The mirror was still fogged when Selene leaned over the sink.
Hot mist clung to the glass like a veil, refusing to fade even as the room cooled.
She stared into it anyway.
Not to see herself—but to see through herself.
There was a time when she liked mirrors.
Liked their certainty.
Liked the precision, the power.
Liked how she could fix everything wrong with just a swipe of lipstick or a sharper heel.
She could sculpt her armor in glass.
But not anymore.
Not now.
Not when someone else was watching from the other side.
A black rose sat on the counter.
Same kind as the one from her desk.
But this one had thorns.
Real ones.
No note. No card. Just the silent dare of beauty laced with threat.
Her thumb brushed the edge and came away bleeding.
A thin slice. A red line.
She smiled.
"Cute."
She dried her hand on a towel that was not her own.
"Cam," she said as she slipped into the booth ten minutes before the doors opened.
"I'm here," he replied, already typing.
"Where's Ace?"
"Doesn't exist."
Her head tilted, slow and sharp.
"No trace?"
"No social. No prints. Nothing. Whoever he is, he came in with the Monday group and never gave his real name."
"You run the cameras?"
"Only one backstage angle caught a silhouette. Can't get a face. Real pro."
Selene narrowed her eyes. "How'd he pass security?"
"Fake ID scanned clean. Either it was tech-level… or we've got a traitor."
Her nails tapped against her thigh.
Once. Twice. Again.
She hated this part—the waiting.
The smell of fire with no visible flame.
"You got a list of everyone who went near June's dressing room in the last 72 hours?"
"I do."
"Start bringing them in. One by one. Lock the front. No one else enters till I say."
The first girl was Kitty.
Blonde. Built like a pop song.
Wide eyes, glossy lips, all curves and contradiction.
Selene didn't ask her to sit.
She just said, "Talk."
"I never touched her stuff. We shared lipstick once but that was weeks ago."
"Did she say anything strange lately?"
Kitty blinked. "June was private. Always had her earbuds in. Always writing in that red notebook."
Selene's fingers twitched.
"What notebook?"
"The red one. She kept it in her locker."
"She didn't have a red one in her locker."
Kitty's lips parted. "Then someone took it."
Selene nodded once.
Next.
Six girls later, and all she had were fragments.
Pieces of a ghost.
"June was seeing someone."
"She had bruises—said it was from pole practice but…"
"She was scared last week. Said someone followed her home."
Selene pieced it together like broken glass.
Someone had wormed into her house.
Into her club.
Into her girls.
And June had written it all down.
Cam walked in with a flash drive.
"Found something."
He plugged it into the monitor.
Selene squinted as the footage flickered to life.
Low-quality backstage footage.
A shadow.
Tall.
Moving like smoke.
The figure reached into June's locker, pulled out something thin—red—and tucked it inside a coat.
The timestamp: two days ago.
She froze the frame.
Zoomed.
The hand had a ring. Snake-shaped and silver.
Not one of hers.
Not a staff.
Not from here.
Cam's voice dropped. "He knew where to go. What to take."
Selene sat back slowly.
Cold crept in beneath her collar.
"He's not just here for thrills," she murmured.
"He's here for me."
Later that night, the club was alive again.
Music thumped. Lights danced. Skin glowed under neon.
Selene walked the floor in black silk.
Hair pinned high.
Her smile sharp enough to scar.
The girls danced.
The customers gawked.
Bills flew.
But she wasn't watching the stage.
She was watching the shadows.
Someone was in her walls.
Someone close enough to breathe down her neck.
But she wouldn't flinch.
She wouldn't give him that power.
Instead, she made her move.
"Cam," she said into the mic hidden in her cuff. "Cut the music. Kill the lights."
He hesitated. "Now?"
"Now."
The club plunged into darkness.
Gasps. A few squeals. A drunken whistle.
Then—
A spotlight snapped on above center stage.
Just one beam. Just silence.
Then Selene stepped into it.
No mic. No music.
Just her.
"This place," she said, her voice calm and dangerous, "was built on secrets."
The crowd froze.
Even the walls seemed to hold their breath.
She let the silence settle.
Made it hers.
"But someone in here thinks they can use those secrets against me."
She turned slowly in the light.
"Let me be clear. I don't break easily. And I don't bend for anyone."
She smirked.
"If you came here thinking I'd fall…"
A pause. A breath.
"Then you picked the wrong Queen."
She stepped off stage.
The music resumed.
But something had changed.
The girls glanced over shoulders.
The men whispered.
Everyone was watching everyone.
Just like she wanted.
Back in her office, the red notebook waited.
Cam had found it under a sink, wrapped in plastic, flushed halfway down the bathroom pipe.
Selene pulled on gloves before touching it.
The cover was damp but intact.
She opened it.
The first page was blank.
The second wasn't.
"If I disappear, it's because of him. The one they call Vex."
Her blood went cold.
She flipped more pages.
Drawings. Notes.
A name circled again and again.
VEX
Cam hovered behind her. "You ever heard that name?"
"No."
"But June had."
Selene didn't speak for a long time.
Then, softly, "She was trying to warn me."
"About who?"
"I don't know yet."
"But you're scared."
Selene looked up. Eyes dry. Cold.
"I'm never scared."
Cam nodded once. Said nothing.
He didn't believe her.
She didn't blame him.
Midnight hit.
Selene walked the hall alone, heels echoing like a countdown.
Like a clock ticking toward war.
Her office light was still on.
But she hadn't left it that way.
The door was cracked.
She drew her gun.
Pushed it open.
No one inside.
But her chair was spinning.
Slowly.
On the desk:
The black rose.
And a photo.
She froze.
It was of her.
Nineteen. Smiling.
Wrapped in the arms of a man whose face had been burned out of the image.
But the ring on his hand was untouched.
Snake-shaped.
Silver.
Her hands shook.
The past wasn't just coming back.
It had already arrived.