Page 115 of Push My Buttons
Theelevatordoorsslideopen, and I step out into the evening air. The rooftop has been transformed into something straight out of Wasteland Chronicles including massive screens displaying gameplay footage from the new expansion.
Jace nearly lost his mind when I told him I'd meet them at the venue instead of letting them escort me. The memory of our phone call makes me smile despite my nerves.
"Absolutely not," he'd said, his voice tight with barely controlled panic. "We'll pick you up. End of discussion. Wren, there's a killer out there who's obsessed with you. This isn't the time to make a statement about independence."
"That's exactly why I need to do this," I'd told him softly. "I can't live in fear forever, Jace. I won't. But I promise to take precautions—we're coming straight from Theo's building in a secure car service, I’ll have the driver wait until we're inside, and I'll text you the moment I arrive."
His silence had stretched so long I thought he might have hung up.
"If anything happens to you..." he'd finally said, his voice breaking slightly.
"It won't," I'd assured him. "I'm done being a victim. Trust me to know what I need."
Those last words had gotten through to him. After everything that had happened between us, trust was the currency we were rebuilding our relationship with.
"Text me the second you arrive," he'd finally conceded. "Not a minute later."
I pause at the entrance, taking it all in. My heart hammers against my ribs, though not from fear. For once, the flutter in my chest is pure anticipation.
"Ma'am, can I see your invitation?" A security guard steps forward, his eyes widening slightly as he takes in my appearance.
I hand him the embossed card Jace gave me yesterday. He scans it, then returns it with a nod that's more respectful than professional. "Enjoy your evening, Ms. Maddox."
I smile my thanks and move past him toward the entrance proper. The rooftop entrance sits higher than the main party area, creating a natural stage for arrivals. A set of wide stairs leads down to where everyone is mingling, giving me a perfect view of the crowd below.
I can't help but laugh inwardly at the irony. Just a few months ago, I was rolling my eyes at these tech bros with their expensive watches and startup jargon, serving them coffee with a plastered-on smile while internally mocking their self-importance. Now I'm madly in love with two of them, about to attend their industry's biggest event of the season.
Life has a twisted sense of humor sometimes.
Now, standing at the top of the stairs, I feel the weight of eyes turning toward me. Conversations pause mid-sentence. Drinks freeze halfway to lips. Even the music seems to momentarily fade as heads swivel in my direction.
Let them look. I'm done hiding.
Maya had spent hours getting me ready. First, she'd carefully shaved a subtle undercut around the base of my hair, artfully working around my healing stitches to create an edgy foundation. Then came the extensions—thick sections of jet black and ice blonde woven seamlessly into my natural pink. The effect was striking—my hair transformed into a living canvas of pink, black, and blonde, like some exotic calico cat. But to me it was a way of merging my lives as Vanta and Lilliana with who I am now.
With nimble fingers, she'd braided and twisted it into an elaborate style that was part Viking warrior, part dystopian queen. Small braids woven with silver thread framed my face, while larger braids formed an intricate crown atop my head.
"If anyone is the embodiment of Wasteland Chronicles tonight, it's you," Maya had said, stepping back to admire her handiwork.
The moonlight dress Theo helped me pick shimmers against my skin, the handkerchief hem floating around my legs like liquid silver. But it's what I've added over it that transforms the look from merely beautiful to truly powerful.
The costume Lorna created for the calendar shoot—the one I'd worn as Vanta—now adorns my body like battle armor. Maya spent hours last night reattaching each patch, each embellishment, creating a layered masterpiece that perfectly captures the aesthetic of Jace's game. The juxtaposition of the ethereal dress beneath the battle-worn costume pieces creates exactly the effect I wanted: beauty and strength, vulnerability and power, all in one.
My makeup completes the transformation—dramatic cat eyes rimmed with smoky shadow that Maya meticulously blended into shimmering silver at the corners, cheekbones highlightedto an almost otherworldly glow, and lips painted a deep, rich burgundy.
I am Wren. I am Vanta. I am Silence. I am Lilliana. I am all of them and none of them—I am myself, finally and completely.
As I stand at the top of the stairs, I see the exact moment Jace and Theo spot me. They're standing near the bar, deep in conversation with someone who looks important—some executive in an expensive suit. But the moment I appear, everything else ceases to exist for them.
Theo freezes mid-sentence, his drink halfway to his lips. Jace, who was nodding at whatever the executive was saying, suddenly goes completely still, his head snapping up as if pulled by an invisible string.
The look on their faces—it's everything. Worth every minute of preparation, worth every ounce of courage it took to walk in here alone.
Theo's expression is open awe, his lips parted in speechless admiration. But it's Jace's reaction that steals my breath. His face—usually so controlled, so measured—transforms completely. The mask of professional detachment falls away, replaced by naked desire, pride, and something that looks remarkably like reverence.
I begin my descent down the stairs, conscious of every eye in the place following my movement. The costume pieces clink softly with each step, a musical accompaniment to my entrance. I keep my gaze locked with Jace and Theo's, drawing strength from their reactions.
Halfway down, I realize that the crowd has actually parted, creating a clear path from the bottom of the stairs directly to where my men stand. It's like a scene from a movie—the sea of people splitting to create a perfect line of sight between us.
