The docks were quiet save for the haunting echo of boat horns. The boardwalk lights offered little comfort as the dark water lapped against the wood beneath Honey and David's feet. Across the bay, Friday night was in full swing in the city.

Honey walked carefully over wet and frozen patches as she followed David. Snow still fell around them and the gusts of wind became harsher on their faces. Their coats did little, and she felt the cold creeping into her boots. But she couldn't focus on it.

She felt something here. Fear, anger. The same from her dream.

As David walked ahead of her, she slowed and stared at his back; his figure changed, shifted, like a tv screen losing signal. She saw the hem of a long skirt at his heels…a revolver pointed to his back, as if she were holding it.

Was she so connected to this young woman's fate that she saw into the past…without having to establish contact with her?

Tiffany was her best friend, and their connection was strong, unbreakable. But Honey didn't realize the same applied to Tiff's past life.

The shadow glimpse faded as David turned to her, his breath clouding in front of his warm, worried brown eyes.

"It was here."

Honey felt it. Heartbreak, defeat…but something else…

Honey shook her head as she came to his side. "But she didn't die that morning."

David looked out to the slip, snowflakes resting in his brown curls. "No. She wanted to, tried to. Jack and Kid saved her."

David's gaze was careful on her face as she stared at the water.

"She died here, didn't she?" he asked gently. "You saw it, in your dream."

She didn't answer him; she was drawn to the slip.

She walked carefully, slowly, over the water, her foot crunching in snow as she stepped over worn ropes and lines.

She felt a different night, a colder night, fall around her. The snow softened, the wind died. Lights disappeared across the bay as if snuffed out like candles. The sound of car horns stopped, and an eerie quiet took their place. The darkness became indistinguishable as it bled into the water.

Honey turned to David, but David was gone.

Standing in his place, holding a revolver to Honey's face, was Jazzi.


The second to last number ended, and all humor faded from the sound booth as Kiki turned to Racetrack. "Lock the door."

As he rushed across the floor, Seth removed his coat and rolled up his sleeves. He and Kiki began reworking the workstation, presetting it for Tiffany's number while seamlessly running the light and sound for the next dancer as he walked onto the arena floor.

Spot put his hands on the back of his neck and jumped at the voice that came over the comm.

"Jade reporting, sir."

"Excellent," Denton replied. "Good work. Are Sparrow and Tiger in position?"

"In position. Is Cage still with the Wilks?"

"Affirmative."

"Kiki, are we set?"

"Set," Kiki replied as her hands hovered over buttons and knobs. Sweat beaded at her dark hairline. She gave Racetrack a long look as he stood beside her, biting his thumb.

"Sir, we have intel that Cage mentioned a shipment for January, set for LA."

Denton paused. "Is this confirmed?"

Tiffany's voice came over Jade's earpiece, "He said it in front of me two nights ago."

Racetrack and Spot looked at each other.

Denton spoke to the two agents with him, then replied to Jade. "Alright, we'll listen for any changes on the lines - they've been careful with their codes. It's too late to stop what's in motion, but I have a feeling they're about to lose a little business after tonight."

"We still need to catch them in the act," Jade said darkly.

"We will," Denton vowed.

"You were fucking phenomenal," Spot blurted before losing the chance.

Racetrack looked at Spot incredulously before Spot shoved him.

In her voice, Spot could hear Jade beaming. "Thanks, darlin'."

The audience applauded as the dancer bowed on the floor below.

Kiki dimmed the lights after he disappeared behind the curtains. "Here we go."

Racetrack and Spot stood next to each other, their legs bouncing a little in anticipation as Kiki waited.


In through the nose, out through the mouth, in through the nose, out through…

Jade smoothed the black lapels on Tiffany's shoulders. "Ready to piss some people off?"

Tiffany smirked. Her fingers tugged on her shirt cuffs, her shoulders rolled under the suit jacket, her toes wiggled, and she bounced on the balls of her feet, hyping up her body as the MC introduced the final performance.

She felt the stares of the other dancers backstage; some smirked at her, curious as to why she was in a tailored black suit instead of the emerald green dance leotard and skirt she'd done her rehearsal in.

Tiffany felt and welcomed the adrenaline, the thrill. Her muscles hummed, waiting to be unleashed.

"The whole department will talk about it for years," Tyler said in admiration beside her, his hand comforting on the small of her back. "Fuck, the entire University will."

"Sounds like a good trade to me," Jade said deviously. "Either way, you might have to kiss your senior year goodbye."

Tiffany lifted her chin as she began to count the intro measures in her head. "It's nothing compared to what they deserve."

The lights cut off completely in the arena. People cheered. The intro of her song began.

Rhianna's voice filled the arena.

Yayo, yayo

The audience exploded with surprised shouts and screams, recognizing the song.

"Go get 'em," Tyler said as he pushed her forward, like a stone from a slingshot.

Moo-la-lah

Yayo

Jade held her hands together in front of her face, conflicted between outright pride and sheer terror as Tiffany tore through the curtains, a spotlight flashing on her figure as her body transformed. Bass shook the floor.

BITCH BETT'AH HAVE MY MONEY


In her seat in the stands, Jazzi froze in shock - this wasn't the right intro -

Yayo, yayo

Moo-la-lah

Her mind couldn't comprehend what was happening - it wasn't like Kiki to mess up her tracks –

People all around her, students, celebrities, everyone, cheered and screamed like they were suddenly at a fucking concert –

The noise heightened as a dancer tore through the curtains in a black suit, shouting the words with the music as her body stopped at the top of the stage -

BITCH BETT'AH HAVE MY MONEY

Jazzi's mouth gaped, her hands gripped the armrests - to keep her from falling over, to keep her from storming onto the floor -

Tiffany.

Bitch bett'ah have my money

Y'all should know me well enough

Bitch better have my money

Please don't call me on my bluff

Pay me what you owe me

The lights changed, the spotlight following Tiffany as she threw herself into hip-hop moves across the floor, and everyone lost their minds as the lights flashed and strobed in different colors, the music electrifying the entire space.

Pictures appeared on the floor, projected from above, shuffling and sliding on the floor beneath the dancer as she grabbed her crotch and held her hand like a gun –

Jazzi's mind couldn't grasp what was happening, couldn't discern what the photos were - but Cage let out a bark of a laugh from the other side of the Wilks.

She couldn't react.

Shit, your wife in the backseat of my

Brand new foreign car

Don't act like you forgot,

I call the shots, shots, shots

Like blah, brrap, brrap

Pay me what you owe me,

Don't act like you forgot

The pictures - news articles, paparazzi photos, social media posts - were of the Wilks Brothers.

Jazzi felt the blood and color leave her face, her body.

Pictures of them at city functions, on their yacht, at their mansion, their beach house with half-naked women and public figures, throwing lavish outlandish parties with fountains of alcohol.

Tiffany slid to her knees and gyrated over the photos.

BITCH BETT'AH HAVE MY MONEY

People danced in the stands all around them and sang along at the top of their lungs, the arena exploding with energy.

Jazzi tore her blazing eyes from Tiffany to look at the faces around her - school faculty were confused but the dancer held their attention. Celebrities and their teams were nodding and smiling, appreciating. Some were turning in their seats, laughing and smiling to see what the Wilks' reactions were.

She didn't dare to look them.


But Phillip watched with a cool smile, his elbow resting on his chair armrest and his hand at the side of his face. Appearing relaxing, entertained, as he watched Tiffany - Talia - dance across the floor.

Interesting.

Roger laughed darkly beside him. "I'm flattered! You didn't tell me your girl was so clever and creative, Phillip...brave too."

Phillip, with an index finger at his mouth, watched as she turned and pointed her finger gun at him, her face blatant in its defiance.

From two seats over, he sensed Jazzi's bristling fury.

His smile grew, feeling a delicious thrill - caught between violence and passion.

Very interesting.


"Oh my God," Medda breathed, barely audible through the screams and cheers around her and Kat.

The photos - the dancing - she moved so brilliantly and quickly across the floor, even dancing in front of the line of photographers on the floor, close enough for Medda to see her face: aggressive, challenging, bold, her bright eyes were ablaze and alive.

Her movements were strong, avant-garde, singular.

How long had Tiffany been waiting for this moment?

She was taking it with both hands, driving it with her fierce determination.

Medda felt fearful as she watched her dance over the shuffling photos of two wealthy brothers, calling them out in front of everyone.

But through her fear, she felt a surge of pride.

"What is she thinking?" Kat asked, shaking her head. But her lips were lifted slightly in spite of herself, amazed as Medda was.

"Justice," Medda answered, her eyes gleaming as she watched Tiffany's body slow. The music changed...


Across Manhattan, Honey stared at the figure of Jazzi, her body as real and solid as her own.

She was dressed in a long dark wool cloak, a rich red dress wet at the hem underneath. The revolver in her hand shook, but not from the cold.

Her face…her red painted lips trembled as she fought the tears pooling in her blazing brown eyes. Fear and hate raged in them. Her long blonde hair, pinned back, fell down around her face. She was strung out, terrified, and furious.

"You-You are to blame," she said breathlessly. "For everything."

She tightened her grip and steadied the gun. "You ruined him," she hissed.

Honey waited. Jazzi's voice was so familiar it brought chills to the back of her neck and arms, her whole body. She sensed someone stood behind her, but she didn't - couldn't - turn away from Jazzi.

"If it wasn't for you…" She sniffed, fighting to blink away the tears in her eyes. "He—He used to make me dress like her, like you. Like a whore," she sobbed. "He called me 'Talia' and I knew who you were. I've been waiting to find you."

The revolver shook violently.

Her face tightened into a hateful glare, "You ruined me!"

The words pierced Honey's ears. She knew who was behind her.

"He will love me, me…once you are gone," she said at last. She shook her head in disbelief and disgust. "Why would he want you over me? You - you're nothing!" Her scream echoed down the dock and across the dark water.

"And I have nothing to fear," Jazzi said softly, comforting herself. "No one ever notices these things…Men only care about you when you're on your filthy back. No one cares when a common whore is killed."

"End it with me," the woman behind Honey said suddenly. Her voice was deep and calm but laced with a threat. "Leave the others alone."

Honey's brows furrowed at the Russian voice. A familiar tone she hadn't heard before now. She was still afraid to turn around, to see her face.

Jazzi's lips twitched, her eyes steely.

"I don't make deals with whores."

Honey jumped as the gunshot violently filled her senses, the bullet flying through her to embed in Talia behind her.

Jazzi was turning the revolver on herself, sticking in her mouth, when Honey finally turned.

Finally beholding the woman's beautiful face, Honey's eyes widened, and the cold air pierced her throat as she inhaled and screamed.

"HONEY!" David shouted, his voice almost breaking the connection.

Honey reached for her, for Talia, as her body fell slowly backwards, blood soaking through her blouse. Tears fell down Honey's face as she fell to her knees on the dock, still screaming as Talia fell into the water.

Talia's face - Ira's face - was peaceful, even as her icy eyes stared at Honey as she sank to the bottom of the bay.


Jack felt breathless as he watched Tiffany, feeling hot under his clothes.

Forget seeing her dance so strongly, confidently, provocatively, completely abandoned to her body as she recklessly and perfectly tore across the floor; his throat was tight as he watched her dance over the photos of the Wilks brothers. What was she playing at…?

"I got a bad feeling, guys," Boots said fearfully over the comm.

He looked up to the seats, through the bodies dancing and cheering enthusiastically in their seats, and spied them.

The Wilks were smiling, amused.

Cage was smirking behind his hand as he leaned forward, watching her with the utmost attention.

He had to agree with Boots.

"I dunno if I should feel proud or piss my pants," Racetrack said.

Jack looked back at Tiffany; stopped in the middle of the floor she held her chin high, her back and chest heaving as her movements, and the music, slowed.

Bitch better have my - bitch better have my -

Bitch better have my - bitch better have my -

The pictures stopped moving, stopping on a photo of the Wilks brothers smiling with cigars in their mouths as women surrounded them.

The entire building was on fire for her, cheering and shouting.

The photo disappeared as the music changed.

A guitar filled the arena as Tiffany's movements became intentional, her hands wandering up to her suit jacket. She removed it slowly and threw it to the side.

The cheering became surprised, tantalized.

Jack recognized the intro to 'Change' by the Deftones.

Tiffany threw her leg over, twisting her body as she whipped her hair around, dragging her hands down her face, her mouth, before ripping open her button-up shirt.

I watched a change in you

It's like you never had wings

Now, you feel so alive

I've watched you change

She began to strip, painfully slowly, as her body morphed from masculine dominance to feminine release, like she was at the club.

Jack couldn't move, his jaw tightening.

She threw her shirt to the side, the crowd hypnotized by her as her trousers fell off her body. She kicked them off with a fan kick.

Wearing white lingerie that clung to her shapely body, she danced across the floor, throwing her body into 360 spins and splits, leaping into the air.

Jack heard curious and appreciative murmurs from the other dancers backstage, their eyes glued to Tiffany.

Then more pictures appeared.

I took you home

Set you on the glass

I pulled off your wings

Then I laughed

The new photos were of young women; dressed in lingerie, snapped from inside the Black Diamond, the Wilks' mansion, their uptown penthouse. Pictures of missing persons posters.

All cheering stopped.

Jack froze - every eye in the arena was on her and the photos, even the stage and tech hands backstage. They were all thrown completely into shock as she offered her body in supplication.

"Holy fuck," Spot said on the comm.

"Shit," Mush choked.

Tiffany crawled across the floor, her long legs dragging over the photos as they changed - at least twenty different women, their eyes haunting as they stared. Tiffany continued to dance like a stripper over their faces and brought her hands above her head, jerking.

Dark red blood spilled down her uplifted head, down her chin and breasts.

The dancers backstage gasped. "Oh my God -"

Tiffany rubbed it all over herself before she threw herself into a triple 360 and mid-air splits, collapsing on the floor and moving slowly, her expressive face angry and agonized. Her legs rubbed together as the photos changed beneath her from the paparazzi photos of the Wilks to the photos of the missing women.

Even a photo of a body, dumped and found in a dumpster.

Now, you feel alive

You feel alive

You feel alive

I've watched you change

It's like you never had wings

Aah, aah, aah, aah

Aah, aah, aah, aah

Aah, aah

The arena was silent and still as they stared at Tiffany. She turned over, her body covered in fake blood as she prostrated herself over the women's photos.

The song faded out, and the arena was eerily still for a full agonizing five seconds.

Until the arena shattered again.

They clapped and nodded, their faces serious.

It wasn't fun anymore - they couldn't look away from the photos that were still displayed on the floor.

Some even shouted obscenities at the Wilks as they whistled and cheered for Tiffany.


"Honey wait!"

Honey pumped her legs as hard as she could back to where David had parked. The cold stung her eyes, watery with tears and wide with fright.

"Wait! Tell me what you saw –"

"There's no time!" Honey shouted as she slammed into the side of David's car. He slid on ice as he fumbled with his keys, his eyes wide and afraid as he looked at her.

"Honey, what -"

"We have to get to her right now," Honey said frantically, her voice hysterical as she ripped open the passenger door. She met his eyes briefly as he started the engine. "We were all wrong - she's in danger, she's in so much danger –"

David peeled away from the curb and left the borough, thinking of which backways to take to get them to the University as fast as possible.

Completely shaken, Honey was almost relieved to leave the dark docks behind, but she couldn't shake the image of the face in the water, there even when she closed her eyes. The sounds of the gunshots - the one that killed Talia, followed by the one that killed -

"Was it Jazzi?"

She looked at him wildly - her thoughts too scattered.

"How did you -?"

David cursed as he ran into a wall of standstill traffic, horns and music blaring as he stomped on the brakes.

Jarred out of her shock, Honey couldn't wait; she opened the passenger door.

"No, Honey, wait - wait!"

Honey slammed the door behind her as she took off down the sidewalk, people shouting at her as she weaved through them.

Terrified that she was already too late.


The applause around them was deafening in the seats. Tiffany lay motionless on the floor as the lights dimmed and the horrible slideshow of photos and articles disappeared.

Fully and immediately realizing the immense danger Tiffany was now in, Jazzi pushed through her petrifying stupor and moved to rise from her seat.

But Roger's hand clamped down hard on her arm, his nails digging into her skin.

His eyes were furious and deadly, close to her face.

"You're not going anywhere."

It was the first time she'd ever seen his face without amusement.