𝐆𝐀𝐁𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐀 𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐄 was
once the love of Edward Cullen's life.
The two were practically engaged to
be married but things changed the day
Isabella Swan entered their lives.
It was like he completely oblivious
about Gabriella because of B...
AS GABRIELLA and Tristan continued their dance, a sudden, wild howl reverberated through the grand ballroom, sending a ripple of unease through the gathered vampires. All eyes turned toward the entrance as Klaus strode in, his presence as commanding as it was chaotic. He was flanked by Lucien and a throng of women dressed in a wild array of Halloween costumes—a sultry nurse, a sleek black cat, and a macabre skeleton bride, among others. The group staggered in, laughing raucously, their mirth filling the once-elegant space with a rowdy, almost feral energy.
Klaus threw back his head and howled drunkenly, mimicking a wolf's cry, the sound unsettling in its intensity. Lucien and the women burst into fits of laughter, their carefree amusement clashing sharply with the rigid, controlled atmosphere of The Strix's gathering. Conversations faltered, dancers froze mid-step, and every vampire in the room turned to stare at the gate-crashers with a mixture of surprise, disdain, and curiosity.
"What a beloved occasion!" Klaus announced, his voice echoing dramatically through the silent room.
"My God, it's a room full of Elijahs," Lucien quipped, his eyes darting around at the gathered vampires, each one impeccably dressed and masked, their refined mannerisms a stark contrast to the raucous group that had just barged in.
Klaus cackled, his laughter unhinged and theatrical. "I had that exact same nightmare once!"
Their laughter erupted again, louder this time, drawing every gaze in the room to their display. Lucien turned to one of the women—a striking figure dressed in a fuchsia corset and a matching bobbed wig, her face obscured by an ornate black mask.
"Go and grab us a drink, love," Lucien said, his tone almost sing-song. "Feel free to fetch one for yourself."
Klaus, swaying slightly, added with a careless wave of his hand, "Yes, yes, and one for me, please! And for her, and her, and her..." He pointed randomly at the costumed women, his words slurring together in a drunken drawl.
The woman in pink nodded obediently and turned away, heading toward the bar. As she moved, her posture changed subtly, the sway of her hips replaced with a more deliberate grace. She slipped past the onlookers, careful not to draw attention as she ascended a nearby staircase. It was only as she reached the top, disappearing from view, that a flash of familiarity revealed her identity—Freya, cleverly disguised among Klaus's entourage.
Downstairs, Klaus threw his arms wide and bellowed, "Tristan! Tristan! Come out, come out, wherever you are! Unless, of course, you're afraid!" His taunt reverberated through the ballroom, the challenge clear in his voice.
