1. Shadows of the Past #3
The bouncer leads us through a narrow corridor, and my frustration simmers just below the surface. Each step a mockery of the fun we were supposed to have. The dim lighting and plush velvet walls only heighten my sense of entrapment.
“Where are you taking us?” I demand, forcing my voice to remain steady despite the irritation beneath it.
He doesn’t respond, just continues walking, his silence stinging like a slap across my face. My friends glance at each other, unease creeping into their expressions. Lydia’s brow furrows while Olivia bites her lip, clearly sensing my agitation.
We finally arrive at a heavy door that swings open with a creak, revealing a private room bathed in shadow and soft red light. It feels too intimate for my liking—like being placed under a spotlight when I’m not even on stage.
“Sit,” he orders, motioning toward a low couch against the wall.
“What is this? Some kind of joke?” I snap, crossing my arms defensively. “We’re not criminals. We just wanted to enjoy our night.”
He remains stoic, his dark eyes scanning us as if he’s evaluating whether we’re worth his time or not. It infuriates me that he won’t give us any explanation for this ridiculous detainment.
“Are you going to say anything?” I push further, unable to mask the bite in my tone. “You can’t just throw people in here without telling them why.”
His silence deepens the tension in the room, each second stretching into eternity as I glare at him. The calmness radiating from him only fuels my anger. How dare he treat us like this?
Lydia leans closer to Olivia, whispering something I don’t catch.
“Eve,” Olivia murmurs softly, her hand brushing mine in an attempt to soothe me.
I shake off her touch and glare back at the bouncer, insulted by his indifference. “What do you want from us?”
Still nothing from him—just that damn cool demeanor that makes me feel like I’m talking to a brick wall instead of a human being.
“You can’t just keep us here.” My voice rises an octave as frustration wins the battle against my anxiety.
Ignoring me, the mountain of a man steps out, the door slamming shut with a finality that echoes through the dimly lit room. The lock clicks into place, sealing us inside like trapped animals in a cage. Panic flares in Lydia’s eyes, and Olivia’s lips thin into a worried line.
“What just happened?” Lydia asks, her voice barely above a whisper. “Are we going to be okay?”
I crack my neck and shake my hands out at my sides. “Okay? Seriously? This is outrageous.” I stride over to the door and pound my fists against it with all my might. The solid wood reverberates under my blows.
“Hey! Let us out! What’s going on?” My voice rings out sharply, echoing off the walls as I demand answers from an empty corridor outside. “This is a violation of our rights. We did nothing wrong.”
My heart races, and each shout sends adrenaline coursing through me. I glance back at Lydia and Olivia. Their faces, now pale with concern, only feeds my determination more.
“This isn’t right.” I slam my palm against the door again, feeling the sting in my skin but not caring.
Lydia shakes her head frantically, glancing nervously at the door as if expecting it to burst open any second. “Evelyn, calm down. We need to stay calm.”
“I don’t know if I can. They can’t lock us up.” I pace back and forth now, hands clenched into fists at my sides.
The walls close in around me. Every second that passes feels like an eternity spent in limbo while frustration pulses through me like fire.
Time stretches, and my anxiety heightens as I pace the small room. Each minute drags on. I pound on the door again, each thump echoing in my chest, my heart racing in time with my escalating anxiety.
I feel trapped. It’s a bleak reminder of what Ryan did during those last days of our marriage. I spent twelve hours locked in our bathroom before I finally broke out. That asshole was nowhere to be found.
“Evelyn,” Lydia whispers, her voice laced with concern. “Maybe we should just sit down?”
“No. We can’t just sit here like this,” I retort, teetering on the edge of sanity. “We have to get out.”
Every breath feels heavy as I glance at Olivia, who stands against the wall, biting her lip in worry.
I want to scream that we don’t deserve this—that we were just three women looking for a night of fun and distraction from our pasts.
Just like I didn’t deserve to be locked up by Ryan because we had a fight.
The door swings open abruptly, forcing me to take a step back.
A second man strides into the room—tall and broad-shouldered.
The moment he steps inside, a chill runs down my spine mixed with a thrill I can’t ignore.
His presence envelops us like an electric charge.
He’s strikingly handsome. Older, maybe mid-fifties.
Dark hair flecked with silver frames his face, and his mostly gray beard adds a rugged allure that sends my heart racing against my better judgment.
There’s something familiar about him—a dangerous familiarity that speaks to some part of me yearning for connection. His dark eyes scan the room before landing on me, piercing right through my defenses. I know this man. But in my anxiety and frustration over our treatment, I can’t pinpoint how.
The air shifts, and I feel it before I see it—the tension crackling like static electricity.
He pulls his eyes from mine, and they bore into Olivia, his expression darkening as he takes in her presence. A flicker of recognition washes over his features, morphing into something more volatile.
“Olivia,” he snaps, his voice low and controlled but simmering with barely contained anger. “What the hell are you doing here?”
I shift uncomfortably at the sharpness of his tone, glancing between him and my friend. Confusion and surprise battle for my emotions. How does he know Olivia? And why does her presence make him so angry?
Olivia stares at him for far too long, like she’s equally shocked.
Then she straightens her spine, lifting her chin defiantly.
“I didn’t know you were in Columbus or that you owned this club.
” Her voice wavers slightly but she presses on, determination lacing her words.
“We just came to have a good time, to forget our troubles for one night.”
The man’s laugh is devoid of humor. “You brought a cop into my club.” He steps closer to her, towering like a storm cloud ready to unleash its fury. “Do you have any idea what kind of trouble you’re asking for?”
I can’t help but feel the heat rising in my cheeks. His gaze shifts to me again—dark and intense—assessing whether I’m an ally or a threat.
“Hey!” Olivia’s voice breaks through the haze. “I don’t want any trouble. I ran from that. We’re just here for a night out. I didn’t even know you were in Columbus. How could I know this was your club?”
My confusion fades into the shadows as something far more concerning tugs at my emotions. My anxiety and frustration dissipate and my mind clears, recognition swirling in my mind.
I scan his face again—those sharp features, his graying temples, the dark eyes holding an intensity I remember too well. Everything clicks into place.
Ezekiel King .
The man from my past—the one who made me feel again, made me feel safe, desired.
Just when our connection was growing stronger and with a sense of permanence, he ghosted me.
My breath hitches in my throat, memories flooding back uninvited: The warmth of his hand on my lower back as he leaned closer to whisper commands into my ear.
The way he made me obey every single one of them, then gave me the best pleasure I’ve ever known.
I had no idea a man could fuck like that and then kiss me with such tender affection.
He made me want things I never thought I’d want again. And then he vanished without a trace.
I close my eyes briefly, trying to drown out those flashes. Our intimate moments—how he brushed his thumb across my cheek with such tenderness while he pounded into me like a savage beast. Each kiss tasted like a promise. Each touch ignited something deep inside me I thought was lost forever.
But here he stands—guarding the door like some brooding sentinel—and it makes me feel small and exposed under his intense scrutiny.
His expression hardens as he shifts his focus back to Olivia, acting as if I’m a stranger. A nobody. “You shouldn’t have come here.”
A swell of anger rises within me, colliding with the remnants of attraction I felt for him back then. “Zeke. Are you really going to act like you don’t know me?” I snap, stepping forward defiantly despite the unease fluttering in my chest.
“Evelyn,” Zeke acknowledges with a slow drawl, his gaze lingering on me longer than necessary. I stumble backward and bump into the wall. That smirk appears briefly before he conceals it behind a mask of indifference again.
“You have no idea how much trouble this could bring.” His voice lowers as if we’re sharing some intimate secret only we understand—a whisper from our past that shouldn’t be happening here in this tense moment.
I stare at him, unsure how to interpret his words. Is he talking about my presence in the club? My friendship with Olivia? Or the fact that there’s an energy surging around us that makes it next to impossible to maintain this distance between us.
He narrows his eyes at me, searching for something in my gaze that remains just out of reach—something both painful and intoxicating.
For a heartbeat longer than feels comfortable, we’re caught in this moment. Staring at each other like two moths drawn toward a flame ready to consume us both.
The world fades away until there’s only Zeke and me—tension hanging heavy in the air between us. Unspoken history corners us as if time has twisted into a taut string ready to snap.