ELISHA’S POV
I wasn’t sure when Natalie had slithered close enough to rest her hand on Anthony’s shoulder, but I saw it there—soft and possessive—just before he brushed it off and nodded toward the hallway.
“Come on,” he said to me. “Lead the way.”
I didn’t answer. Just turned and walked.
We moved through the crowd in silence. The room was full—guests in pearls and pressed collars, drinks in hand, conversation light and meaningless.
I could feel some people looking. A few smiled and greeted me like nothing was wrong, like they hadn’t heard any of the whispers. Others avoided eye contact completely. And then there were those—the ones who gave me soft, sad eyes, full of pity or sympathy, like I was a wounded bird still fluttering around the party.
I kept walking. I didn’t flinch. These people knew nothing about the truth.
Behind me, I could feel Anthony. Not because I turned to check. I didn’t need to. His presence carried. Heavy. Electric.
Like a current just beneath my skin.
I led h
