Page 8 of Midnight Rebel

“No,” I snap too quickly. Hawk’s eyebrows shoot up, and I sigh. “Maybe. It’s not important.”

Hawk chuckles. “Right. Sure. Could’ve fooled me.” His teasing grin only grates on my already frayed nerves. “Looks like a little bird in the garden has distracted you.”

My glare could melt steel. He just grins wider. “Our Ghost might be human after all.”

“Careful, brother,” Hawk says, a faint note of laughter in his voice. “Don’t let me keep you from your ‘not important business.’”

The teasing barely registers. The ballroom feels smaller, heavier, and the longer I go without finding her, the harder it gets to focus on anything else.

I tell myself I’m just doing another check—another sweep through the crowd for security threats—but it’s a lie.

I only have one target.

Where the hell is she?

Because even now, despite everything else pulling at me, her face is right there. Vivid and bright at the front of my mind.

Her bright eyes flashed with guilt when I’d caught her in the garden, camera in hand. I should have called her out right then. But the thought of scaring her away stopped me.

Now, she’s all I can think about.

I don’t do this. I don’t chase women, especially not ones who look like trouble. But here I am, prowling the edges of the dance floor like some lovesick fool. What the hell is wrong with me?

The grandfather clock chimes. Eleven, the last chime ringing out through the ballroom like a warning bell. One hour until midnight. One hour until unmasking.

The crowd presses closer, the masked faces of strangers forming a wall between me and the answers I need. Every minute that slips away feels heavier.

That she could vanish before midnight—it gnaws at me, hollowing out any semblance of calm I’m holding onto.

“Colton, darling!”

My chest tightens as soon as I hear it. I barely suppress a groan as my mother floats toward me, extravagant in her emerald dress, her hair laced with peacock feathers like some forgotten queen from a lost age.

“There you are.” Her smile brightens, oblivious to the storm boiling just beneath the surface. “Isn’t the ball marvelous? I’ve been looking for you, thinking you’d disappeared!”

I fight to keep my voice steady. “There was a security issue. It’s been taken care of.”

Her expression falters. “Well, thank you for handling it.” She scans the ballroom before her gaze flicks back to me, and she grins. “Since you’re here now, I’d love for you to meet a few people?—“

“Sorry,” I cut her off, probably too abruptly. “Need to check something.”

Confusion and hurt flicker across her face. “Colton, what’s gotten into you? You seem distracted.”

But I’m already slipping into the crowd, my gaze homing in on the far end of the ballroom.

And then, I see her. She’s near one of the tall windows at the edge of the room. She’s partially hidden by a curtain, yet unmistakable. The red dress, dark mask, the way she holds herself. The slope of her neck.

Firefly.

Before I realize what I’m doing, I’m moving. Pushing past laughing guests. Dodging waiters. My focus narrows until she’s all I can see.

My chest lightens. Determination takes over. I move, weaving through the crowd. Gloved hands and gowns blur past. My focus narrows. She’s close now.

I see her chest rise and fall, her fingers playing with her mask. Nervous? Or waiting?

For me?

I’m only a few feet away when she finally spots me. Her entire body goes still. Even with the mask hiding most of her face, I sense the weight of her gaze.

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