Chapter 3 — Whispers in the Dark

Orabella

The Velvet Inferno was quieter tonight, its usual roar dimmed to a low growl, but the tension in the air was no less potent. Backstage, shadows clung to the velvet walls like secrets, pressing closer with every step I took. My heels clicked softly against the polished floor as I moved with deliberate ease, each breath measured. This place demanded precision. One misstep, one errant glance, and the fragile web I'd spun could come undone.

The dressing area buzzed with subdued activity. Dancers adjusted their costumes, painted on layers of confidence in the form of makeup, and exchanged murmured gossip over the faint thrum of bass bleeding through the walls. I slid among them like water, smiling faintly at small jokes, nodding at grievances, and asking just enough questions to blend in without drawing attention. Infiltration wasn’t just about staying unnoticed—it was about becoming unremarkable. Tonight, I was Ava Langley, a blank slate with a dancer’s poise and a talent for vanishing into the crowd.

But even as I maneuvered through the room, I felt it—a weight pressing against the back of my neck like a blade poised to strike. Not from the dancers, not from the patrons whose attentions were fleeting and shallow. This was sharper, deliberate. Predatory. I didn’t have to look to know Reyna Knight’s eyes were on me.

Reyna’s presence was a storm just barely contained within her petite frame. She didn’t need to speak for the room to shift around her, spines straightening and conversations tapering off into whispers. Her sharp green eyes tracked me across the room, her gaze a taut bowstring ready to snap. She hadn’t engaged me directly yet, but her silent observation was as much a warning as a spoken threat. She was the kind of woman who could dismantle you with a single look, and I had no intention of giving her the satisfaction.

I leaned casually against the dressing table, running a comb through my hair in slow, deliberate strokes. My ears stayed tuned to the subdued hum of conversation nearby. Two veteran dancers sat a few feet away, their low voices threading through the bassline like whispers in the dark.

“…Victor was here last night,” one murmured, her voice just audible over the din.

“He didn’t stay long, though,” the other replied, her scoff carrying faint derision. “He rarely does. Only comes when there’s something worth his time.”

Their words were an ember sparking within the fog of my focus. Victor Knight didn’t frequent the club often, but when he did, it meant something. That much wasn’t surprising, but it was useful. Men like him didn’t allow their empires’ crown jewels to go unwatched for long. I filed the information away carefully, my expression remaining neutral as I adjusted the strap of my leotard.

“Hey, Ava.” The voice broke through my focus, light and teasing. I turned to see Celine—a willowy blonde with sharp cheekbones and a glint of amusement in her eyes—approach with a faint smirk. Her sequined skirt caught the dim light as she leaned against the table beside me, her lipstick slightly smudged from haste or carelessness. “First-night nerves wearing off yet?”

I returned her smile with practiced ease, tilting my head as though hesitant. “A little. This place… it’s a lot to take in.”

“You’ll get used to it,” she said, smoothing the hem of her skirt as though brushing off invisible dust. “Just keep your head down, though. Reyna doesn’t tolerate drama. And Maddox? He doesn’t even tolerate that.”

“Maddox?” I kept my tone light, curious without seeming overly interested.

She leaned in, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial hush. “You can’t miss him. Leather jacket, perpetually pissed-off expression? He’s Gale’s shadow. If he’s not watching the floor, he’s probably watching you.”

Her words carried the weight of caution wrapped in casual gossip. Maddox wasn’t just a figure to notice; he was a problem to manage. As Gale’s shadow, he was likely privy to everything—and potentially the closest thing to a key that I had yet encountered. I filed her words away, letting a thoughtful nod acknowledge her warning without betraying my interest.

Before I could respond, her eyes flicked toward the doorway, her posture tensing slightly. “Reyna’s coming,” she murmured under her breath.

The shift in the room was subtle but unmistakable. A collective inhalation, a quiet straightening of spines. Even my own stance adjusted instinctively, my movements fluid but deliberate. And then she appeared—Reyna, framed in the dim light of the threshold, her heels striking the polished floor in a steady, unhurried rhythm. She didn’t need to announce herself; the room bent to her presence as if by unspoken command.

Her green eyes swept across the room, sharp as a blade, until they landed on me. I didn’t falter. Instead, I met her gaze—a deliberate acknowledgment, neither submissive nor defiant. Her lips curled into a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

“Ava,” she said, her voice smooth and silken, undercut with steel. “A word.”

I set the comb down and nodded, following her into the hallway. Each step quickened the rhythm of my pulse, but my breathing remained steady. Whatever this was, I couldn’t let her see the cracks. Not yet.

She stopped in a shadowed corner where the bassline from the club was little more than a faint pulse. Leaning against the wall, she crossed her arms, her gaze raking over me with a predator’s precision. Silence stretched between us, taut and deliberate, as though she were savoring the tension. When she finally spoke, her words were razor-sharp.

“You did well tonight,” she said, her tone faintly mocking, as though the compliment were a test. “The crowd liked you.”

“Thank you,” I replied, my voice warm and measured. “I’m glad to have made a good impression.”

Her smile sharpened. “Impressions are everything here. But so is knowing your place.”

I inclined my head slightly, acknowledging the warning without ceding ground. “Of course.”

Reyna stepped closer, her heels nearly brushing mine. The air between us grew heavier, charged with unspoken threats. Her voice dropped lower, intimate yet lethal. “This place doesn’t tolerate mistakes. And neither do I. If you’re here for anything other than dancing…” She let the sentence hang, her smile widening to reveal a glint of teeth. “You’ll regret it.”

The words slipped into the space between us like a dagger, sharp and cold. My muscles tightened imperceptibly, but I held her gaze, steady and unyielding. “Understood.”

She lingered for a moment longer, her eyes searching for cracks. When she found none, she pulled back, her smile morphing back into its polished, professional mask. “Good. Don’t disappoint me.”

With that, she turned and strode away, her figure dissolving into the shadows. I released a slow breath, my pulse steadying even as my mind raced. Reyna wasn’t just suspicious—she was a predator circling her prey, waiting for the right moment to strike. I couldn’t afford to give her one.

Returning to the dressing room, I moved with deliberate ease. The other dancers barely noticed me, their focus already on the next rotation. But at the edge of the room, Maddox’s presence loomed, subtle but undeniable. He stood with his arms crossed, his sharp hazel eyes fixed on me. His posture was deceptively relaxed, but the intensity of his gaze told a different story. Celine’s words echoed in my mind: If he’s not watching the floor, he’s probably watching you.

I forced a faint smile, feigning obliviousness as I gathered my things. Slipping the locket from beneath my leotard, I held it briefly, the cool silver grounding me. A reminder of why I was here. Of what was at stake. The Knights were watching, yes. But they weren’t invincible.

I looked at my reflection in the mirror, amber eyes staring back, steady and unyielding. They could track my every move, but I wasn’t here to lose.

I was here to win.