Page 28 of Celestial Combat

I felt my mother’s gaze burn into me, silent but heavy with expectation. My father hadn’t moved, still watching, waiting for me to give in.

Trevor sighed again, rubbing his temples. “Look, just think about it–”

“No,” I cut him off, already pushing back my chair.

“Kali,” My father warned.

I stood, shoving my napkin onto the table, already walking away. “I have nothing else to say.”

And then I was gone.

The air was crisp when I stepped out of the house, the evening cold biting at my skin. I barely noticed. My pulse was still hammering, my hands still curled into fists.

I inhaled, slow and deep, tilting my head back to stare at the night sky. Stars stretched over Queens, dim against the city’s glow. The estate was massive, looming behind me with its marble columns and sculpted gardens, its pristine luxury something I had never quite felt a part of.

The gates stood tall at the end of the driveway, beyond them the real world, the life I wanted – one that was mine, one that I controlled.

The yellow glow of headlights cut through the darkness.

I’d already planned my escape before dinner had even started. A taxi idled at the curb, waiting.

I exhaled. Dramatic? Maybe. But I wasn’t about to sit through another second of that suffocating bullshit.

My heels clicked against the pavement as I made my way down the driveway, not once looking back. The driver met my gaze through the rearview mirror as I slid into the backseat.

“Where to?”

“Brooklyn.”

The night air hit my skin like a slap, thick with the scent of spilled liquor, cigarettes, and the kind of heat that clung to your body long after you’d left the dance floor. My heels clicked against the pavement as I stepped onto the sidewalk, my friends’ laughter ringing in my ears.

Brooklyn never really slept, not in these parts. Neon signs flickered above the bars and bodegas lining the street, their reds and blues bleeding into the night. A group of guys loitered by a corner store, sharing a blunt and watching us as we passed. Bass from the club still thumped behind us.

“Taxi!”

Daphne, the loudest of the group, threw up her hand, stepping off the curb in her glittering mini dress. A yellow cab veered toward us, slowing just enough for us to pile in, half-drunk and giggling. I slid in last, pressing myself against the door, staring out at the Brooklyn streets as they blurred past.

“Upper East Side!” Ava sang from the middle seat, her head tipping back as she rested against Daphne’s shoulder.

The cab driver grunted in acknowledgment, merging into traffic.

I let my head rest against the window, the cool glass grounding me. The city rolled by in streaks of gold and violet, headlights washing over pedestrians stumbling out of late-night diners and bars. I used to love this. The nights that bled into mornings, the chaos, the freedom.

Now, it all felt...

Dull.

“Who’s got the stuff?” Sophie asked, her voice sweet and light, like she was asking for gum.

Daphne grinned, pulling a small plastic bag from her bra. The car’s dim lighting cast a glow over the fine white powder inside. Ava squealed, clapping her hands together.

“Fuck yes, I needed this,” She said, reaching into her clutch for a credit card.

They worked quickly, Sophie balancing a compact mirror on her lap while Ava poured the coke into neat, precise lines. The smell hit me first – the sharp, synthetic bite of it – before Sophie bent down, pressing one nostril shut and inhaling through a rolled up one-hundred dollar bill.

She jerked upright with a gasp, blinking hard. “Oh, that’s good.”

Daphne followed, then Ava, each of them tilting their heads back, eyes fluttering shut as the drug worked its way through their systems.

---