Belle needed to steal her crown. She pulled her little master tool from her pocket, the one with tiny scissors and a tiny screwdriver tucked inside. Edwin had given it to her when she’d started high school. He’d encouraged her to bring it to class, even though she could’ve been expelled if anyone found out. He’d taught her that each of those tools could be a weapon, and if she had to hurt someone in order to get away from them, well, the ends justified the means.

Belle shivered as she flipped out the screwdriver. For a very long time, she’d believed the world was split into two kinds of girls: fighters and victims. Brutal, vicious witches and delicate damsels. There was no in-between. But as she guided the screws out of the vent covering, she felt a sharp, visceral pain at the choice she’d been given.

Assault or be assaulted.

Kill or be killed.

There had to be another way. There had to be another choice, Belle thought, lifting the grate from the floor. Then she was lying on the ground, sliding her arm into the vent. Her fingers met with dirt and dust bunnies. There was no evidence here. No hidden secret. No proof.

She pulled her arm out of the darkness, frowning at the layer of filth coating her skin. In her pocket, her phone was chiming, warning her that Edwin would be heading back from his engagement soon. And out in the driveway, she heard a car pulling up.

She needed to run.

Still, she hesitated. If she left now, both Raven and Lily would be at the mercy of Evelyn’s cruelty. She had to find something. She had to try. And so, in spite of the dread unfolding in her stomach, she lay back on the hardwood floor, lowering her phone into the vent.

Light cut through the darkness.

She saw the things she’d felt before: grime and dirt and dust. A long, narrow channel, which would eventually lead to Raven’s bedroom. But there in the distance, farther than her fingers had been able to reach, she saw a little rectangle, coated in gray and nearly hidden in the dark. It could’ve been a piece of garbage that had fallen into the vent years ago.

Or it could be the answer to all her questions.

Belle pushed to her feet, her eyes scanning the space. Through the crack in Evelyn’s closet, she could see a hint of white, cascading fabric. She darted across the room. It took a couple of seconds to hurl open the closet doors, and a couple more to yank a white satin dress from its hanger. The dress billowed to the floor as the front door opened.