Chapter 67 Chapter 67
⛧⛧⛧⛧⛧ Elena ⛧⛧⛧⛧⛧
The club's thumping bass vibrated through the floorboards, but it did nothing to drown out the knot twisting in my gut. Fifteen fucking minutes. Adrianna had slipped into that bathroom stall like she owned the place, her curvy ass swaying under that tight skirt, promising she would be right back after whatever quick bond-check she needed with Apollo. But now? Shift ended five minutes ago, and the sticky vinyl booth felt empty without her seductive heat pressed against me, her fingers teasing my thong until my pussy throbbed. I shifted on my feet outside the bathroom door, dark hair sticking to my neck from the sweat, my slim body tense under the cropped top that barely contained my tits. Where the hell was she? Sick? Needed a breather from the public teasing we had been dishing out all night, lips locked, tongues sloppy for those leering patrons and their fat tips? My mind raced to dirtier thoughts—maybe she had locked herself in there, skirt hiked, fingers buried in her wet cunt, riding the high of whatever filthy vision she was tapping into with Apollo and Levi.
I bit my lip, nipples hardening at the idea, my hand drifting to press against the damp spot on my shorts. Fuck, I loved watching her like that, bold and cunning, dominating the room even when she was alone. But the anxiety clawed deeper now, a cold sweat breaking out. Our soulmate bond tugged faint, like a whisper, but nothing clear.
“Levi,” I shot telepathically, voice sharp in my head as I paced the dim hallway, heels clicking. “You and Apollo can head over whenever you are done. We are off now.”
His response hit back quick, that cocky edge laced with post-fuck rasp.
“Just wrapping up here. Be there in five minutes.”
“Good. I will probably be in the bathroom when you arrive—Adrianna's sick or something. She has been in there forever.”
My fingers drummed the door, heart picking up speed.
“What? What do you mean?”
I swallowed hard, glancing around the emptying club, shadows of grinding bodies fading as last call echoed.
“She has been locked in that stall for fifteen minutes straight. Not coming out. Something is off.”
The words hung in my mind, unease spiking my pulse. If she was fingering herself to thoughts of Apollo's thick cock slamming Levi's swollen ass, she would have moaned through the bond by now, sharing the rush. Instead, silence. My playful teasing from earlier soured into worry, tits heaving with each shallow breath.
Pushing the door open, the fluorescent lights buzzed harsh, assaulting my eyes after the club's haze. The air stank of stale piss and cheap cleaner, but that was not what hit me—the mirror above the sinks was cracked, spiderwebbed like someone had punched it with raw knuckles, shards glinting under the light. Blood streaks smeared across the glass, dark and fresh, probably from the fucker's busted hand. My stomach dropped, pussy clenching in sudden fear, not the hot kind from rough play.
“Adrianna?” I called out, voice echoing off the tiles, sharp and demanding. No answer. Just the drip of a faucet somewhere, mocking me.
Heart slamming like a drum, I shoved into the first stall, door banging wide—empty, toilet seat up, no brown curls spilling over.
“Adrianna! Where the fuck are you?” Louder now, my slim frame trembling as I yanked open the next door, then the next, heels scraping the grimy floor.
Stalls blurred, all vacant, the eerie quiet pressing in like a vice. No seductive laugh, no moan of pleasure, nothing. The blood on the mirror gleamed wet, and my mind flashed to worst-case shit—some drunk asshole cornering her, ripping her skirt, forcing his cock down her throat while she fought. Or worse, dragging her out back for a gang bang she did not want, her curvy body bruised and used.
Rage boiled hot, mixing with the fear, my thong soaking not from lust but adrenaline. I would not let anyone touch her like that—our bond was new, deep, her peaceful charm pulling me in even as she dominated my holes.
“Levi!” I screamed telepathically, the mental shout ripping through our connection like a blade, urgent and raw. “Grab Apollo NOW! Get your asses here—Adrianna's gone! The bathroom is empty, mirror's smashed, blood everywhere. Someone took her, I fucking know it!” My voice cracked in my head, fists clenching, nails digging into palms until they stung.
Levi's response flooded back, panic edging his cocky tone.
“What the fuck? On our way—hold tight, Elena. Do not move.” But I was already moving, bursting back into the hallway, eyes scanning the club's dim corners for any sign of her chestnut hair, her confident strut.
Patrons milled, oblivious, cocks still half-hard from the night's shows, but my focus narrowed to defense mode—ready to claw eyes out, knee balls, fight dirty for her. My body thrummed, tits bouncing as I shoved through the crowd, heart racing wild, every nerve screaming to protect what was mine. If those bastards had roughed her up, violated her, I would make them pay—rip their dicks off, watch them bleed while Apollo and Levi arrived to finish the job. The bond pulsed faintly, a lifeline, but no response from her end. Fuck, Adrianna, hold on. I am coming for you, and we will tear this place apart.
The door to the back alley loomed, and I hesitated, breath ragged, pussy aching with the twisted mix of fear and that dark, urgent need to dominate whatever threat came. Public sex, rough play—that was our game, but this? This was war, and I would fuck up anyone who touched her without permission. My hand gripped the knob, twisting slow, stepping into the night air thick with smoke and distant moans from some alley hookup. Shadows shifted, and I braced, ready to unleash hell.