The bass was already rattling Jacaerys’s ribs by the time he stepped through the club doors. Strobe lights cut the darkness into fragments, painting the crowd in flashes of violet, red, and blinding white. The air reeked of perfume, sweat, and alcohol, and he tugged nervously at his shirt collar as Cregan slammed an arm around his shoulder.

“Come on, Jace—this is exactly what you need,” Cregan shouted over the beat, already grinning wide. In his free hand, he held out a sweating glass with neon liquid that looked vaguely dangerous.

Jacaerys wrinkled his nose. “I’m not drinking that.”

“You are,” Cregan insisted, thrusting it into his hand. “Loosen up. The whole point of coming out is that you stop thinking like an old man.”

Jace gave a crooked laugh, shaking his head. He wasn’t built for nights like this—the smoke machines, the heat, the way the crowd moved like a tide. At home, in the quiet, he could think. Here, it was all sensation: lights, sound, hands brushing too close as strangers shoved past.

But Cregan was already hauling him through the crush of bodies, toward the dance floor pulsing with movement. Jace let himself get dragged, muttering curses under his breath but secretly grateful to not be alone.

And then he saw her.

At first, it was just the silhouette—a familiar sway of shoulders, a laugh that cut through the music. Then the lights caught her, and his stomach dropped.

His girlfriend.

Not in her usual hoodie and worn-in jeans, not perched cross-legged on his dorm bed with textbooks spread everywhere. Here she was sequins and eyeliner, hair glittering under the strobe, hips moving to the rhythm with her friends. She looked like she belonged in this world.

Jace froze, the neon drink forgotten in his hand. His chest seized with something sharp—pride, disbelief, and something close to panic.

“Shit,” he muttered.

Cregan, following his gaze, smirked knowingly. “Well, well. Didn’t think she’d be here.”

“Neither did I,” Jace admitted, his throat dry. He hadn’t even told her he was going out tonight. Not because he was hiding, but because this wasn’t him—he never pictured them colliding in a place like this.

As if sensing the weight of his stare, her eyes lifted across the crowd and locked with his. For a heartbeat, she looked surprised—caught off guard. But then came the slow smile tugging at her lips, curling like a challenge. She raised her glass toward him, a deliberate toast, her gaze steady as if to say well, are you going to stand there, or come find me?

Cregan leaned close to Jace’s ear, the grin in his voice unmistakable. “You going over, or are you gonna stand here like a coward?”

The music surged, bass pounding like a second heartbeat. Jace’s fingers tightened around the drink. Every instinct warred inside him: the urge to bolt, to play it safe, to avoid whatever conversation or confrontation might come out of this—and the stronger pull, magnetic and inevitable, to her.

He could already imagine what she’d say. Maybe she’d tease him for crashing her night out. Maybe she’d be angry he hadn’t told her he was here. Or maybe, with that smile lingering, she wanted him to join her, to step into her world for once instead of always dragging her into his.

The crowd shifted, a tide of strangers moving between them, and for a moment she disappeared from view. Jace’s pulse spiked as he tried to follow, craning his neck.

When the lights flashed again, she was still watching him—closer now, weaving her way through the crowd with that same sly smile.

Jace felt himself breathe out, chest tight with nerves and anticipation. He didn’t even realize he was moving until Cregan slapped his back in approval.

“Go on, dragon boy. Don’t let her do all the work.”

Jace threaded his way into the crush of bodies, heart hammering in time with the music. The neon drink sloshed over his knuckles, forgotten, as the lights swallowed him whole.

The night was wide open, dangerous and glittering, and for the first time all evening Jace wasn’t thinking—he was only moving, pulled toward her like gravity itself.