Sophia’s shift began without any surprises. It was a typical night at the bar, filled with the usual stream of laughter, music, and clinking glasses. She moved with practiced ease, taking orders, making drinks, and catching up with regulars who greeted her with familiar smiles. Despite the lively atmosphere, a strange unease lingered in the back of her mind, like a shadow she couldn’t shake.
Halfway through her shift, Jacie dropped in, her bright smile lighting up the dimly lit bar as she slid onto a stool. Sophia immediately felt a bit of the tension ease.
“Hey, girl!” Jacie called, her voice nearly drowned out by the buzz around them. “Looks like you’re surviving another night.”
Sophia chuckled. “Barely! It’s one of those nights.”
Jacie grinned, leaning over the bar. “Well, I’m here for moral support. And maybe a few drinks,” she joked.
As Sophia poured Jacie a drink, she couldn’t help but feel grateful for her friend’s presence. Chatting with Jacie helped her push aside the strange, nagging feeling, if only for a moment. They shared stories and laughs, making the time fly by faster than usual.
But even with Jacie there, Sophia couldn’t ignore the subtle undercurrent of tension in the bar. Luke had been in and out of his office all night, rarely making an appearance behind the bar as he usually did. She’d caught glimpses of him pacing on the phone, his face set in an expression that could only be described as troubled.
“What’s up with Luke?” Jacie asked, following Sophia’s gaze.
Sophia shrugged. “No idea. He’s been acting strange all night. Constantly on his phone. Guess he’s dealing with something stressful.”
Jacie took a sip of her drink, raising an eyebrow. “He’s not usually this intense, is he?”
Sophia shook her head. “Not really. But I try not to get too involved. He’s a good boss, so I give him his space.”
Jacie laughed. “Probably for the best. Maybe he’s got some drama of his own going on.”
Sophia chuckled, but her mind drifted back to Ethan, wondering if he’d been acting this way for the same reason. The tension she’d felt from him this morning, the guarded look in his eyes—she had felt something simmering under the surface, something he hadn’t shared with her. She knew he’d come to pick her up later, and maybe then she’d have a chance to ask him what was on his mind.
As Jacie finished her drink, she glanced at the time. “I should head out. It’s getting late, and I’ve got an early class tomorrow.”
“Thanks for stopping by,” Sophia said, giving her friend a quick hug over the bar. “You made this night a little more bearable.”
Jacie smiled. “Anytime. And hey, try not to let Luke’s weird vibes rub off on you. You’re doing great.”
With a final wave, Jacie slipped out the door, leaving Sophia alone with her thoughts again. The bar grew busier for a while, and Sophia threw herself into her work, hoping the bustle would chase away her growing unease. But with each passing hour, she couldn’t ignore the feeling that something was off.
As closing time approached, Luke finally reappeared. He looked tense, and his face was shadowed with worry. He lingered near the bar for a moment, watching Sophia work as though trying to decide something. She noticed his gaze and offered a small smile, hoping to break the tension.
“Everything okay, Luke?” she asked.
He blinked, as if coming back to himself. “Yeah, everything’s fine. Just… a lot on my plate tonight.”
Sophia nodded, sensing he didn’t want to talk about it. She busied herself with cleaning up, waiting for the last few customers to leave.
Finally, Luke approached her again, his voice low and strained. “Hey, Sophia, could you take the trash out before you go? Then you’re good to call it a night.”
“Sure,” she replied, grabbing the bag from behind the bar. The request didn’t strike her as strange; it was part of the usual closing routine. But as she made her way to the back alley, a prickling sense of dread crawled up her spine. She shook it off, chalking it up to an exhausting shift and the weird atmosphere that had lingered all night.
The alley was quiet, a stark contrast to the noise of the bar. She took a deep breath, savoring the cool night air as she made her way to the bins. But just as she lifted the lid, a faint scent hit her—a sickly-sweet smell that made her vision blur and her legs weaken. She barely had time to react before something cold and damp pressed against her mouth and nose.
Her mind spun as she tried to fight against the heavy lethargy spreading through her. Panic surged, and she tried to scream, but the sound was muffled, swallowed by the thick fabric. Her vision swam, the shadows of the alley growing darker, closing in on her.
As her strength faded, she dimly registered the sensation of being lifted, strong arms carrying her away from the bar. A wave of terror washed over her, but her body felt too heavy to resist. Her mind fought to hold on, to stay alert, but the darkness closed in, swallowing her whole.
In her last fleeting moments of consciousness, she clung to the hope that Ethan would find her. She tried to reach out, to scream for him, but her voice was gone, swallowed by the haze as she drifted into oblivion.
And the last thing she remembered was the unsettling realization that the arms carrying her didn’t belong to Ethan.