I stare at it like it might bite me.
Ten seconds pass.
Twenty.
My chest hurts.
Then the phone buzzes in my hand.
Unknown Number: “Where are you?”
Relief hits me so hard I almost cry.
I type with shaking fingers.
Violet: “Silverbrook Valley. New club. VIP area. I’m with my friend. A man won’t leave me alone.”
A pause. Two seconds.
Unknown Number: “Keep your phone on you. Stall. Act natural. I’ll be there in 30 minutes tops.”
Something fragile lifts in my chest.
Thirty minutes.
Thirty minutes feels like forever and also like a miracle.
I glance at the guy beside me. He’s watching me now, eyes narrowed slightly.
“Who are you texting?” he asks.
My heartbeat stutters.
My brain scrambles for something normal, something harmless.
“My friend,” I say, lifting my chin toward the couch like I’ve been texting her the whole time. “She’s… distracted.”
He smirks. “Yeah. She’s busy.”
He reaches for my phone like he thinks he can take it.
I pull it back fast. Too fast.
His smile drops.
“You’re making this weird,” he says.
I force a laugh again. It sounds wrong. Thin.
“I’m just checking in,” I say. “I should probably use the bathroom.”
He leans in, blocking my line of sight toward the exit. “You can go later.”
My skin goes tight, like it’s warning me before my brain catches up.
“I’m going now,” I say, pushing to my feet before he can decide I’m not allowed.
He starts to rise. I slip past him, weaving toward the hallway marked RESTROOMS, shoulder brushing strangers, breath coming shallow.
