The Mystery Man Pov
On the balcony, I take a look.
Tonight the grand ballroom of Austen's Hotel is a glittering prison — crystal chandeliers suspended like frozen stars, walls in velvet, gilded details catching every sparkle of light. The smell of roses and perfumes mixes with the taste of champagne and the sound of laughter and well-rehearsed conversations.
Everyone here believes they are safe. Everyone here thinks it is merely a party.
But I see things differently.
Parties are the perfect places to hide a mess. When people are preoccupied with presenting their best selves, they never notice the knife being sharpened behind the stage.
I move my wine glass slowly in a circular motion, watching how the bright red wine touches the glass like little waves. Each drop mirrors bits of faces around — nobles, heirs, royals, and opportunists who think that from tonight they will be known more.
They are all wrong.
Names will be lost tonight.
My gaze first landed on Zyron.
