Chapter 45 The Lost Ones
The Lost Ones
Istand before a swanky club less than an hour later, its exterior sleek and inviting. The neon lights cast a seductive glow on the patrons lined up outside. I feel Shadow nearby. I’m edgy and nervous to get this over with.
Though Shadow is invisible, he's always there, watching, waiting, trusting me to feed his needs. But I need to work quickly before he finds the wrong mark for his meal.
I adjust the straps of my dress, the luxurious fabric sliding against my skin.
Its blood-red color is fitting for the work I’m about to do.
After watching more videos on the library’s computer the last couple of weeks, I’m confident my makeup is done to perfection.
Dark and alluring, it’s a mask that hides my true intentions.
It took extra time to cover my bruises with concealer.
It’s difficult to walk with a natural gait as my muscles seize with stiffness and a raw pain radiates from between my legs.
My chest also aches despite being healed.
The things we endure for love.
As I step forward, the bouncer gives me a nod, recognizing the predator in me.
I’ve learned I don’t need to wait in any lines when I look like I do. They need me here as much as I need to be here.
Knowing Shadow is watching, I glance back one last time before I disappear into the throng of the club to find my next mark.
The club's interior is a stark contrast to the dive bars I've frequented. The air is heavy with expensive perfumes, the lights dim yet inviting, and the music is a sultry rhythm that beckons the wealthy and powerful.
My usual divey haunts have started getting a reputation for people disappearing. I need to diversify the hunting field, so tonight I’m stepping onto fresh new ground.
Gound I expect to be just as soiled.
The thing about bad people is that they are connected to other bad people. The last guy Shadow feasted on ran a drug ring from his squalid apartment, a place reeking of chemicals and desperation.
Among the clutter and chaos, we found a pile of matchbooks from a club called The Twisted Halo. When I brushed my fingers over a small packet, it sang to me in a chorus of opulence and corruption.
Adjusting my dress so it highlights my contoured breasts, I wonder if my mind is truly lost. Matchsticks singing to me...
I grab a drink from the bar as I wonder for the hundredth time if I should be locked away in a cozy little padded cell. But as long as Shadow is on the run from the Guard, I will put myself on the line to get him what he needs.
We take care of each other. Monster to monster.
As I weave through the club, the soft thud of the bass vibrates under my feet. The rhythm of the music intertwines with the beat of my heart. The low lights circle overhead, giving me glimpses of the shadowy figures around me.
I catch sight of a man snorting fine white powder off a woman’s ample cleavage. She tugs down the top of her dress so he can wrap his lips around her nipple after he’s finished.
Two women sip martinis as the man between them slides cash to one of them under the table. Their teasing fingers pull him by the lapels to a back room.
A young, attractive man with wholesome looks and a hesitant smile strikes me as out of his element here.
A lamb among wolves. Maybe brought here by coworkers?
As he watches the DJ spinning tracks under the dancing purple lights, he doesn’t notice the older woman next to him slip something into his drink before cheers-ing him. Unaware, he throws back the contents.
I pause for a moment and close my eyes, letting my other senses guide me.
I can taste the hedonism in the air, mingled with something more sinister.
It’s fruity and bright with a dark undertone that is cloying to my senses.
There’s the clink of glasses, the rustle of silk dresses, and the occasional laugh that rings a bit too loudly.
There’s something dark and depraved here that pulses like a life beat to everything around me.
When I open my eyes, I see him—a man whose aura screams power and menace.
Thick dark hair, square jaw, expensive suit, and eyes that glint with a keen malevolence.
He's surrounded by people, yet is somehow isolated in his dominance.
The way he watches the crowd like a king surveying his court tells me everything I need to know.
Everyone here is his slave whether they know it or not.
A part of me hesitates to target him. While I usually pick the rats on the outskirts, this man seems to be at the center of everything. But I know in my gut he has to be the one.
As I start moving toward him, the hairs rise on the back of my neck and gooseflesh breaks out everywhere on my body. Someone is watching. I slow my steps and glance over my shoulder as casually as I can.
Shadow hovers in a dark corner only a few feet away. No one but me notices him.
My breath catches. He never comes in. He always waits for me to draw them out.
Obsidian eyes meet mine, and for a moment, I see the beast within surge to the forefront.
A flicker of raw, unbridled hunger crosses his features, and I freeze.
For a heartbeat, I think he's going to lunge, to give in to the monstrous urges that are consuming him.
But then there's a flash of recognition, a return to the here and now.
He remembers who I am, and the moment of danger passes.
Relief washes over me, mingled with a pang of sorrow. Shadow is fighting a losing battle, not just with the Guard but with himself. I can see the toll it's taking on him.
I need to help him. Now.
My resolve hardens as I turn back to my target.
Each beat of the music sends vibrations through my body, aligning with the racing of my heart.
I make my way toward the target, my heels clicking rhythmically against the polished floor. I don’t approach quietly or discreetly. I’ve locked onto him, and I approach in a straight, direct line.
The man’s eyes scan up my legs lazily, appreciatively, before lingering at my breasts. A spark of interest ignites in his eyes as our gazes lock. His pupils are oversized pools of ink. He’s high.
"Well, hello," he greets, his voice smooth like velvet but with an edge that sends a shiver down my spine. "Haven't seen you around before."
His gaze finds the fractal patterns of my birthmark that travel over my neck and shoulder. I do my best to cover them up with makeup, but he homes in immediately. My skin prickles under his attention.
"No, you haven’t," I say flatly, refusing to pander to him. Then I take a sip of the champagne I got earlier to blend in. I broadcast boredom with my every move and expression.
His nostrils flare as he shifts, entering my gravitational pull. He’s a hunter like me, and he accepts the challenge I just placed before him.
"And why is that?" he presses, rolling the tumbler of whiskey in his hand.
"Not sure there was anything worth my while here," I say, without breaking eye contact.
He tucks his tongue behind his teeth as a smug smile curves his lips. He scans me a second time with deliberate assessment, not bothering to hide it. Plucking my glass from my grip, he sets our drinks aside.
His hand meets the small of my back. "Well, how about we start by getting you a fresh drink. Then I'll see about making your visit... worth your while."
I expect him to lead me toward one of the backrooms. Instead, I’m directed to a set of stairs. We pass a security guard who gives the man I’m with a nod. "Mr. Hurley."
"Welcome to my private quarters," he announces after we’ve ascended two flights. Mr. Hurley swings open the door to a room that smells of rich leather and wood polish with a faint, almost imperceptible, chemical undertone. A plush leather couch and heavy mahogany desk ground the room. With a quick look at the plaques and pictures on the walls, I realize too late I’ve engaged with the club owner.
"Please take a seat, Miss... " he prompts.
"Umbra." I don’t offer a first name because he didn’t ask.
Mr. Hurley isn’t likely to know that umbra is Latin for shadow, or the significance it holds to me.
"Miss Umbra," he repeats, lips twitching. He crosses to a glass bar cart and begins mixing cocktails.
So sure of himself, he doesn’t even ask what I drink.
Sweat breaks out on my palms. I’m in over my head. The room feels tiny compared to the booming music from the club outside, but Hurley's presence dominates it. His energy sizzles and crackles against my skin like a live wire.
"Maybe we should go somewhere else," I comment in that same bored tone. "It’s stuffy in here."
"Is it?" he says in an equally disinterested tone. He sets down the cocktail shaker to walk behind the desk and open the window. A fresh breeze sweeps through as he returns to the bar cart.
Shit. That line usually gets everyone out into the alleyway, or I convince them they want to take me home. But this guy is already quite at home in his private office above the club.
"Maybe I need a place more familiar to get relaxed?" I quip, squirming on the couch in a seductive yet petulant manner. It took me a long time to master the pout, so I don’t come off like a goofy duck.
"Maybe I need to teach you a lesson for being such a brat," he says, his back still turned.
His words crack against me.
With a quick, false apologetic grin, he adds, "I’m a beast, I know. You must forgive me. I’m not used to such an... elegant woman as yourself."
Elegant? I suppress a snort. Who’s kidding who here?
Usually, I hold the cards over the men, but this one is different. The power he exudes is older and more seasoned. He’s been a hunter longer than I have. I’m beginning to regret my decision.
How do I get him outside?
He hands me a glass, his eyes never leaving mine. "Let’s see if this is worthy of such an elegant female with discerning taste." Again he says "elegant woman" as if he meant to call me a stupid cunt. There’s a challenge in his eyes as he toasts my glass.
I don’t take drinks from the men I lure in. I only get them from the bar where I can see the bartender make it, but if I don’t drink this, the game will be over. I’ll have to leave, likely the entire club, and go try to find Shadow a heart somewhere else.
We might not have that long.
The pressure of Shadow's need pushes me to take a small sip. Hurley’s lids flicker with displeasure.
"Is it not to your liking?" A coldness has seeped into his voice.
I lift a brow as if he is being boorish, even as my heart smacks against my rib cage. Then I take a deep pull of the icy old fashioned. I work to suppress a cough from the hard liquor.
"Satisfied?" I taunt.
White teeth gleam in a triumphant grin. "Not hardly," he rasps.
As I set the glass down, a wave of dizziness washes over me. My vision blurs, the room tilting in a sickening swirl of colors. My stomach lurches hotly.
Fuck. No. Dammit.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
This can’t be happening. I stumble and then grasp at the couch, managing to balance myself on the arm. I don’t have long before my system shuts down from whatever he drugged me with.
I knew better and I still drank it. Why did I do it? I’m so stupid.
But I put Shadow before everything else, so it felt worth the risk. It wasn’t.
"You make it too easy," he laughs lightly.
"A pretty little thing like you looking for trouble?
" He tsks. "I can always tell when I’ve found the lost ones.
I have a nose for it." He taps said nose. "But don’t worry, sweetheart. You aren’t lost anymore.
I have clients who will pay a high price for a saucy little slut like you.
" His knuckles softly caress my cheek. "Though I do think I might need to test the goods for quality assurance reasons. "
Panic surges through me, but it's like moving through molasses. Feeling drains from my legs until I end up collapsing on the couch. I try to speak, to move, but my body betrays me, heavy and unresponsive.
Hurley’s figure looms over me, his words a distant echo. The last thing I hear is a belt unbuckling before succumbing to the darkness.