TWELVE

I pushed past people, my vision blurred from the hot tears streaming down my face. The laughter, the stares, the hollers—it all felt suffocating, echoing in my mind. The red-and-blue club lights were now disorienting flashes, amplifying the mortification and shame twisting inside me. The restroom door came into view, and I darted toward it, desperate for an escape from the crowd and the humiliation clinging to me.

Clarissa’s voice cut through the noise as she chased after me. "Madeleine, wait! Don’t make this such a big deal!" Her tone was frustrated, almost dismissive, but I kept moving, determined not to let her see me break.

Behind me, I caught Drey’s mocking voice, adding fuel to the fire. “Didn’t know your cousin was such a lame ass!”

A pang of anger flared through my chest. But before I could process it, I heard Clarissa whip around, her tone sharp with unexpected anger. “You don’t get to say a word!”

Silence fell, a hush sweeping over the room as Clarissa’s voice rang out. I could feel everyone’s eyes on us, their curiosity and judgement pressing down on me like a weight. Drey’s voice came next, low and defensive, muttering as if he hadn’t just sparked this whole scene. “I was just trying to dance.”

A bitter laugh slipped from me as I shoved through the restroom door, finally alone.

The music outside pulsed louder, picking up where it had left off, and the hollers and cheers melded into the beat, carrying on without a pause for the scene that had just unfolded. I bolted the restroom door behind me, pressing my back against it as my chest heaved, breaths coming out shaky and uneven. My gut twisted as the realisation of what had just happened crashed over me, a mix of shame and fury clawing at my insides.

Clarissa’s pounding on the door rattled through my body, her voice faint but insistent, barely reaching me over the muffled beat outside. "Are you for real? You couldn’t have been less embarrassing? He was just trying to dance."

A bitter scoff escaped my lips as I bit down hard on my lower lip, stifling the urge to scream. Her apology sounded more like a reprimand, a thinly veiled accusation. I could feel my pulse in my temples, each beat drumming against the sense of betrayal and hurt tightening around me like a vise.

And then, his name surfaced in my mind, flooding my thoughts until it was all I could hear.

Dane.

The one person who, despite everything, I couldn’t fully forget. My therapist had labelled it a "traumatic bond"—a twisted connection formed out of the worst parts of our relationship. I hadn’t accepted that explanation, though. Even with everything he had put me through, there was a part of me that still craved him, missed him.

Drey was like a mirror image of Dane.

Same arrogance, same uninvited confidence. Different person, different version, but the core was the same.

The lingering scent of his cologne hit me, that familiar fragrance, like an unshakeable ghost from my past. It clung to my clothes, filling the tiny restroom and assaulting my senses. The sharp notes of it made my eyes sting, and my gut twisted violently. My skin crawled, yet in some strange way, there was an undeniable pull, a reaction deep within me that made my core hum with discomfort and desire all at once.

It was in that moment, locked in that suffocating space, that the realisation crashed down on me like a wave.

I wasn’t angry at Drey. Not really. He had come onto me, yes, but somehow, that felt almost secondary to the fact that I was the one being torn apart by it. The real anger—the disgust—was at myself.

If Clarissa hadn’t been there, I would have given in. It was all so clear now. The pull, the way I had wanted to melt into him. The thought of it made my stomach twist even further, and a flush of shame bloomed across my skin. The anger that burned inside me wasn’t at him. It was at me for letting it happen, for wanting it to happen. How easily I could’ve slipped into that mess, how easily I could’ve chosen and fucked him—just like I had chosen Dane.

I hated myself for it.

Clarissa pushed at the door once again, reminding me that she was still there. “Come on, Maddy!”

“I’m fine…” I muttered at first, more to myself and failed to believe. I wanted Dane. Or preferably, someone to get my mind off him today. I cleared my throat and raised my voice. “I’m fine! I overreacted, I’m sorry. I haven’t been feeling like myself….I—” I cut my sentence off. There was no way, I was going to let Clarissa know I wanted to fuck her boyfriend. “I’ll be out in a while. I just need to be alone for now.”

She took the hint. “Okay. You know where to find me?”

“Yes!”

With Dane—I shook my head—Drey, entangled in his arms. Kissing those lips.

Clarissa gave one last hesitant knock. “Okay. Just… don’t stay in there too long. We’re here if you need anything.” Her voice softened before she finally moved away, her footsteps fading back into the pounding bass of the club.

I met my reflection in the mirror, the sight almost daring me to acknowledge what I felt inside. Tonight, I looked exactly like I felt—a whore, on edge, my lips slightly parted, my chest rising and falling in shallow breaths. My nipples pressed against the thin fabric of my bra, hardening with every jagged inhale. An ache pulsed low in my belly, and it was maddening, intoxicating.

Dane knew how to treat a little whore like me.

His little whore.

Heat flooded my body, and even though my head spun, the urge was undeniable. I felt myself grow weak with the idea of slipping down onto the cool tile floor and easing the tension with my own fingers, to release the need to coil in my core.

A flash of clarity cut through the haze—was my drink laced? The thought barely registered as I watched myself, flushed and quivering, my eyes wild. My skin felt feverish, every nerve on edge, almost begging for something, anything, to soothe the ache. My fingers tightened around the sink’s edge, and I tried to steady myself, tried to breathe.

I gripped the edge of the sink, forcing myself to take a deep breath. "Get it together, Madeleine," I whispered. But my voice was barely a whisper over the chaos inside me.

My mind drifted back to the night with Dane—the fights, the intensity, the jealousy, the way he’d look at me with that same hunger Drey had just shown. I hated that part of me missed it, missed him. Missed that intoxicating thrill of being wanted, even if it meant flirting with the devil itself.

Finally, I splashed cold water on my face, letting the chill snap me back to reality. This wasn’t me. I didn’t need to be tethered to anyone, least of all to someone like Dane or Drey.

I straightened my jacket and smoothened the wet loose strands of my dark brown hair off my forehead before gathering it into a ponytail. I approached the door stealthily, my breath shaky as I unbolted the door and twisted the knob, bracing myself for the looks and glares I’d be getting once I’m inside the party.

I inhaled. Exhaled sharply, and then twisted the knob. I bursted out of the bathroom and bumped right into a body, which gave a grunt as a response to the discomfort.

I staggered back impulsively, my vision warping.

The man was standing right in front of the door, blocking my view of the party, strong, muscular toned arms folded atop his chest, shoulders flexing in a cotton shirt.

I gulped as I ogled his body, freezing in place. The toned arms, the way his veins ran all the way up to his fingers. The way the shirt hugged his toned muscular biceps. His shoulders flexed.

He just stood there.

As if he had been waiting for me to emerge from the bathroom.

One second passed.

And then two.

And then three.

We both said nothing, and I had been too busy gawking at his body to even look up to his face. And then I caught myself and began stuttering an apology. “Oh my God! I’m sorry, I really am. Clumsy me, I wasn’t watching where I was headed. I’ve got this terrible ache—” my hand cupped my temple. “Did I hurt you?”

And then.

“You’re Madeleine Valentine Aubert?”

I looked up, stunned, nobody in this party should know me by that name. Unless, yes, a fan of Madeleine the ballerina. Not Madeline-the-whore I felt tonight.

And looking at that man’s hardened face, he didn’t seem to be a huge fan of puny ballet dancers like me. He looked rugged, out of place even for a party like this. The look of annoyance and sneer over his big face was like I’d never seen on anyone before. He was a big man, almost giant-like. He looked to be in his late forties and had creases over his forehead. He had long dark hair which was in a ponytail. His facial hair was also long, furthermore depicting the fact that he was very hairy. His strong arms flexed and his nose widened big and then small as he watched me in annoyance, bushy blonde brows knitted closely together in a frown.

I staggered back into the bathroom. “Who? Who-who’s asking?”

Wordlessly and smoothly, he stepped in after me, but he didn’t shut the door. I half expected him to do so. His voice was gruff. “You. Come with me now.”

Before I could protest, I saw his gun, and knew instantly, there was no point in protesting or alerting my cousin.