Not tonight. Not ever.
I passed clumps of students whispering, their eyes flicking between the ballroom doors and me. “Move!” I snapped, slicing through them with a glare as I scanned the room for Callum. My heels clicked like gunshots.
Some still looked at me with awe, yes. As they should. But some… some had that gleam. That curious, doubtful little spark in their eyes.
Stop looking at me like that.
Stop. Stop. Stop.
I stormed toward the edge of the ballroom, practically vibrating, when I caught sight of a balding head and ugly maroon robes. The principal.
“You!” I snarled, stalking across the ballroom like vengeance in heels, each step snapping against the marble like gunfire. “You! Ugh! I swear to the gods, this is your fault!”
He turned mid-sip on his drink, startled. “Bianca—”
