⁵²:you don't call me Layl anymore?

What is Silas doing here!? Adrian's breath caught in his throat as his eyes locked on the man across the room. He blinked once. Then again. But there was no mistaking it—Silas was here. In the very same gala.

His heart stuttered. Adrian ducked back behind a marble pillar. I need to leave! If he sees me, I'm dead! he muttered under his breath, barely able to contain the dread clawing up his spine.

Not wasting another second, Adrian spun around and dashed toward the garden, weaving through well-dressed guests as quickly and inconspicuously as he could manage. He nearly tripped over the train of a woman's gown but managed to steady himself with an apologetic nod before breaking through the double glass doors that led to the lush, softly lit garden.

Sam was still there, standing exactly where Adrian had left him. He looked like a wide-eyed child who'd stumbled into a dream, completely unaware of the panic painted across Adrian's face.