The evening had been perfect, or at least I had convinced myself it was, until the cool night air hit us outside the pub.
The four of us were laughing as we pushed through the heavy wooden doors, Selima was leaning into Michael’s side, her face flushed with a mixture of beer and genuine happiness, Uriel’s arm lay across my shoulders, warm and grounding. But the atmosphere shifted in a heartbeat, the laughter dying in our throats as a shadow detached itself from the brick alleyway.
A girl stepped into the pool of light cast by the streetlamp.
She was stunning in a way that felt aggressive—tall, with eyes that seemed to glow with a sharp, predatory intelligence and hair that fell like a curtain of dark silk over her shoulders. I recognized her immediately.
This was Zelly. On campus, s
