Chapter 32: Fright

It was almost dark when I finally pulled up outside that place again—the same damn club that always smelled like smoke and danger and bad decisions. The neon lights painted the pavement in sickly colors, and I sat in the car for a while just staring at them, trying to convince myself I wasn’t being insane for showing up here.

Lori’s message was still open on my phone: Location confirmed. Signal matches Kevin’s device.

The words burned themselves into my head.

The club.

Of all places, here?

The club’s bass thudded through the car windows like a pulse I couldn’t escape. I shoved my phone into my purse, took one last steadying breath, and stepped out. The air was thick, humid, reeking of spilled alcohol and too many people trying to forget themselves.

Inside, the world turned into sound—heavy music, laughter that felt hollow, bodies pressed too close. I had to squeeze through them, brushing against strangers slick with sweat and perfume that clawed at my lungs. My heartbeat struggled to match the rhythm of the music, too fast, uneven, like I’d swallowed panic whole.

The first thing I saw was him.

Kevin.

He was sitting at the bar, his head slightly bowed, his shoulders tense in that familiar way that used to make me ache for him. He wasn’t laughing, wasn’t talking to anyone—just tossing back one drink after another as if he was trying to burn something out of his chest. For a second, I froze. I actually forgot how to breathe.

Every part of me wanted to run up to him, to grab him by the collar and demand why he’d vanished, why he’d shut me out. But then the anger came. It rose slowly, crawling up from my gut until it sat sharp and alive under my skin. He’d been here the whole time. While I was losing sleep, replaying Nina’s words, wondering if he was alive or dead, he was drinking his conscience away in this same miserable place.

My fists clenched before I even realized it. I could feel the nails biting into my palms, the faint tremor in my jaw as I tried not to explode right there in the middle of the crowd. He looked almost unrecognizable under the harsh club lights—his hair disheveled, eyes half-hidden in shadow, shirt slightly undone. But I would have known him anywhere. The curve of his shoulders. The way he rubbed his jaw when something weighed on his mind.

Then he moved.

He got up abruptly, downed what was left of his drink, and followed two men into a dim hallway at the back.

My stomach twisted.

Something about the way those men carried themselves screamed that this wasn’t casual. They weren’t here to drink or laugh. Their steps were too synchronized, their expressions too still. I’d seen enough of my father’s corporate security meetings to recognize when something secret was about to happen.

I told myself to walk away—to stop before I crossed a line I couldn’t uncross—but curiosity had always been my worst addiction. It clawed through every warning in my head. Before I could stop myself, I was pushing past the crowd, following quietly, the pounding of the bass behind me fading into a muffled heartbeat.

The hallway swallowed me in half-darkness. The smell of whiskey mixed with damp concrete and something metallic—something that reminded me faintly of danger. My heels clicked against the floor, too loud, so I slipped them off and carried them in my hand, moving slower now. The dim light at the end of the hallway flickered every few seconds, enough to give me brief glimpses of Kevin’s back as he disappeared behind a heavy black door.

My chest felt too tight. My hands were clammy. I could taste the bitterness of adrenaline on my tongue.

What the hell was he doing here? Who were those men?

Each question tangled with the next until my head was a knot of noise and suspicion. Part of me wanted to believe this had something to do with Nina—maybe proof that she’d roped him into something against his will. But another part whispered something uglier: what if he was working with her willingly? What if all the warmth, the closeness, the quiet nights where his presence felt like safety—what if all of it was manipulation?

I swallowed hard and forced myself to keep moving. The closer I got to the door, the louder the low murmurs became—male voices, steady but sharp, discussing something I couldn’t quite make out. I pressed my palm against the wall, leaning closer, the faint thump of the bass from outside vibrating through my fingertips.

Every instinct told me I shouldn’t be there. That if Kevin saw me now, he’d either hate me or finally tell me the truth I wasn’t ready to hear. But my fear wasn’t enough to stop me. Because I needed to know.

My whole life had been built on trusting people who hid knives behind their smiles. I couldn’t let Kevin become another one of them.

I took one quiet step closer. The metal door in front of me was slightly ajar, a thin slice of light spilling through. I could see movement—shadows shifting. Kevin’s voice came faintly through the noise, low and tense, saying something that made one of the men laugh.

I pressed my back against the wall, breathing shallowly, every nerve in me alive.

Then something inside me snapped.

All the fear, the hesitation, the whispering voice in my head that kept saying “don’t go further”—I crushed it under my heel.

What was I even doing, sneaking around like some terrified child? I wasn’t weak, and I wasn’t about to keep tiptoeing around the truth.

The tension in my chest burned into anger—hot, reckless, pulsing through my veins like fire. I took a deep breath, squared my shoulders, and shoved the door open.

The sound was deafening in my ears—metal hitting the wall, a dull echo against the concrete room. I expected noise, voices, movement… but there was nothing.

Empty.

The room was empty.

A single table sat at the center, covered in half-empty glasses, a scattered deck of cards, and cigarette butts that still smoked faintly. The air smelled thick, stale—like sweat, liquor, and something faintly chemical. I glanced around quickly, scanning every shadowed corner, every inch of the dimly lit space.

“Kevin?” My voice cracked a little, weaker than I wanted it to sound.

No answer.

My heartbeat filled the silence, each thud echoing in my throat. I took a few cautious steps forward, my heels clicking against the concrete, my eyes darting between the walls and the door at the far end. Maybe they’d gone through there. Maybe they were still close. Maybe—

And then it happened.

A sharp metallic sound cut through the air—click.

My entire body froze.

It was the unmistakable sound of a gun’s hammer being drawn back.

I didn’t have time to think. Every instinct screamed danger, and before I could turn, a voice came from behind me—low, rough, steady enough to make the hair on my neck stand on end.

“Don’t move.”

The word hit me like a physical blow.

My heart slammed against my ribs, so hard I swore the sound of it filled the room. My throat tightened, dry, my palms slick with sweat. I didn’t dare breathe too loud, didn’t dare twitch a muscle.

“Drop the bag,” the voice said again, closer this time.

I could hear footsteps behind me—slow, deliberate, heavy boots against the floor. Whoever it was, they weren’t bluffing.

For a second, I thought about running. Just bolting for the door, hoping adrenaline could outrun a bullet. But fear anchored me in place, stronger than any chain. I could almost feel the gun aimed at me, the weight of it pressing between my shoulder blades, cold and real.

I let my bag slip from my hand, and it hit the ground with a dull thud. My mind raced. I could barely think through the pounding in my ears.

This can’t be happening…

I swallowed hard, forcing air into my lungs, trying to find my voice. “I— I didn’t mean to come in here. I was just looking for someone.”

The silence that followed was unbearable. Then, the man behind me let out a low chuckle, the kind that wasn’t amused at all.

“You picked the wrong room to be curious about. Now turn around. ”

My stomach twisted. His tone was rough, accented, and filled with something sharp—authority, maybe, or warning.

“I said, turn around,” he added.

My legs didn’t want to obey.