CHAPTER 216 Handoff
*Joy*
The auditorium of New Salem High exploded with sound and motion, a sensory overload of chaos and teenage adrenaline. Strobe lights sliced the thick air into epileptic shards, catching on clouds of glitter and the sheen of teenage sweat. Bass-heavy pop music rattled the bleachers and made the floorboards thrum beneath my heels. Sequined dresses spun like disco balls, tuxes clung to boys not yet men, and everyone danced like the apocalypse was scheduled for midnight.
I moved through it all with Liam at my side, our arms linked like we were just another couple revisiting old stomping grounds. I hadn’t even removed my trench coat—its folds hiding the emerald satin gown molded to my frame and, more importantly, the weapon strapped to my thigh. A pearl-handled Beretta, cool and silent against my skin.
Liam, radiant in a perfectly tailored suit, played the role of golden boy to perfection. His hair, just a shade too perfect, glinted under the gym lights, and his smile was all confidence and nostalgia. “Crowd’s hyped tonight,” he said, nodding toward a huddle of students filming themselves doing a chaotic TikTok routine near the punch bowl. “Hope I don’t bomb this speech. Think they’ll boo me off the stage?”
I forced a chuckle, my eyes never settling. “You’ll charm them,” I murmured, scanning the glitter-drenched chaos. Too many faces. Too many shadows.
My earpiece crackled faintly, a whisper of static beneath Dom’s clipped voice barking instructions to Dina. My focus sharpened. There—just past the cheer squad doing cartwheels by the bleachers—was a ripple in the crowd. A woman, all black elegance and menace. Cocktail hat perched low, a noir silhouette that did not belong at a high school dance.
The veiled woman drifted between teens like smoke, too graceful to be drunk, too poised to be anyone’s mom chaperoning this sugar-drenched circus. My skin prickled.
“Come on, Mrs. Cohen,” Liam said suddenly, tugging me toward the makeshift dance floor. “Dance with me. The kids will love it.” He glanced at his watch and grinned. “I’ve got time before the speech.”
I pasted on a smile so wide it ached. “One dance,” I relented, letting him twirl me into the blur of bodies. “Then it’s straight to the mic, superstar.”
His hands found my waist, his eyes soft. Mine stayed alert, flicking past the DJ booth’s mirrored wall. That’s when I saw her again—our cocktail hat phantom—slipping past a group of giggling girls near the entrance, moving with deliberate elegance.
I glanced at Liam as he smiled like nothing could touch him. It reminded me of that night ten years ago. Sure, he was untouchable then, but he wasn't untouchable now.
The song shifted to a syrupy ballad—some recycled love song too cheesy to mean anything—and we swayed in rhythm while I catalogued every exit, every threat, every face that didn’t fit.
Then, the music cut out.
A male voice burst through the speakers, loud and theatrical. “Let’s give a beeeee-autiful welcome to New Salem’s very own mayor, Liam Cohen, and his beeee-autiful wife, Mrs. Virtue Cohen!”
A spotlight snapped on us.
Liam lifted his hand in a wave, his smile broadening. The crowd roared. Phones were already up, filming us.
He leaned in, lips brushing my ear. “Quick speech, honey. Want to come up with me?”
I giggled. “Ah, no. I’m more of a stage wife, remember? Lurking glamorously in the background where I belong.”
He kissed my cheek as the chant began—*Cohen*! *Cohen*!—swelling like a war cry.
“Alright,” he said, grinning. “But stay where I can see you.”
“I will,” I promised, sending a blown kiss after him as he disappeared into the sea of students.
Then I saw her again.
She moved like a shadow dressed for a gala—slipping through the crowd with eerie calm, her veiled face turned just slightly, eyes locked on me. In her hand was something slim—too slender to be a purse. A phone? A syringe?
The hairs on my arms stood.
“Dina,” I whispered, adjusting my earring like any bored socialite, “I’ve got eyes on her. Black dress. Cocktail hat. She’s near the DJ booth. Holding something. Confirm?”
The static hissed before Dina’s voice broke through. “On it. Lights are making the cams useless, but I’ve got her. Definitely our girl. She’s circling you like a hawk. Not here for punch.”
I scanned the perimeter. The woman was either Pete’s eyes or his lure. Either way, she was way too close. I needed to get to the west entrance for the handoff. Kiki was waiting in the bathroom, armed and impatient.
I turned, catching her reflection in the mirror behind the DJ. She was edging closer and her smile was slow and deliberate like she *knew* what was going to happen.
“Dina,” I hissed again, stepping behind a group of students. “She’s not just watching. She knows. She’s toying with me.”
Dina swore. “Cams are glitching—someone’s using a jammer. Dom, did you catch that?”
Dom’s voice came on, sharp and cold. “Copy. If she follows you out, lure her to the west side bathroom. Kiki’s there, locked and loaded. But Virtue, hold your ground until the message pings. You move too soon, they'll suspect you know and we lose our window."
“Ladies and gentlemen, it’s great to beeeee here!” Liam’s voice filled the gym, charismatic and blinding as ever.
I joined the applause, lips curved in a smile I didn’t feel.
My clutch suddenly buzzed.
I slipped out my phone. A text from an unknown number.
*I have damning evidence against Liam Cohen*. *West entrance of the school*. *Come now*. *Come alone*.
There it was. The bait.
Liam’s voice rang out, steady. “It’s been exactly ten years since I roamed these halls…”
But his smile faltered, just slightly. His eyes drifted to the back, locked on something—or someone—I couldn’t see. A flicker of unease passed across his face before he recovered, laughing into the mic.
That was my cue.
I turned and slid out of the auditorium, heels silent against the corridor floor. The hallway echoed with faint music and distant laughter. One more left, and I slipped into the girls’ bathroom.
Kiki stood before the mirror, casually picking at her nose. She turned with a sly grin. "V, there you are. I was about to come looking for you.” She handed me a compact black case. “You forgot your cosmetic kit.”
I smirked. “You're so thoughtful.”
My eyes swept the stalls. Empty. But that didn’t mean we weren’t being listened to.
“Are you heading back to the auditorium?” she asked, raising her voice like we were gossiping about dresses and corsages.
“Nope,” I replied just as loudly. “I’ve got to meet someone first. You should come with. Then we’ll hit the punch bowl before Liam and I jet out.”
I checked my watch. “There's still time for a quick drink.”
We linked arms, twin silhouettes in black trench coats, and walked in step.
As we reached the west entrance, the cold breath of night slipped through the doorframe. We paused, hands tightening.
Then, two shadows surged forward from either side.
A cloth, sweet and chemical, slammed over my mouth.
I gasped, twisted—
—and everything went black.
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