He raises his glass in a toast. “Here’s to another one of Thatcher’s conquests.”

I don’t raise mine. The word “conquest” feels wrong when it comes to my dove. There’s something more at play, something deeper that I can’t yet put my finger on. But I’ll figure it out. One way or another, she’ll be mine.

“I’m not sure she’ll be as easy as the others,” I murmur, half to myself.

Archie shrugs, tipping back the last of his whiskey. “Since when has that ever stopped you?”

His words echo in the empty room, but I’m no longer listening. My mind is already racing ahead, planning, calculating.

She’s a challenge, yes.

But she doesn’t stand a chance.

Chapter 2

Something slithers across my ankle.

My body freezes, breath caught in my lungs.Don’t move. Don’t even breathe.

The sensation retreats, and I exhale shakily into my pillow. Just my imagination. Halloween jitters. Nothing in my bed except—

There it is again. Not imagination. Something wet. Something withlegs. Multiple legs, crawling deliberately up my calf now.

I launch upright with a strangled scream, heart hammering against my ribs as I fling the covers back. The bedside lamp casts long shadows across my sheets as I brace myself for eight hairy legs and gleaming fangs.

Instead, I’m met with innocent green eyes and the soft rumble of a purr.

My cat.

“Gregory?” I gasp, relief flooding through me until I notice what’s attached to my cat’s sides. “What the actual—CASSIDY!”

I scoop up my bewildered cat, his costume’s extra appendages dangling like limp tentacles, and storm into our shared living room where my roommate is already doubled over with laughter.

“You should see your face!” she wheezes between snorts, tears streaming down her cheeks.

I thrust Gregory under her nose. “What. The. Fuck.”

Greg squirms free from my grip and prances to his sunlit corner, fake spider legs trailing behind him like some unholy feline-arachnid abomination.

“Oh, lighten up, Rhea,” Cassidy wipes her eyes. “It’s Halloween!”

I groan, running a hand through my tangled hair. “I swear, you live for this stuff.”

“Gotta stay consistent, babe.” She winks and flips a strawberry blonde curl from her face. “Besides, I do this every year. It’s your fault for falling for it every time.”

I narrow my eyes.”You calling me gullible?”

Cassidy spins away before my fingers can even graze her, dancing across our small living room and into the kitchenette, giggles trailing behind her like breadcrumbs.

I collapse onto our couch with a defeated sigh. “Why are you even up this early?”

“Early class at the studio,” she calls back, the refrigerator door opening and closing in punctuation.

I stuff a pillow under my head. Maybe I can salvage a few more hours of sleep before class.

Cassidy reappears with a water bottle, her expression entirely too chipper for this ungodly hour. “And I’m thinking…”

I crack open one eye. “Thinking?”