Book 8: Intervention

Evander

The column at my back is smooth and cool to the touch, which is a welcome relief. In front of me, the crowded ballroom in the temple writhes with color and noise as the ball takes on a new vibe. There’s a darker edge to the music now compared to the soft, classical music that was playing before. The dancing has changed as well, and couples are glued to each other as they sway and grind to the music. 

I exhale deeply, crossing my arms over my chest, my feet firmly planted in place. 

A tall, dark haired man dressed similarly to me–all black, wearing a finely made dress shirt and matching trousers–makes his way through the crowd clutching a bottle of what might be beer, his face shadowed and distorted by the strobing light now suffocating the dance floor.

But then I realize who’s walking in my direction.

Flynn huffs out a breath as his back meets the wall behind us. “Fuck, man. This place is getting rowdy. I had to wait t