Master of his heart (Max and Brielle)

Since they had plans to head out later, Max didn't bother with an elaborate dinner-just enough to whet his appetite. Once they were ready, they set off for the much-anticipated masquerade ball. As they drove, Max gazed out at the city lights flashing by, his fingers tapping a rhythm on the car window. A faint, indifferent smile played on his lips.

"The masquerade was Dustin's idea," Max remarked casually. "It's always a wild time. When we get to the entrance, a waiter will hand you a mask. And there's a rule-no sticking with people you already know. Dustin thinks it's pointless to hang out with familiar faces at these things."

That was the line Dustin had fed to the media in an interview.

And true to form, under the cover of their masks, the so-called elite would let loose, shedding their inhibitions. With the Lynch family keeping an eye on things, it never got too out of hand.

"The masks are random, and you'll have to lock up your phone in a secure locker when you get in. If you're not feeling it, we can skip the whole thing," Max offered.

But Brielle had her reasons for going.

She lowered her lashes and looked at Max. "Let's go."

Max didn't respond. He never questioned her choices; his role was to support whatever she decided.

After handing over their phones, Max pulled her aside into a quiet lounge before they parted ways.

"Don't overdo it," he cautioned, as if he knew what she was planning, though he never pried into the details. And there were things she preferred to keep to herself.

They split up.

Brielle was led to a different

entrance, where a waiter handed her a cat-ear mask. It covered most of her face, making recognition nearly impossible unless someone knew her very well.

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Her eyes scanned the crowd, searching for a particular face, but he was nowhere to be seen. She casually held a glass of champagne and stepped into the throng. Mingling behind masks, the guests were like shadows against the city lights outside a romantic soirée teetering on the edge of a cliff, charged with an alluring energy.

The space was huge, lavishly

divided, with over two thousand square feet of decadence.

Conversations flowed freely, secret trysts unfolded in hidden corners, and bold kisses were exchanged in plain sight.

Maybe they all had significant others, but at this party, all pretenses were dropped.

Brielle's expression remained neutral, thinking that if Dustin were here, the energy would be even more electric. He was notorious as a playboy.

After making a circuit, Brielle headed towards the famed starlit terrace, known for its view of the night sky through a glass dome. Few came to truly appreciate the scenery; most sought the thrill, which left the terrace empty tonight.

She set her drink on a table and looked up at the sky, only to hear footsteps behind her.

Meanwhile, Max sat by a window, sinking into the plush sofa with a drink before him. But the beverage held no appeal; instead, he closed his eyes.

Pain throbbed in his head with more intensity here than back home. Since his last injury, the pain came in sharp bursts, like needles pricking his brain.

A voice broke the silence from behind. "Someone's gone to find her. Aren't you the least bit worried?"

Max remained silent, his eyelashes fluttering slightly as if he was on the verge of sleep.