The stage is dark, the lights completely dimmed as I make my way to the pole.
Deciding to add a little flair to my dance, I grip the pole and flip myself to the dragonfly pose. The moment I nod my head, the music flares to life, as do the lights in the room.
They illuminate my figure, highlighting the curves and dips of my body.
I spin for a moment before I lift my body back up and begin to spin around the pole into a carousel. The crowd cheers and I can’t help but smile as I contour my body into the next move.
I continue to work the pole as the music inclines. Money is thrown across the stage as I continue to tease the front row, who are all but panting.
But this dance isn’t for them. It's for my Alphas.
Eventually, I slide to the floor with grace that I once struggled with when I started dancing. Now, it's as easy as my next breath.
I become lost in the sway of the music and the peace it offers me. After the stress of these past few weeks, it's nice being able to close my eyes and just be in the moment.
That is until the entire room goes dark.
The sounds of gunshots echo throughout the room. Shouts join the chaos as the patrons and dancers scream and run.
Pained groans sound from around me as bullets hit their targets.
“Valley! Valentina!”
Conall’s terrified voice reaches me, filling me with fear as I try to get my bearings.
I go to call back out to him but the scent of rotten apples freezes in place. A dark chuckle from behind me has my stomach threatening to spill its contents. My body goes uncharacteristically still as hands grip me, pulling me off the stage.
I don’t realize I am crying until a fist hits the side of my cheek.
“Fucking pathetic. You had the balls to try and kill me all those years ago and now faced with your failure, you turn into a sobbing mess.”
The sound of Scott Andrews' voice is a living nightmare.
One I thought I had escaped.
I thought I was safe.
But I was wrong.
“You and your used-up cunt are going to fucking pay for what you did to us. For what you did to my brothers,” he grunts, his grip on me tightening.
Bile rushes my throat. Attempting to bend, I empty my stomach contents off the side of the staircase I am being dragged down. Scott recoils, dropping my body and allowing me to fall the last few steps.
I don’t allow myself even a second to get my bearings as I stumble to my feet. I curse my heels as I begin to run but am quickly stopped by a strong grip on my hair.
I scream as Andrews pulls me back into him.
He chuckles darkly as one hand wraps around my stomach, the other holding my head back to his shoulder.
“My scared little mouse finally found her fight. It's going to be fun breaking you all over again.”
I scream and struggle against him even as a hessian bag is pulled down over my head. The scent of rotten vegetables is nauseating but I don’t stop fighting.
Not as I am dragged out of the club and into the frigid night air. Not even as I am thrown into the back of a van and smashed into the metal walls.
I won’t stop fighting.
Not this time.
