My teeth clench. “Vivienne’s always wanted one thing from me.”
“Yeah?” Damon raises a brow. “And what’s that?”
“Go pack,” I say, brushing past him as I stride to my closet. “We leave in fifteen.”
“Fine,” Damon grumbles as he disappears into the hall.
How did we get here? How did it all go so wrong?
I close my eyes and force myself to forget how it all started.
Heady house music pulsates through the club as I lean against the VIP railing, a drink in hand. Damon weaves his way through the crowd toward me with a sly grin.
“God, I love Fridays at Lux,” he slurs, the scent of bourbon lingering on his breath. He nods behind us to a blonde dancer wrapped in tiny pieces of leather. “Your turn, Q. She’s feisty. I think you’ll like her.”
“In a minute,” I say, gaze floating to the stage as a dancer emerges from the strobe lights. I nod down, lips pursed as the MC welcomes Ally Cat to the stage. “I think she’s new.”
Damon follows my gaze, his eyes lighting up with devious intentions. Ally’s inky black hair outlines her cloudy blue irises, and we’re both mesmerized. Damon and I share an amused, knowing smirk.
“Do you think she'd be interested in playing with us, Q?” he asks, chuckling under his breath.
“They always are,” I grin, holding up my glass. “To strays.”
I open my eyes.
Emery is not Alison.
She’s not.
THE LUNA EFFECT
EMERY
I’ve fantasizedabout death many times before. I’ve craved the taste of an everlasting sleep. But that desire, that morbid curiosity no longer resides within me. It’s faded. Ever so slowly but it has. Now the idea of an endless black hole is frightening, almost unfathomable.
But the clock is now ticking, and my death, sadly, is imminent.
I want to rely on Quin. On Damon, although I’m unsure if he even knows that I’ve been taken, snatched away. But I can’t. I can’t expect them to save me. Even if Quin decodes my shoddy attempt at a message, he still needs to find me. If I don’t even know where I am, how is he supposed to?
Where am I?
Where?
I close my eyes, attempting to extract every ounce of information from my surroundings. Every detail can be a potential lifeline. Slowing my breaths, I listen. I listen until Ihear it. It’s faint, but I hear it. The call of a seagull. Is that a seagull? I listen more intently. Yes. That’s…that’s a seagull.
I draw in a long breath, and focus. There’s a cracked window above me, on the wall. I can feel a light breeze. It smells like…salt, maybe? The ocean? Are we by the ocean? Maybe we’re on an island…or somewhere near the shore. A coastline. But where? We could be anywhere.
My internal investigation is interrupted when I hear Toni's voice, sharp and demanding.
"Eat."
The plate clatters as she places it on the floor. The fragrant aroma of the food wafts up my nostrils, and I open my eyes to see what she's offering. It looks like a sandwich of sorts. Or a rather odd lasagna. A local delicacy, perhaps?
“It’s scaccia,” Toni elaborates. “Very tasty. Eat.”
Italy? Maybe we’re in Italy. That would make sense given Toni’s heritage. But where? North? South? East? West? Or we’re nowhere in Italy, and she simply enjoys Italian cuisine. Or home cooking.
“Eat.”
