Page 87 of Cruel Cravings

“No. She’s alive.”

“Then how… how are we going to find her?”

“The Midnight Society. Tonight.”

“Thanks to Nolan? He’s going to get us an invite to the party?”

“We will have access to the party.”

It’s all Brontë tells me as he finishes sliding on his minotaur mask and then grabs the duffle bag and other supplies we’ve brought with us. I pop to my feet and join him at the door, ready to embark on the next chapter of this mission we’ve set out on together.

Secrets linger in the air at the Winchester Hotel as I put my formal server uniform on and follow the other trail of servers into the kitchen.

If you’d asked me how Brontë and I would be infiltrating the Midnight Society, I never would’ve guessed it would be like this.

I’ve been hired on by a catering company to be a server for tonight’s event while Brontë will be security. As it turns out, Nolan pulled the strings to make both of these moves happen. I’ve asked little to no questions.

My mind’s on my sister as a tray of champagne flutes is pushed toward me and I’m told to work the floor.

The Midnight Society’s masquerade is in full swing.

Gold-trimmed columns stretch toward the vaulted ceilings and diamond chandeliers cast a soft, flickering glow over polished marble floors.

The guests move in fluid circles, their laughter low and their chatter hushed. They’re a sea of opulence, draped in flowing ball gowns and sharp tuxedos. Masks conceal their identities, though they all seem to recognize each other.

I move among them like the outsider that I am. A nobody in a crisp black uniform and white button-up shirt, my silver tray balanced on the palm of my hand.

They might not notice me, but I see each and every one of them. I scan the masked faces as I pass through, searching for the slightest clue hinting at my sister. Her name on someone’s lips or even the sound of her beautiful music.

These people could be responsible for what happened to her. If my sister was dating Kaden Raskova and this society considered him a member.

I’ve studied his face too—I have it memorized in case I should come across him tonight. He should dread the moment he ever comes in contact with me…

“You,” a man murmurs out of nowhere. His voice is gravelly with age, yet sharp with suspicion. He reaches out to grab my free wrist and pull me a step back. “You look familiar.”

Piercing blue eyes glare at me from behind a mask, belonging to an older man with neatly combed white hair.

His grip tightens on my wrist. “I know you. You performed in that show.”

My throat thickens as I try to swallow. “Sir, I’m not sure what you’re talking about. I’m here to serve refreshments. Would you like one?”

Before he can respond, a woman—elegant and poised in an emerald-green gown and shawl—steps between us and swats the man on the shoulder.

“Harold, stop harassing the servers.” She raises her sparse white brows. “Now.”

His grip loosens. I pull back immediately, the tray shaky in my grasp.

“But she looks so familiar. I’ve seen her somewhere, June,” he insists. “She looks just like that girl from the show months ago.”

“You’ve had one too many to drink… as usual. She’s nothing but the help.”

The haughty woman seizes her husband by the arm and drags him away without even a glance at me. As she said, I’m just the help.

But I’m more stuck on the man named Harold recognizing me. Was it my face he found familiar or my sister’s?

I hurry to slip back into the crowd out of hope I’ll disappear. Harold or his wife, June, won’t be able to accost me a second time, insisting they recognize me from some show.

To distract myself, I scan the guests for any sign of Imani Makune, the girl who’s been claiming she’s my best friend’s sister. Nolan Ramsey had mentioned she’d been invited by Francesco Gigante (the same man who had been talking to my sister on Cyber Fans), but as I look around, I don’t see her. She’s nowhere to be found.

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