Chapter 1 #2
"Could you hold this for me for one second?" He hands me a small white cloth bag and gets up abruptly, ending the moment between us.
"Sure," I mutter and then he disappears, out of sight. I spend the next half hour tapping my foot apprehensively, wondering if Aaron is okay. After a while, I decide I can't take it any longer.
I'm going to find him.
I peer into the bag he gave me, noticing the small package. It's a white rectangular block and looks a lot like something illegal. Why would Aaron be carrying this?
There must be some plausible explanation. Aaron's a good guy. He's the nicest person in class, even the lecturers love him. Maybe he's in trouble or something.
I stand up, earning a look from Darren and pretend to head to the ladies room first. Once I'm certain no one is looking, I sneak past the dj and open the door Aaron went past previously.
The silence here is jarring. My heels clack on the cement floor as I tiptoe along the corridor.
There's a couple making out by the wall and I walk past them silently. They don't even notice I'm there. I keep the cloth bag tucked safely by my side and keep my eyes peeled for Aaron.
There are rooms on either side of me but they're either empty or locked.
I reach the end and hear the faint flurry of voices from the other side, which must lead to the back alley.
Heavy footsteps echo from somewhere behind and a gruff voice tells the couple making out to 'get the fuck out of their way'.
An image of the men on the couch makes me shudder and I quickly duck into the empty, half opened closet next to me. My breathing stills as I hear the trudging of polished shoes outside and I peer through the slats in the windows to see a group of men gathered out back.
One of them hurls a young man to the dirty, wet ground. He lands in a shallow puddle, water fanning out in a chaotic spray around him. His face hangs low, his white shirt torn and stained with red.
My chest tightens at the sight of his curly hair and I clench my teeth, fear making me numb and frozen. All I can do is look, as a tall man in a suit lifts his face. I almost collapse in relief, realising that man on the ground is not Aaron.
But what happens next makes my blood curdle.
The suited man with his back to me takes out a gun and aims it at the bloodied man's face. I don't even hear it as the man's face splinters before my eyes, blood and bone smattering over the floors, turning the puddle red.
I hold back a scream, my palm plastered to my mouth tightly as my body shakes.
This isn't like the games I play online - it's real, visceral, sickening.
The man who took the shot wipes the barrel of the gun over his pants casually, like he didn't just murder someone and he turns around, revealing a tanned, chiseled face.
I take a panicked step back and my heel hits something. A broom topples over, hitting the floor with a loud clank and I turn to the window, watching as numerous pairs of eyes flit in my direction.
Fuck.
I don't waste a second, slipping out of the door and hurrying down the corridor with a blinding speed that has my ankles aching.
The sound of harried voices echo from behind and I want to throw up at this turn of events.
I stop at the first open door, hesitating at the darkness inside as the voices behind grow louder. Suddenly, an arm reaches out and pulls me inside, earning a yelp from me. The next thing I know, I'm pressed up against the wall, staring up at a hooded figure.
Panic claws at my nerves, my body shaking as I look up into the eyes of death. All I see is darkness but the figure pulls his hoodie back, revealing a young man's face. The shadows mask the shade of his eyes, his sharp, angular face half obscured, half illuminated by the moonlight from the window.
He leans in, invading my space and I catch a whiff of sweet musk.
"What are you running from zaychik (little rabbit)?" He lifts an arm and even though he's covered, I startle by the size of it. He's huge, he towers over me - even in my heels - and I know there's no way out of this.
I'm going to die here and now.
His fingers graze my cheek, skirting past my trembling jaw and then tightening around my neck. He doesn't squeeze enough to choke, but his hold is firm like a shackle. "Speak."
"Nothing," I stammer, shaking like a leaf. Even I know how unconvincing I sound and he simply tilts his head, looking disappointed.
He peers down at the bag by my hips and snatches it out of my hold easily. His eyebrows raise when he sees its contents and he gives me a sordid smile.
"Liar."
Goosebumps erupt across my skin and I tremble even more. "It's not mine. I don't know anything. I was invited here by someone, he gave it to me and then he left...so I went to look for him-."
I'm cut off by the sound of men shouting. The young man before me stiffens, panic flashing across his face and I freeze when he leans in, our lips almost touching.
"Follow my lead," he instructs and then without warning, he kisses me.
My heart lurches when the door slams open, light edging into my vision as I close my eyes and return the kiss. The stranger's lips are soft and warm, his grip rough and unyielding, evoking something dark and foreign deep inside of me.
His hands move to my waist, catching me off guard and I hear a disgruntled voice.
"Goddamn it. Sorry." There's a sigh and the voices fade into silence.
And then I realise that we're still kissing.
My pulse races as I bite down on his lip hard, tasting something warm and metallic, making him pull away abruptly.
He releases me, touching his lip in shock. Sure enough, there's a small blob of blood on that full bottom lip of his. "Did you just bite me?"
His deep voice reverberates down to my bones and his phone rings, distracting him. I glance down at his hip, noticing the metal gun glinting when he shifts.
Oh my God. He has a gun, just like the suited man outside. What the hell have I gotten myself into? I know if I stay here any longer, the chances of him using that gun on me increases by ten fold.
He's too preoccupied by the call, his gaze now downcast. It's either now or never, so I use the opportunity to knee him where the sun doesn't shine and he doubles over in pain, cursing in Russian, I think.
I run past him, snaking through the crowd in the club and rushing towards the exit. Only when I'm outside do I inhale the fresh air, but my breaths are short and uneven. I can't breathe. I can't believe I just saw someone get murdered.
I hurry past the streets and call an Uber, hiding in a corner as I watch men in dark clothes rushing across the street.
I try not to think about who they're looking for.
Once I'm in my dorm room, I kick off my shoes and bury myself under the blankets, unable to sleep as I think about the man who kissed me and the bloody puddle on the alley floor.