4. Lena
Those steely gray eyes sweep over me, taking in every inch of me. He towers over me at well over six feet, with shoulders almost as wide as a doorframe. He’s dressed in all black with a slotted, dark-colored, tactical mask that covers the entire bottom half of his face. His black hood is pulled forward, almost completely shadowing his features.
His eyes flick up again, darkening as he takes in the scene that’s unfolded behind me. I pull my gaze from him and see that one of the men who came from the club has taken the masked man to the floor. He’s fighting against his hold as a knife hovers inches from his throat.
The giant rushes past me, making it to them in a few strides. Grabbing the man around the waist, he hoists him off his friend. Yanking the knife out of his hand, he doesn’t hesitate to slice the blade across the assailant’s neck, his gags bubbling as the crimson blood falls across his chest.
The giant drops him like a sack of potatoes, blood pooling around his now lifeless body. Turning on the group of men, his eyes narrow as he zones in on Matt.
The giant takes a step toward him, but hesitates. I follow his line of sight as two more men enter the hall, running straight for us. One of the men beelines toward the giant, a knife glinting in his hand. They crash together before the giant grips the man by his head, snapping his neck like it was a twig. I choke on a gasp as he throws the body to the side as if he was nothing more than a rag doll.
I don’t see the masked man anywhere now, but I catch sight of one of the club’s men falling to the ground, gripping his side and moaning in pain, just as the two new men grab Matt and drag him away. He steadies his footing as he swings an arm around one of the men’s necks, then limps toward the door, blood running down his leg. It drips on the floor like he’s leaving a trail of breadcrumbs.
Just as they hit the threshold, he looks back, his cold eyes landing on mine. My pulse races at everything that look could mean and every intention he has for me. The words he mouths send a chill down my spine. You’re fucking mine .
His gaze is cut from mine as the men drag him through the threshold, disappearing into the crowd of people on the other side.
I’m frozen in place and the world is slowly fading around me. The commotion has become muffled and my vision is tunneling as my knees grow weak. The knot in my stomach has moved up to my throat as panic starts to take over, because all of this is too much.
I stumble back against the wall, barely holding myself up as my knees buckle. What the fuck just happened? I look down at my trembling hands, my vision blurring on the edges as panic wraps itself around my throat, trying to squeeze the air from my lungs.
The murmur of voices around me seems to turn into a roar as the events begin to replay in my mind. I can hear his voice saying you’re fucking mine over and over, as if it’s a war chant. A hot tear escapes and rolls down my cheek.
What have I done?
Why didn’t I just go with him and make things easier for everyone? Why did I think I could escape him and go on to live a normal life? I endangered everyone in this club tonight, and now, their blood is on my hands. If it wasn’t for me, none of this would have happened. I should just go. Follow him out the door and hand myself over, make it easier for everyone in the end. I’ll suffer the consequences of my actions and take the hits that I deserve.
A voice whispers my name, but I don’t register who and just keep staring at my shaking hands, trying to will them to stop. Trying to find the strength in my legs to carry me from this place. To save anyone else from their downfall by just being in the same room as me while Matt is on his war path.
“Lena.” The whisper grows louder, cutting through my thoughts.
A hand brushes my hair away from my face before a finger hooks under my chin, forcing me to look up. I’m met with sharp blue eyes that glitter behind a silver and black mask. His thumb rests on my chin, keeping me locked in on him. “Lena, are you okay?” he asks, his voice low.
I try to shake my head, to snap myself out of this panic attack that’s trying to take over, but he keeps his grip on me. I focus on his breaths as they fill the space between us, the smell of whiskey and mint filling my nose. My skin tingles where his fingers are, heat spreading along my cheeks. I take deep breaths, letting his scent fill my lungs, but they’re still too fast and my head is spinning.
“Say something,” he whispers. I part my lips, trying to find words that just won’t come. My mind is still reeling from the fight and my eyes flicker from his to the pools of blood on the floor. Bile crawls up my throat and I swallow thickly, my panic rising higher.
He tugs my chin. “Eyes on me, love.” He brings his face closer to mine, blocking my view of the men moving around behind him.
I squeeze my eyes shut, blinking several times, trying to bring things back into focus. The tunnel vision starts to turn back into blurry edges, the spinning room slows, and my breaths steady. His face becomes clearer, his features turning sharp again as I take a deep, steadying breath. “There you are.” The gentle praise in his voice sends my heart into overdrive.
“I-I’m fine now,” I murmur. My cheeks heat from embarrassment as I try to shake his grip from my chin. His hand falls away, and I press myself harder against the wall as he takes a small step back, giving me some space. I look him over and see that his face is already swollen and bruised from where he was punched, along with splatters of blood across his shirt.
“Oh God.” My hand claps over my mouth at the realization of seeing a man’s throat be slit. Nausea roils in my stomach and I gag into my hand. I bend over, coughing as the image of the knife cleaving his throat fills my head, searing itself into my memory.
He places his hand on the small of my back, the warmth of his touch spreading across my now clammy skin. I brace my hands on my knees and suck in deep breaths, working to push down the urge to vomit across his designer shoes.
Another pair of designer shoes joins him, these paired with a rough voice. “Boss, we have to remove the bodies, so we’ll have to keep the rooms locked a little while longer.”
I keep my head down as the masked man answers quietly, “Fine. Do whatever needs to be done.” He rubs his thumb back and forth across my back in a soothing rhythm. “Are any of them still breathing?”
“Yeah, boss. He’s been stabbed and knocked out, but he’s more alive than dead,” the rough voice answers, amusement lacing his words.
“Good. I want him taken to the basement.” His thumb switches to small circles, his other fingers pressing into my skin. “I’ll deal with him later.”
The man leaves us, and I attempt to stand back up straight, but still being lightheaded, I stumble. The masked man grips my arm to hold me steady. “Easy, love. Take as long as you need.”
I look past him and see the lifeless bodies laid out on the floor. Men dressed in all black start dragging them toward the far door, throwing them down without a care. Men move in and out of the space, dragging bodies out and coming back empty-handed. There must be an elevator or something on the other side of that door, because they’re not gone for very long with each trip. And I don’t even want to think about how they’re going to dispose of them.
More men come in. This time, they’re wearing rubber boots and dragging cleanup equipment behind them, right over to the pools of blood that have been left behind from the carnage, and begin their cleanup efforts.
Body bags are laid out and the few bodies left are lifted with more care and placed inside of the bags. They zip them up to their necks, leaving their faces exposed. They must be men who worked here and will be properly handled, unlike the others who were with Matt.
My heart breaks for these men and their families, because they were caught up in a fight that started over me. One that should have never happened if Matt would just fucking let me go.
“You’re coming upstairs with me,” the masked man says, his voice low and rough. His grip on my arm tightens, as if he expects me to fight him. What he doesn’t realize is that I want to be anywhere but here right now. I already followed him down to a sex dungeon, what’s the harm in following him up?
I’m still in a state of shock, so I know that I should just walk out of this hallway, back to my friends, and fucking leave. But, in my stupor, I just keep letting him lead me away from all the blood and bodies. I try to form the words to ask about my friends, but they fall silent on my tongue. I don’t even bother to look at my phone that’s tucked away in my dress, because how do I even explain what the fuck has happened tonight?
I slow my steps and yank us to a stop. “I need to check on my friends.” My voice is monotone, the emotion almost drained out of me completely. But that voice in my head is screaming to make sure he remembers that other people are here with me tonight, to remind him that someone will be looking for me eventually. I don’t try to fight his hold, but I find just enough strength in me to hold my ground. “I need to make sure they’re not in danger, too. That he didn’t get to them.”
My body is numb as I try to pull him back the other way, moving on autopilot as I step back toward the club, but we don’t budge.
He looks past me and nods, but I can’t find it in me to care who he is communicating with, because I just need to lay eyes on Bri and Kate. I just need to know that they’re safe. “We’ll keep an eye on them tonight and make sure that they’re in good hands.” He gives me a reassuring smile. “I promise.”
This man is dangerous. His ability to shift his demeanor and fit his personality to whoever he’s talking to gives me a false sense of security.
Fuck, this man is probably a sociopath, because he doesn’t seem to give a shit about all the blood around us and the lives that were lost tonight. And the way he’s looking at me, as if I’m his next fucking meal, has the hair on the back of my neck rising.
I should fight him, run away screaming for my life, but I don't. Instead, I nod and let his hand slip back around my arm, his fingers gripping me firmly. The warmth of his touch spreads up my arm, giving me a sense of security. I hear boots on the ground as the giant man approaches us.
I watch him as his fingers tap away on his phone, the glow on his face makes his gray eyes bright. He looks up at the masked man, giving him an affirmative nod like a solider to their commander.
Who the fuck is this man?
He watches me for a moment, his brows knitting under his hood as if he’s looking at something repulsive. He’s a calculated killer, one who will remember every detail of their target and will be ready to strike when the time is right.
Both of these men, whoever they are, are going to ruin my life. I can already tell .
“We’ve just confirmed that your friends are safe, and they won’t be going anywhere anytime soon. They’re none the wiser to what’s happened here.” His words are smooth, like he’s speaking to a room full of important people. He nods toward the door. “Come with me.”
“How do you know which ones are my friends?” I ask sharply because, of course, I’m more worried about my friends and their safety than my own.
He looks to the giant who once again gives him a nod, their silent conversation continuing, leaving me in the dark. “We have eyes watching every person in the building, love. Your friends included.” He leans down to me, his breath warm on my ear. “You think we didn’t already know who you were the minute you walked into this place?”
My heart thunders in my chest and my eyes go wide as dread crawls across my skin. Fuck, they’ve probably been watching me since the first time I came here with Matt. My legs ache with the need to run, but I stay put, because there’s a question hanging in the air. “So, you only tried to fuck me because of my ex-fiancé, right? You wanted to get under his skin?”
He pulls back from me, his eyes narrowing on me before a sly smile pulls at his lips. “Oh, love. If only he was that important to me to think that far ahead.” His voice drips with a condescending tone as he pulls me closer to him, our chests pressing together. He looks down at me and presses his hips into me. I swear I feel his erection growing between us as he uses his finger to hook under my chin, pulling my face up to look at him. “All I saw tonight was a fucking beautiful woman who looked like she hadn’t been properly fucked in a long time, and I wanted to give her that. You being that fucker’s fiancée was just an added bonus.”
I should pull away and slap him. Grab those words and shove them back down his throat, but I’m too stunned to do anything. If his words are true, then he didn’t care who I was, he was genuinely interested in me. Which sounds insane because no man has looked at me twice in the last five years. So, if it wasn’t for Matt, then what was it?
He takes a slight step back, his hand still wrapped around my arm. He gives the giant man one more silent nod before forcing my legs to move again. I don’t know where he’s taking me, but he leads me to a door that’s hidden behind a large, full-length painting.
It’s an odd sensation to follow this strange man farther into the building and not be afraid of him hurting me, or hell, killing me to send a message to Matt. If that was what he wanted to do, he would have taken the chance while Matt was here in the flesh. Took his knife and sliced my throat open right and paint the club crimson with my blood.
I have no doubt that I’ll be part of some plan, but for now, I’m going to accept any help I can get.
Part of me knows better than to blindly follow this stranger, but the other part of me just watched them not only disarm my ex-fiancé, but made sure to keep me safe during the whole attack. I’m not looking for a knight in shining armor, but after that debacle, I clearly need some allies. And this man and his people seem to be my best bet at the moment.
His grip loosens to a casual hold as we get closer to the door. He looks down at me, a smile tugging at his lips. “I owe you a drink on the house. Are you still interested?”
I stare at him, my mouth agape at this casual suggestion, but he’s right. I could definitely use a drink after all of that. So, I give him my best smile, which isn’t much at this point, and slowly nod. “How’s your amaretto sour?”
He leans down, his lips brushing the shell of my ear as his words nearly send a chill down my spine. “To die for.”
I find myself on an elevator heading up several floors of the building after he gained access with his fob, showing me just how secure this place can be.
“Where are we going?” My anxiety is slowly starting to rise with the elevator.
He looks at me and smiles. “To the safest place in this building.”
“Which would be?” Apprehension fills my voice.
“The penthouse, of course.”
My eyes widen, but he just smiles at me, only looking away to check his phone before typing a message and pocketing it again.
The elevator slows to a stop, the doors sliding open to a short hallway.
He steps out first, turning to hold the door for me. “This way, love.”
Leading me to the single door at the end of the hall, which is decorated with the same dimly lit sconces and lacquer-painted, black door, he scans us in with the same fob as before.
We cross the threshold, and I take in the space. It’s open-concept, with the living room, which has two black sofas and two black, high-back chairs, and the kitchen, with its shiny, black cabinets and the largest white marble-topped island I’ve ever seen, on one side. The ceilings are high and adorned with skylights, which complement the whole wall of windows that look out onto the city.
On the other side, two large wooden desks face each other, each with multiple computer screens. An obscenely large flatscreen TV hangs between them and hangs over an electric fireplace framed by dark wooden bookshelves.
On the back wall are three doors painted the same lacquer black, which I assume are all bedrooms. Everything here is so pristine that either he’s sleeping with his housekeeper or pays them incredibly well .
The masked man takes my hand and leads me over to one of the sofas. I take a seat, letting myself sink into the soft leather.
I lean my head back and stare up at the skylights, my muscles aching from the mix of adrenaline and these high heels. I listen as he moves around in the kitchen, the clinking of glasses and bottles almost hypnotic. It fills the silence, which is strangely comfortable. If he has plans to kill me up here, he’s good at making me feel at home before he does so.
He comes around, a clear, fizzy drink in one hand and an amber colored one in the other. He hands me the clear drink as he takes a sip of the amber liquid.
“Thank you,” I say, my voice just above a whisper.
He raises his glass to me before taking another sip, attempting to be graceful as he sits in one of the high back chairs, but I don’t miss the wince. The light of the city gives him a glow, making him look almost angelic with the golden mask on his face.
I take a sip of my drink, expecting a vodka and soda, and almost giggle about being served lemon-lime soda in a fancy glass.
The masked man catches my smile and takes another sip, not even trying to mask his own.
The silence between us is electric, prickling across my skin as he watches me take another sip. “This is the worst amaretto sour I’ve ever had.”
He nearly chokes on his whiskey, his laugh mixing in with a cough. He grabs his ribs, wincing.
“I’m sorry!” I yell out, sitting forward and cutting off my own laugh.
“Oh, love.” He chuckles as he wheezes in a breath. “That one was worth the pain.” He readjusts in the chair, running his free hand through his hair, his pained face smoothing out again.
“I’m sorry,” I say again, this time, my tone is softer.
“About?”
My brows furrow at his response. “About the fight and you getting hurt. About Matt.” I look down at my drink, watching the bubbles float to the top. “People died tonight.”
“And how was that your fault?” His voice is laced with curiosity, his head cocking to the side.
“Because he?—"
“Broke into our club and attempted to kidnap you?” He leans forward in the chair, watching me carefully.
I gape at him, every explanation that I could come up with falling silent. I guess I hadn’t considered that.
“No one would have been hurt if he hadn’t slithered into the club like the fucking snake that he is.” Anger flashes through his eyes, but he does a long blink and it’s out of his gaze in a matter of seconds. “You did nothing wrong, love. Leaving that piece of shit was the best decision you made. Hell, it probably saved your life.”
My eyes widen as his words sink in. The story clearly told itself earlier, but the way he’s talking about Matt, it’s almost like he knows him. Like he’s been waiting for the day that Matt stepped a foot back into the club. I thought the masked man was just taunting him, but I’m beginning to believe that none of this was a coincidence.
The question sits heavy on my tongue, the one where I ask what they know about Matt, but before I can ask them, the door beeps and swings open, the giant stomping through the door.
I feel this pull to look him over, like a hand pressing against my cheek and forcing my head in his direction. I don’t fight the instinct; instead, I drink in the sight of him. He’s rugged, and based on the size of his muscles, he’s seen the inside of a gym a time or two. His broad chest pulls his black tee tight across his body, and when he shifts, his pecs flex, and I imagine they’re hard as stone. He’s wearing fitted, black cargo pants that taper down into very large black combat boots. He has a bandage wrapped around his left thigh, his blood turning the stark white fabric crimson. He limps past us without saying a word and disappears behind one of the bedroom doors .
“Is he…is he alright?”
The masked man looks toward the closed door and then back to me. “He will be. He’s just pissed he got stabbed.”
I feel my panic rising. “Stabbed?”
The masked man waves off my panic, scoffing a little. “It’s not the first time. Besides, he’s had worse done to him. He’s just sulking about the fact that he might be losing his touch. He’s fine.”
My mouth falls open at this man’s nonchalance about the whole situation, but I watch an emotion cross his face as he sips on his drink, one that I can’t quite place from under his mask.
I let silence fall between us as I look out at the city, replaying tonight’s events in my mind. He was here. After months of being away, he came here to drag me back to that miserable life. To him .
It feels like an eternity of silence but can only last about ten minutes. I finish off my soda and thunk the empty glass on the coffee table, the masked man’s eyes drawing up from his phone to meet mine.
I’ve had plenty of time to calm down and now I want answers. I take a deep breath, steadying my nerves. “Who are you?”
He chuckles, cocking his head to the side. “Not one for small talk, are we, love?”
“I think after everything that’s happened tonight, we can go ahead and skip the small talk, can’t we?”
He chuckles again while leaning forward, placing his now empty glass on the coffee table, mimicking the sound of my glass. I watch as his breath catches and winces, his hand lightly touching his side again.
I let my frustration disappear because this man helped me when he didn’t have to and was injured. “Are you okay?” I scoot forward, closer to the edge of my seat, trying to get a better look at him. “I think you need a doctor.”