turned, sneering. “Aww, the little rabbit runs.”

“Only so I can trap you.”

I surged forward. Slammed into his ribs. We staggered back, close to the edge.

Reed grabbed a fistful of my hair. Dirty.

I snarled, twisted, and kneed him in the thigh. Close enough to drop him. His grip loosened.

The crowd roared: “FIF-TEEN! FIF-TEEN!”

He wiped blood from his lip. “Lucky shot.”

“You should’ve stayed on the porch, rich boy.”

He rushed again—lower, smarter.

This time, I let him.

I caught him in a clinch, arm hooked around his neck.

He elbowed me hard. Pain flared. I held on as the sharp pain rang through my body.

I wasn’t stronger. But I was meaner. And I didn’t come from comfort.

I came from grief.

I twisted, used his momentum—slammed my hip into him. He teetered.

I shoved. He didn’t fall.

He spun, wild-eyed, and socked me hard in the face.

Stars. Blood. Tilting world.

“She’s down!” someone screamed.

No. Not yet.

I dropped to one knee. Spit blood.

Then rose.

Reed smirked.

So I hit him. In the throat.

He choked. Stumbled.

I lunged. Shoulder into his gut. We crashed, tangled and violent, rolling toward the edge.

He reached for my hair—I caught his wrist.

And bit him.

“FUCK—!” he screamed.

I shoved him off. Kicked him square in the chest.

He flew.

Off the platform.

Silence.

Then—chaos.

Cheers. Screams. Applause.

“SIX IS DOWN! SIX IS DOWN!”

I stood, blood on my lip, sweat on my back, victorious.

Reed groaned on the floor, clutching his stomach.

I held his chain up for everyone to see.

Victory.

Even Jax looked stunned. “Daaaamn,” he whistled. “Fifteen just became something else tonight.”

I saw Spencer. Lea. Levi—clapping, smiling faintly.

Penelope ran up, breathless. “Camille, what the hell?! Are you okay?” she reached for my arm, eyes scanning my bloody lip and cheek, her face paled,"You are bleeding- Jesus..."

I looked at her with a slight smirk despite the pain,"But I won. Didn't I?"

She looked at me, a slow smirk rising on her lips. "You are crazy..."

But then my eyes turned to him.

Because Chase was still watching.

Expression unreadable.

Until the corner of his mouth curled.

Just a little.

Enough.

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