Cindy’s house was obnoxiously large, a white-columned estate sitting behind an iron gate that probably cost more than Red’s entire apartment building.

  Red leaned against the kitchen island, idly stirring the ice in her untouched drink while Cindy excitedly flipped through design sketches for the Happily Ever After Ball.

  “Okay, so imagine this,” Cindy said, dramatically spreading the papers across the counter. “Golden chandeliers, silk tablecloths, a twelve-piece orchestra—”

  Red hummed noncommittally, already zoning out.

  Cindy pouted. “You’re not even listening.”

  “I am,” Red said. “There were… tables. And music. And, uh, lights.”

  Cindy rolled her eyes. “You are the worst.”

  Red smirked. “You say that every year.”

  “And yet, every year, you still show up.” Cindy leaned forward with a mischievous glint in her eye. “Which is why I had this made for you.”

  She reached behind the couch and pulled out a stunning red dress—deep crimson, flowing fabric, classic but with an edge that screamed confidence.

  Red blinked. She had expected some frilly, over-the-top Cinderella nightmare, but… this?

  It was gorgeous.

  “I know you hate dressing up,” Cindy said, watching her reaction closely. “But come on. You’d look amazing in this.”

  Red hesitated.

  Then, with an exaggerated sigh, she snatched the dress from Cindy’s hands. “Fine. But if I look ridiculous, I’m blaming you.”

  Cindy beamed. “You’ll thank me.”

  Red stepped in front of the mirror, smoothing the dress over her hips.

  For a moment, she didn’t recognize herself.

  The deep red fabric framed her body perfectly, catching the light just right. It wasn’t just flattering—it made her feel powerful.

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  She twirled once, just to see the way it moved, the hem flaring around her ankles.

  Cindy gasped, hands clasped together in delight. “Oh my God, you are wearing that dress to the ball.”

  Red let out a rare laugh, still admiring the way she looked. She barely ever stopped to think about herself like this. She was always working, always chasing something.

  But right now?

  She looked damn good.

  Then her phone buzzed.

  She glanced at the screen.

  CRIME ALERT: BODY FOUND – PUBLIC LOCATION

  Her stomach dropped.

  The world snapped back into focus, the weight of the case crashing over her.

  She turned away from the mirror, already unzipping the dress. “I have to go.”

  Cindy frowned. “Seriously? Now?”

  “Another body just turned up.”

  Cindy’s frustration flickered into concern. “Red—”

  “I’ll be fine.” Red was already pulling on her boots. “I’ll call you later.”

  Before Cindy could protest, she was out the door.

  The Crime Scene – A Message in Blood

  By the time Red arrived at the scene, the area was already swarming with cops.

  A crowd had gathered. This wasn’t like the last one. This was public—intentional.

  She ducked under the tape, scanning the perimeter when—

  “Excuse me, ma’am.”

  She turned to see Peter Pan, standing rigid, his uniform still too crisp to have seen much action.

  “Ma’am?” Red echoed, raising a brow.

  Peter hesitated. “Miss?”

  Red sighed. “Seriously, kid, I’m not an old lady.”

  Peter straightened his posture. “You can’t be here. This is an active crime scene.”

  She opened her mouth to argue, but before she could—

  “She’s fine.”

  Jacob.

  Peter turned, blinking in surprise as Detective Hunter approached.

  Jacob didn’t even glance at Peter as he gestured for Red to follow. “Come on.”

  Peter hesitated, then, after a moment of internal debate, followed after them.

  The scene was worse than Red had expected.

  A man lay sprawled on the pavement, throat slashed, arms outstretched like he’d been posed. But what made her blood run cold was what was painted beside him.

  A bloody paw print—made from the victim’s own blood.

  Jacob’s jaw clenched. “Well. If that’s not a message, I don’t know what is.”

  Peter made a noise in the back of his throat—his first real reaction.

  Red glanced at him. He was holding himself together, standing stiff, but his fingers were curled into a tight fist.

  She narrowed her eyes. “This your first dead body?”

  Peter didn’t look at her. “No.”

  Beat.

  “…Yeah.”

  Red studied him for a moment, then said, “Mine was my father.”

  Peter blinked, finally turning to her.

  Red didn’t look away from the body. “I was six. Saw him before the cops did.”

  Peter’s throat bobbed.

  After a long pause, Red sighed.

  “Unfortunately, it gets easier.”

  Peter didn’t say anything.

  Jacob cleared his throat, pulling them both back to reality. “Let’s move.”

  They stepped forward.

  The Wolf had declared his hunting ground.

  And Red was ready to hunt him right back.