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I want nothing more than to look at Xander, to feel a sense of safety, but I can’t bring myself to do it. It’s like my brain is acting on autopilot, and it knows that if I even dare a glance at him, leaving London would be a more difficult task than it needs to be.

But I can still see him out of the corner of my eye. There’s a mix of emotions on his face—hurt, anger, confusion.

Jacques breaks eye contact and spins around to face Xander.

“Xander.” His voice is pure command, but it does nothing to snap Xander out of his trance.

Aidan’s amusement fills the silent room. “Didn’t expect that, did you, Alexander?”

That’s all it takes for Xander to tug the pistol out of Aidan’s leg and aim the trigger at his head. An ear-splitting noise erupts as Aidan slumps forward with blood shooting out of the back of his head onto the pole, small bits of flesh falling onto the stage.

Xander is still looking at me, and it takes everything in me not to lock eyes with him.

It takes me a minute to realise I’m still in the outfit I danced in however long ago. I’ve lost track of time. Everything is happening in a blur of blood and unveiled secrets.

Several people flood into the club, along with noise of chatter and hushed conversations. All dressed in black hazmat suits. All carrying body bags. They get to work as soon as they step through the door.

Two more men dressed in all-black suits file in after them, immediately making a beeline for Jacques and Xander.

I catch Xander shaking his head before I finally let myself take in the scene around me. All my senses start to come back. The metallic smell of blood fills my nose first, sending immediate nausea into my stomach. It’s so potent, I gag. My skin starts tingling, and I can feel the phantom grip of Aidan on me as it feels like my heart is starting to hammer again against my chest.

Aching. Everything is starting to ache.

A face I’ve never seen before cuts into my vision. A man with warm, brown skin and a kind smile.

“Miss Wilder? I’ve been instructed to take you home. My name is Ezra. I’m Mr Warren’s bodyguard,” he states calmly.

I stand up from my seat and take a step back from him. “No.”

My legs wobble as I struggle to manoeuvre around the table.

I need to get some clothes on myself.

I need to get to my apartment. To Obsidian. Grab my emergency bag and get the hell out of here.

Ezra’s hand lands on my upper arm and halts me in my tracks. “I’m sorry, Miss, but I can’t let you go on your own. It’s too dangerous.”

I focus my eyes onto the club floor, contemplating my options when I spot a figure in the shadows at the very back.

Adrenaline shoots through my system. I choke on my breaths as I stand frozen in place.

He’s coming.

The figure steps forward, slowly showing themself in one of the only lights illuminating the club. He seems to be in some sort of uniform.

I can faintly hear Ezra trying to talk to me, but I’m laser-focused on the man currently heading towards me. No, to the bar.

He leans against it, folding his arms across his chest. I dare a look at his face, and my body relaxes as I recognise him.

It’s the police officer from the other day.

What is he doing here?

He just stands, watching everything unfold around him.

“Xander,” I mumble to myself. “You have to tell Xander about the police officer,” I say louder, turning towards Ezra.

His eyebrows pull in as he searches around the venue. “What officer?”