Third Person POV
After leaving Ysolde's party, Niall and Beatrice didn't exchange a single word.
Neither had the energy to pretend anymore. The night had been one long marathon of humiliation, and they were both too pissed to bother hiding it.
At the curb, Niall pulled his coat tighter and grunted, "Wait here. I'll get the car."
"Fine," Beatrice muttered.
He'd barely turned the corner when some guy jumped out from behind the flowerbed, nearly giving Beatrice a heart attack.
"Bea!" the boy hissed.
He couldn't have been older than twenty, wearing a security guard uniform that hung on him like a coat rack. Beatrice recognized him instantly and dragged him right back behind the bushes, her claws almost breaking through her fingertips as she gripped his sleeve.
"Are yo
