Against Devil

10 - The Ball

Two weeks flew by like a whisper in a storm, and Alex and I had settled back into our usual routine—silence, avoidance, and the slow, suffocating ache of things unsaid. Ignorance and hiding were his coping mechanisms. Mine? Anger. Elegance. Presence.

The laughter from the ballroom grated against my nerves. It was too bright, too loud, too artificial. A brittle sound that echoed off the marbled walls like the shattering of something once whole.

I paused at the top of the grand staircase, my fingers lightly grazing the cool banister. Below me, the ballroom gleamed in gold and glass. Chandeliers hung like frozen waterfalls, shedding shimmering light over the sea of nobles and alphas, each adorned in silk and pride. Faces powdered and painted to perfection, voices lilting with practiced charm. But it was the eyes that betrayed them—calculating, watchful, like wolves sizing up prey behind masks of civility.

I took a breath, then descended.

My emerald velvet gown clung to every curve, a deliberate choice. The deep green contrasted with the pale of my skin and made my eyes sharper, more dangerous. Each step was measured, the staccato click of my heels echoing like a heartbeat against stone. My hair had been twisted into a precise bun, strands curled and draped to frame my face. I wanted to look like something people remembered—soft but deadly. A dagger wrapped in silk.

Eyes turned. Whispers stirred. I felt their stares like pins against my skin. Let them look. Let them wonder.

I moved through the ballroom like smoke, fluid and untouchable, until I found Lizzy and Jasmine tucked in a shadowed corner. Lizzy looked like power incarnate—her navy gown sleek and commanding, her cropped curls bouncing as she gestured toward someone across the room. Jasmine shimmered in gold, her beauty effortless, but her eyes held something else—tension, unease. A secret curled in the hollow of her throat.

"Ugh, it's suffocating down here," I murmured, slipping between them and lifting Lizzy's untouched champagne from her fingers. The bubbles kissed my lips. "The smell of ego alone is enough to kill."

Lizzy snorted. "You look like you came here to commit murder in style."

"That's because I did," I said, arching a brow. "Metaphorically."

"You look stunning," she added more softly, her gaze tinged with concern.

"So do you," I replied, and meant it. She looked like a queen. And tonight, she needed that armor.

I moved away from Lizzy and Jasmine, weaving through the crowd toward a tray of champagne flutes drifting by on a silver platter. The music swelled, violins sweeping like a gust of wind through velvet.

And that's when I saw him.

Leaning against a marble column, dressed in all black - Alpha Alec - looked like sin wrapped in silk. Tall, lean but broad-shouldered, with long dark hair tucked behind one ear and a neatly trimmed beard that only added to his roguish allure. He looked like he belonged in a forgotten legend—ancient, charming, dangerous.

His eyes caught mine. Piercing. Intrigued.

"Going somewhere, Lady Bella?" he drawled, his voice like dark wine—slow, rich, with a bite.

I arched a brow, fingers curling around the stem of a glass. "Just stealing a drink before I start screaming."

He smiled, slow and crooked. "In that case... you'll need something stronger than champagne. Or a dance."

I narrowed my eyes. "You think a dance will fix my mood?"

"No," he said easily, stepping forward and offering his hand, "but I think it'll make everyone here watch you. And I think you like that."