Chapter 36 Too far gone
The next two hours are a masterclass in dissociation. I’m a ghost in my own skin, moving through the motions...shaking, stirring, straining, while my brain is a mile away. Every time the bass drops, I swear I hear something else. A shout. A thud.
I’m serving a round of overpriced mojitos to a group of bachelorette parties, my hands moving with a practiced grace. All while pretending I’m not replaying that look in Bastian’s eyes on a loop like it’s burned into the inside of my skull. Every now and then, my gaze drifts, against my better judgment, toward the hallway he disappeared into.
Still nothing.
I shake it off, grab another glass, pour, slide, collect cash. Repeat. Muscle memory carrying me through even as my brain refuses to stay where it’s supposed to. I’m tired, more than I should be. The kind that sits behind your eyes and makes everything feel a little slower, a little heavier. I’m reaching for a bottle when Ava nudges my arm.
“Hey,” she mutters, tilting her chin toward the floor.
I follow her gaze, and then I see them. The guy in the leather jacket is back. Only this time, he’s not just restraining white shirt, he’s dragging him. My hand stills mid-motion. The white shirt is... red now. Not entirely soaked. But splattered enough that it catches under the flashing lights
He looks bad.
Like he’s been put through something he didn’t walk out of. Bruised, disoriented, head lolling slightly like his body’s struggling to keep up with the fact that he’s still upright. He looks like roadkill.
Ava swears under her breath. “What the hell did they do to him?”
I don’t answer, I just watch. Leather jacket just keeps moving, hauling him through the crowd like this is routine. People part for them like the Red Sea, faces twisting in a mix of horror and morbid fascination. And then they’re gone, swallowed by the exit.
The music doesn’t stop, the lights don’t change. The night just keeps going like nothing happened. I exhale slowly, turning my head back toward the hallway.
Still no sign of him.
"For someone so sexy," Ava adds, her voice dropping, "that new boss is fucking terrifying." She pauses, then lets out a breathy, cynical laugh. "Then again... maybe that's exactly what this place needs. A shark to clear out the bottom-feeders."
I huff out a quiet breath through my nose and rest my palms against the counter, staring at nothing for a second too long.
Is that who he is?
Someone who just decides how things get handled. Who gets punished and how far it goes? Because he can. Because no one’s going to stop him. A flicker of something uneasy settles low in my chest. And then, because my brain clearly hates me, it follows up with something worse.
‘You’re messing around with him.’
Not hypothetically, not from a distance. Actively. I’ve been pushing him, leaning into his space like I’m untouchable. I drag a hand down my face. Am I getting myself into some deep, irreversible shit? A man who can do that to a stranger...
My skin crawls, but it’s not just fear. It’s that same, sick, euphoric rush. I'm terrified, yeah. But I’m also wondering what it would feel like to be the only thing in the world that a man like that can't break.
There’s a pocket of time in the night where things loosen. Not quiet, this place doesn’t do quiet, but the pressure eases. The bar isn’t three orders deep, the music settles into something less aggressive, and for a few minutes, I’m not being pulled in five directions at once.
Which, apparently, is when my brain decides to become a problem. My gaze drifts again, like I don’t have better things to look at.
The hallway.
It’s half-shadowed from here, the entrance just visible past the edge of the bar. I can’t see much beyond it, just a stretch of dim light and the suggestion of movement that might not even be real. But I know he’s still back there. The only exit down that corridor leads to a walled back alley, the one that’s been locked off for months now after Tony finally got tired of customers treating it like some after-hours free-for-all. Apparently, the sight of three different couples treating the brickwork like a makeshift brothel was the final blow to his managerial dignity. Now, it’s a locked-down dead end.
So no, he didn’t leave. Which means he’s still here. Somewhere I can’t see. I drag a hand through my hair. This is ridiculous. Objectively, I have no reason to care. It doesn’t concern me. It shouldn’t concern me.
And yet, there's that pull. Quiet, persistent, and getting harder to ignore.
In the back of my mind, a very sane, very quiet voice is screaming at me to stay behind the bar. But the rest of me is vibrating with a morbid, relentless curiosity. Maybe it’s the exhaustion thinning my blood, or maybe I just have a localized death wish.
I pour a double shot of vodka into a chilled glass, and knock it back in one burning swallow. I need to numb my nerves. I then lean over to Ava, who’s currently laughing at some regular’s terrible joke. "I’ll be right back," I mutter. She doesn't even look up, just flashes a distracted thumbs-up.
I step away from the bar and start walking. Five steps in, I hit a wall of absolute, terrifying clarity.
‘You're being a Tier-1 idiot,’ I tell myself. ‘Turn around. Go back to the safety of the tips and the small talk.’
I could pretend this didn’t cross my mind. But my body doesn’t seem particularly interested in my better judgment tonight. Because the next thing I know, I’m moving again.
There's a couple of doors down here. One of them is Tony’s office. And for some reason, I’m convinced that’s where he is. I make my way over, slower now, like my body’s finally catching up to the fact that this might not be the smartest decision I’ve made tonight. Or ever.
I stop just outside the door, and then I just stand there. For a second. For five. For long enough that it starts to feel ridiculous.
What exactly is the plan here? Knock? Walk in? Pretend I took a wrong turn on my way to literally anywhere else? My heart’s beating a little too fast. I pause, my hand hovering over the cold brass handle. I’m waiting for the universe to give me a sign...a lightning bolt, a sudden case of vertigo, anything to send me back to the bar.
I turn the handle instead and push the door open a crack. I expect to see him there, silhouetted against the desk lamp, maybe nursing a scotch. Maybe even looking at me like he knew I’d come.
But, there's nothing.
I frown slightly, pushing the door open a bit wider and stepping just enough to glance inside properly. My eyes dart across the shadows and my gaze lands on the leather chair. Draped over the backrest, with a precision that’s almost haunting, is his suit jacket. His silk tie is slung over. I recognize them instantly. And the faint scent of his cologne that seems to have colonized the entire room.
I swallow hard, the lump in my throat feeling like a stone. I back out, clicking the door shut. My pulse is a roar in my ears now. My focus shifts to the heavy steel door at the very end of the hallway. The one that leads to the alleyway Tony turned into a restricted zone. I hesitate for a second, wondering if maybe I missed something. If maybe he actually did slip out without me noticing.
But no. Not possible.
I’ve been watching that hallway like it owes me answers. There’s no way he walked past without me seeing. Which means he's probably out there.
I’m too far gone for logic. The curiosity is a physical ache now. I start walking. Each step slower than the last, like maybe hesitation will catch up and drag me back if I give it enough time.