In a city of sheep ruled by wolves, she became the python that pulled them apart.
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Sage Black is a girl of little opportunities, forced to see the seamy side of life growing up in New York. Witnessing what lengths billionaires will go through t...
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"I'm going to get us drinks!" Zain pulls away my curled hair to raise her voice in my ear, making me flinch. I feign enthusiasm and nod, watching as her small figure strides away, pushing through the mass of bodies.
The house is colored in hues of hot pink and purple, the dim lighting making it hard to label faces to bodies. I can only see them dancing, thrumming with energy in clusters around the spacious house. Others are strewn on couches with alcohol in their hands, making out or playing drunken games. They remind me of the beer bottles next to my feet: empty and useless.
Except they're expensive beer bottles; the air holds the same wealthy atmosphere as the school. Everyone here is in designer, stylish even in their lowest, drunken-high-school-party state. And it's clear that this house is not made for the parties, each decoration perfectly picked out with marble floors, walls, and counters.
"Amazing right?" Her hot breath tickles my ears. I turn my head to find her four shot glasses balanced in her hands, cheeks flushed and eyes wide, and I don't doubt that she's already had a few shots on her way here. She shoves two in my direction. "Bottoms up!"
I eye the cups, contemplating my decision. Tonight demands a clear head and sharp senses if I intend to get my hands on something useful without getting caught. I can't afford to soften my senses and lose control.
But the loud thrumming of the music and sticky bodies everywhere makes me rethink my choice. One shot would help me ignore the chaos and relax the pounding in my head.
She whoops as I tilt back the glass, drowning drown the intoxicating. Before I can protest, her hands pull my forearm, leading me deeper through the crowd. I dodge a few elbows and groping hands until we thankfully make it out of the tight, suffocating mass. She continues to lead me down a hallway until we reach a balcony that overlooks over some greenery. This part of the house isn't as crowded, with more familiar faces that I recognize milling around the trailing. Tave is among them.
His face lights up with a grin when he catches sight of us, and he hookes an arm around each of our shoulders. He's wearing a fitting white shirt that glows against his dark skin in the dim lighting, and the silver chain that often peaked through his uniform is on full display, glinting and sparkling. Upon taking a closer look, I realize that his eyes are hazed and his breath smells like the lemony scent of vodka.
"My girls," he drawls, "I was going to start thinking you wouldn't show."
I let him lead us to the railing and take in the familiar faces around us. Yvonne sits on Atlas's lap in a gripping hot pink latex dress as he caresses her thigh. His grey eyes pierce mine, and his lips curve in a scowl. Yvonne follows his gaze to look at me, eyeing my outfit before turning his head to her with a hand. A diamond ring glints on her finger.
Behind them are a few other people that I recognize from my classes and the lunch table: Emory Lopez, Grove Sullivan, Zale Hunt, and Idris Laurent. They seem to always hang around Yvonne and Atlas, like little wolves following their alpha and beta wolf.
