"Everything's all clear," Enzo calls to me. We're both in Adriano's room... Adriano hasn't even shown up at his own party yet. Enzo is on the balcony, watching over the vast ocean of people who're spectating the fireworks. I'm supposed to be watching the door, but I'm just laying on the bed, watching the ceiling fan whir around and around. 

"Great," I acknowledge.

"You don't want to see the fireworks? They're nice from here," he notes, tone seeming whimsical.

"Last time there were fireworks, one of my best friends got shot," I remind him, heaving a sigh.

"You can focus on that, or you can focus on the fact that you got your brother back," Enzo suggests, coming inside from the balcony. He sits on the corner of the bed, elbows on his knees and hands folded. Something's been bugging him just about all night. I can't blame him, but then again, things never bug Enzo King – they piss him off. And right now, he doesn't seem pissed off or sad or anything; just worried.

I let out a disgruntled moan before rolling my eyes and flipping on my side.

"What's wrong?" Enzo inquires. I feel his weight shift on the bed, but he stays where he is. Right now, Enzo is encased in his own mind.

"Call me crazy: but the fact that nothing's wrong. I came here for an end – not fireworks. And if there's no havoc, then the killers aren't here which means no end."

My phone buzzes. There's a phone call from Maren.

"Hello?" I ask, sounding as bored as I feel.

"Reyna!" she sighs, flustered. "Is Ozzy with you?"

"No," I replied. "No, it's just Enzo and me at the balcony. Is he with Makai?"

"No, I'm with Makai. And Kellin and Grayson haven't seen him either," Maren goes on. I hear her breathing increase. "Where could he be?"

"Ew," Enzo sounds as the smoke reaches the second floor and infiltrates the room.

"This smoke smells terrible; it's like... Rotten steak." He waves his hand around his nose before shutting the doors.

 "Maren, I'm sure he's fine," I dismiss. 

Hanging up, I look to see Enzo running a hand through his long hair. "You've been nervous all night," I finally bring to attention.

"Haven't we all?" he deflects.

"You're never nervous."

"This is bigger than my daily problems," he deflects again – not really answering my insinuated question.

"How so?" I inquire, propping myself up on my elbows to look at him. Though his back is to me, I'm sure he's got his hands folded together and pressed against his mouth in a stiff manner.

"This is the real deal, I guess. And..." he exhales and turns towards me. His golden eyes are glassy.

"And?" I gently press.

Enzo opens his mouth to give, what appears to be a confessional, when my phone dings with a text. It's from Allister... or Allister's phone, I should say.

Allister: So, are you actually enjoying yourself for once?

When she was alive, Allister said that right to my face at Destiny's party. The only people I was with were Makai, Hanzo, Della, and Allister. The only one alive out of them is Makai. Is he the one I shouldn't have trusted? Did he get intentionally tortured to clear his name of being a murderer just to gain my trust? Maybe this is about me, after all.

"Sorry," I apologize to Enzo. "I thought it might be important. You were saying?"

"I admit that there are things I haven't told you."

"How important is it? Because if it's something small it can wait until after we survive tonight."

Enzo bites his lip and pinches the bridge of his nose. "Unfortunately, it's very important."

"I'm listening," I assure, watching his muscles beneath his shirt move as he heartily rubs his hands together.

"Okay, so here it is: in order to make sure you -"

Obnoxiously, my phone rings. Now, someone's calling. I expect it to be one of the twisted killers on Allister's phone, but when I pick it up, it's Ozzy. "I'm so sorry," I apologize. "But Maren called me freaking out because Oz is MIA, and this is him now. Let me just make sure he's fine then you can tell me, okay?"

Enzo growls and rolls his eyes before turning away. I feel bad, but I know that he's safe because he's right in front of me. Maren is flipping out and needs to be put to rest. "Ozzy, where are you?" I inquire. There's silence. "Oz?"

"Oscar can't get to the phone right now," an automated voice calls before chuckling. Opening my mouth to speak, I'm cut off. "Act calm, you filth! If you signal to your dearest psycho that I'm on the line, you're dead. You'll all be dead. You got that?"

Sighing, I try to calm my nerves to no avail. "Yeah, of course," I cheerily chirp.

 "That's a good girl," they slyly state. "Now go to the theatre room. Alone. Down to the living room and through the door closest to the television. I'll see you there." The phone clicks off

"Enzo, I'm terribly sorry. I really am," I say. "But Ozzy needs something." Getting up to leave, Enzo follows suit. "No, stay. Someone needs to make sure everyone else is alright."

Furrowing his brows, Enzo hesitantly sits back down. "Reyna, are you sure?"

"Positive," I brush off.

He looks like he wants to reach out and touch me; to brush my arm with the side of his hand, or to caress my face, or to grab my hand. But like I said earlier: he's in his own mind, and the walls are restricting him from behaving normally... or as normal as he would have. I want to reach out to him, too, but that's like saying goodbye. There's no time for that.

Exiting the room, I go downstairs. Rather than go to the theatre, I go to my car and snatch the crowbar. It's gotten darker outside somehow, and the music has been shut off inside. But outback, it still plays. The base is as loud as my heart that pounds against my ribcage.

Entering the house, I clutch the crowbar with both of my hands. It doesn't make me feel safer, but I'm scared straight and if someone sneaks up on me, they better be ultra prepared. Finally, I come to the theatre door. There are no lights I can see going on past the door, and there aren't any sounds. A part of me doesn't want to go in, but I have to find out what happened to Ozzy.

Trepid, I twist the handle and open the door.