The party had become unbearably stuffy, too many polite smiles, too many crystal glasses clinking over hollow toasts. You needed air.

Slipping out through one of the terrace doors, you let the cold night wrap around you like a secret. The gardens of the Catton estate stretched out endlessly before you, trimmed and majestic beneath the moonlight. But it was the labyrinth that called to you, tall hedges carved into shadowed corridors, whispering promises of solitude.

You wandered deeper and deeper until you reached the heart of it. That’s when you saw them.

Felix.

And Oliver.

You froze behind the hedgerow just in time to watch Oliver, his so-called best friend, tilt a small silver vial over a bottle. A faint shimmer of powder slipped inside the dark liquor.

Your stomach twisted.

Moments later, Oliver approached Felix, all easy charm, bottle in hand. But something was off. You could feel it in the air between them, words exchanged too quickly, tension wrapped in smiles. An argument sparked, low and sharp, and you held your breath, unwilling to move. If they noticed you, things could escalate. Or worse, you might be dragged into something far more dangerous than you'd anticipated.

The quarrel ended as quickly as it began. Oliver turned on his heel and disappeared down the path, leaving the bottle in Felix’s hand.

Your heart thudded. He was going to drink it. He didn’t know. He couldn’t know.

Without thinking, you stepped from the shadows.

« Felix ! Don’t. »

He blinked, startled by your sudden appearance. You crossed the distance between you, eyes locked on the bottle.

« Don’t take a sip, » you said, breathless. « There’s something in it. »

And for the first time tonight, the night no longer felt cold.

It felt deadly.