I text KadeI love you, then take another sip of the drink. It’s cool. Refreshing. Too easy to finish. I send Fern a quick message telling her I’m going to find the toilet.
The club is stifling. Bodies everywhere. Heat pressing against me as I weave through the crowd, bumping off shoulders and elbows like I’m made of rubber. My vision swims.
I find a door and try the handle.Locked.
“Fuck,” I mutter.
“If you want the toilet, it’s the door over there,” a man calls from somewhere behind me. His voice sounds far away, echoing, like my ears are full of cotton.
I squint at the wall until I see another door. I focus on it, hand trailing along the plaster until I reach it. I push and stumble straight through, landing hard on my knees.
“Fuck—” I gasp, realising I’moutside. Cold night air rushes my face. I let out a breathy laugh.
I try pushing myself upright, clinging to the opposite wall. When I turn back, the door clicks shut behind me.
“No!” I scramble to it. There’s no handle. Just a fire exit. Seamless metal. It doesn’t budge. “Great.”
I groan, my head swimming and my eyes too fuzzy to properly focus. Something feels off.Wrong.
I crouch down, setting my bag on the ground to search through it. I pat wildly for my phone. My fingers feel thick. Clumsy. So I dump everything out and wince as lipsticks, receipts, gum, and keys scatter across the alley.
My phone hits the concrete—face first—and the back pops off. “Shit…”
“Let me help with that.”
I freeze. A man steps forward out of the shadows. My vision blurs, doubling his outline. He crouches, picks up my phone, and turns it over.
“I’m not sure if you’ve really fucked your phone up,” he says conversationally, tapping it. Then he shrugs. “Yep. It’s broken.”
He drops it—and crushes it under his boot.
I blink, swaying, confusion twisting into fear.
“Oops,” he says softly.
“Wh–yo—” The words tumble out wrong. Slurred.
The whole alley tilts, and I clamp a hand to the wall to stop myself sliding back to the ground.
“Come on, Queenie,” the man murmurs. “Let me take care of you.”
Kade.My fogged brain jumps to the only name that feels safe.
Kade’s here. Of course he is. He always finds me.
I manage a weak smile as my legs buckle.
Strong arms slide under me, and I’m lifted, cradled against a chest. But the second my cheek hits fabric, everything in me tenses.
It’s wrong. The smell. The warmth. The way he holds me.
I try to push away, but my arms won’t work. My head lolls, heavy and uncooperative, and he carries me a few steps before lowering me to the cold ground. My knees hit first, then my palms. I can barely brace myself.
The air is freezing, but my limbs feel thick, numb. Rubber.
A breath tickles my ear. “You wearing the lace, Queenie?” he whispers.
Every hair on my body rises.
