Chapter 5
FIVE
T he loud sound of the ringtone wakes me up. I rub at my eyes as I swing my legs over the bed, walking like a zombie to get the phone.
"Yes?" I answer sleepily.
"Lulu? Where are you?" Noelle's panicked voice startles me.
"I'm at the apartment." I frown, looking at the time. Damn, I've slept almost seven hours. It's already dark outside.
"You need to get out of there right now. Use the back exit."
"What—"
"I don't have time to explain it, but the police issued a warrant for your arrest and they're on their way to the apartment as we speak."
"I don't understand. Why? How would you know? How would they know I'm here?"
My confusion mounts as my brain tries to awaken and make sense of the situation.
"Raf heard about it from one of his contacts in the force. They're claiming you withdrew money from Nicholas's account after the reversal of the will. Apparently, they got a tip from someone that they saw you get into this building."
"I didn't do that. I didn't touch his money."
"I know. But it seems someone did in your name, and now they think you're trying to run away with the stolen money—potentially leave the country. They marked you as a flight risk."
"But I—" My mouth hangs open in shock. “What should I do?"
"Grab a cab and go to Brooklyn. Raf's friends live in a secure warehouse there. I'll try to get you a new identity as soon as possible. I'm so sorry."
"I don't understand," I whisper slowly, hopelessly.
"I know. But we don't have time, Lulu. If they arrest you, it's game over. You know that."
"I'll put on my shoes and leave."
After I hang up, I put on my shoes and hurry out. But just as I reach the door, the intercom rings, and I see Detective Reynolds on the screen.
Damn.
The front desk must have recognized me and told them which apartment I was in.
Wow, they were fast.
Following Noelle's instructions, I go out the back exit of the apartment block, but as I round the corner, I see more than a few police cars waiting around. And since that's the only route available, there's simply no way for me to walk right by them—not with my cast being such a recognizable feature.
Police cars swarm around the apartment building.
Noelle is right. If they arrest me, it's game over.
The Archibalds will concoct whatever accusations necessary to take me out of the equation so they can inherit all the money. Add in some xenophobia and disdain for immigrants, and it wouldn't take much for them to convince everyone that I was nothing but a gold digger looking to get rich and get a green card—all the while taking advantage of a poor man who suffered from mental illness. I can already see the story they'll spin.
And the worst thing? It's persuasive enough.
Pursing my lips, I take a few steps back to avoid being heard. And as I find a sturdy metal bar at the base of the building, I use all the strength I can muster and hit my left arm against it. The sound echoes, and the first hit doesn't do much except give me a jolt of pain. But it's a life and death situation, and that means I must push through the pain.
I hit again.
And again.
On the third hit, the plaster cracks. Hope soars in my chest. I take a deep breath and will myself to hit harder.
The cracks widen, small fissures spreading all over the cast. Another two attempts and parts of the plaster fall to the ground. I quickly peel all the pieces off my arm, noting the purple color of my skin.
There is pain, but there is also numbness.
I focus on the numbness.
Without the plaster, I should be a little less recognizable, but that doesn't mean I can be reckless. I walk to the corner of the building, waiting until more people flood the street before I lower my gaze to the ground and do my best to get lost among them.
As I put one foot in front of the other, getting farther and farther away from the police cars, my heart beats loudly in my chest as my optimism soars.
I can do this. I can...
"Right there! Stop right there," someone yells.
I turn my head only for a second to see a few policemen point at me, already running toward me. Without even thinking about it, I run.
It doesn't register that running from the police will only make it worse. The only thing I know is that if I get arrested, I'll never be able to get justice for Nikki.
The sea of people parts for me as I run, the police behind me. I may not be too familiar with New York City, but I know that Noelle's place is within walking distance from Times Square. And once I'm there, I'll be able to get lost in the crowd. My plan made, I turn to the right, going down onto 56th street. If I keep straight, I should come across Times Square— I think.
The police are hot on my trail, but it's not just officers running after me. The sound of sirens echoes from behind.
Oh, God. I'm screwed.
Not only do I have short legs, but I'm also still recovering from a car crash, in addition to having a broken arm that's now freshly out of its cast— before its time. I'm no match for some officers who undoubtedly run for a living or a bunch of police cars that have priority everywhere .
Just as I start to give up hope, I notice one of the billboards on a building shift to a new ad on a sparkly background.
You've been invited.
I frown at the familiar words.
Just two more blocks.
The words change again.
101 W 54th St.
The invite! It's the same address as the invite!
Dare to take the leap!
I maintain my stride, but one glance backward and I can see that the police are getting closer and closer to me.
As I round the corner to 54th street, in a moment of complete madness, I decide to go to that address, hoping it could at least help me elude the police for some time.
A neon flashing light with a flickering 101 W 54th street is above the entrance to a historical building. And that solidifies the decision for me.
I dash to the door and knock, waiting anxiously for someone to open and counting down the seconds until the police spot me.
The door creeps open, but there's only darkness inside. I can't spot anything. Slowly, a figure appears in the doorway. His face is covered by a red mask, his eyes barely visible in the dim lighting.
"Invite," he demands.
"I lost it." I give him an apprehensive smile. "Can I come in?"
"No invite, no come in," he states in a resolute tone before he slams the door in my face.
What...
I don't even have time to ponder my rejection as the police sirens get louder and louder. Stepping into the street, my heart begins to race as I deliberate what else I can do. No matter which way I go, I'll be caught and...
As my right arm brushes against my side, I feel a pricking sensation. Frowning, I touch my hip, noting a pocket in the dress and something that pokes through the material. To my utter surprise, as I remove the item from my pocket, it's the invite.
The same invite I'd thrown away.
But it might be the invite that saves me in this moment.
Twirling, I knock once more on the door. Just like before, it opens and the same gruff voice demands an invite. I shove it into his face, my gaze on the end of the block as I spot one of the officers rounding the corner.
I only hear a grunt of approval before I find myself inside, the door closing with a thud behind me.
"Go to the end of the hallway and down the steps," the man tells me before turning his back to me.
My lashes flutter in confusion.
I'm still not entirely sure what I got myself into or what type of establishment this might be, but as long as it provides me with some cover to escape the police, I'm willing to keep an open mind.
I walk slowly to the end of the tunnel, and as I come across the stairs leading down to the basement, I stop, somehow waiting for the police to come barging in at any moment. My body is tense, my heart in my throat as I can already envision myself behind bars, wasting away before I'll have the chance to get justice for Nikki.
No... That's out of the question!
I take another step as my conviction strengthens.
A gust of wind brushes against my right side, blowing my hair in my face. I raise my hand to tuck the stray strands behind my ear, but I stop midair as I feel the slightest touch against my face and a gentle blow of warm air on my cheek. Goosebumps spread all over my skin and a light tremor goes down my back.
I shake my head, hurrying to pull my hair back. It's just a current of air. It's not the time to give in to my overactive imagination.
But as I march forward, stabs of pain erupt all over my left arm. Without the benefit of the cast to keep it immobile, every little movement causes me anguish. And now that my adrenaline has started to wear off, the pain becomes increasingly more nuanced.
If only I'd grabbed some pain medication on my way out.
With a sigh, I continue on, curious to see what I'd been invited to. It's not as if I have anything better to do with the police still outside looking for me.
As I descend, the sound of music becomes louder and louder, and when I get to the bottom of the stairs, I notice an odd array of colored lights.
It's only when I step inside that I realize this must be a club.
The room is packed with people, dancing and swaying to the music. The lights alternate between red, blue, and pink, giving everyone an ethereal look. They look lost to the sound, their eyes closed, their bodies moving to the beat as if they were chasing the high of carpe diem—or, in this case, carpe noctem.
A melancholic smile flickers on my lips. Nikki would be so proud of my Latin—he taught me the basics himself.
"Welcome, Mrs. Archibald," a man greets me as I step inside.
I frown, confused at how he'd know my name, but I assume the person at the entrance might have let him know.
"Please, have a complimentary drink." He takes a fancy glass from his tray and hands it to me.
My mouth opens to refuse, but an errant thought pushes me to take it.
"Thank you," I say as I accept the drink. It's a neon color, something I've never seen before. But as I bring it to my mouth for a sip, a strong mango flavor with only a hint of alcohol hits my tongue. The drink is so yummy that I end up drinking it in one go.
"You may dance or go to the sitting area by the stage. The main event should start soon," the server continues, handing me another drink with a knowing smile.
Despite knowing I shouldn't, I accept it. It's too delicious to pass, and I don't think it's too strong to affect me—not that I'm an expert in alcohol. Nikki had never been a big drinker since it triggered his anxiety, so we've mostly had a glass of wine here and there with dinner. But this? This is just fabulous.
I take another sip as I walk toward the sitting area. My body is already becoming more relaxed, my heart rate dropping as my fear slowly melts away. I find an empty seat in a more secluded corner and sigh deeply as I finally sit down.
God, I don't think I've ever run as much or as fast as I did today. Then again, I don't think I ever imagined the police would chase me either.
The club is divided into three sectors. There's a rectangular dance floor in the middle, facing a main stage that's big enough to host a live show. All around, there are seating areas—tables with chairs, sofas, bar stools. There are a variety of enclosed spaces that allow for more privacy for those who don't wish to exert themselves.
If at first glance I'd thought that everyone was dancing, now that I have a better look around, I realize that the people on the dance floor are in the minority. Most people are on the fringes, glancing around suspiciously, some curiously. They're holding tightly onto the sparkly invite, their bodies tense and anxious.
Although there are some dressed normally, the majority are wearing odd costumes. I spot a few animal ones, some wolves, lions, and panthers. My eyes widen in appreciation as I study them. Their costumes are so realistic, it's as if they'd stepped out of a video game. There are also some more... eccentric ones. Some people are painted from head to toe in different colors. I spot a few pink ones, some green, and even some purple ones, all with some special features. The pink girl has translucent wings and the purple one has a fluffy tail.
"So pretty," I whisper to myself.
Compared to all these extravagant costumes, I'm only wearing a simple black dress. But the invite hadn't specified a theme, had it? My brows bunch up in confusion. I hadn't perused it enough for that, and now I wish I'd paid more attention.
But just as I think of the invite, I'm also reminded about its odd appearance and the fact that it kept following me around—or did it? There's no denying that there's something very odd about the entire situation. But I'm still not sure if this isn't a by-product of my accident.
Have I gone... mad? Is that what's happening? Maybe I'm seeing a distorted version of reality due to my head injury.
"Another drink?" A server stops in front of me, her tray full of the same neon drinks.
"I shouldn't." I lick my lips as my eyes zero in on the liquid.
Damn my sweet tooth! Why did it have to be so delicious?
"Are you sure?" she asks, pushing a glass toward me.
I'm ready to refuse, but somehow, I end up taking the drink and thanking her. Everyone is drinking the same thing, and I don't see one drunk person around. My initial assessment that it shouldn't be a strong cocktail was likely spot-on.
Sipping quietly on my drink, I realize that the pain from my arm is completely gone, my body so much more energized than before—and that's a feat considering how hard I ran.
"Is that seat taken?" A voice startles me from my reverie.
I slowly lift my gaze, blinking as I take in the owner of the voice.
She's around my age, but she has the most stunning pair of dark blue eyes I've ever seen, contrasted with the fiery red of her hair. She's wearing a pair of black high-waisted jeans and a yellow crop top that accentuate her hourglass figure—well, at least someone else is dressed in mundane clothing.
She gives me a beaming smile as she awaits my answer.
The girl is so pretty, it's hard not to be blinded by it. And I'm not the only one noticing, as everyone around is staring at her as if in a trance.
"Yes, of course. Sorry, I didn't mean to stare," I mention as I pat the seat next to me for her to join me. "You've got lovely eyes."
"Aren't you a sweetheart?" She smiles at me. "Thank you."
"I'm sure you're used to people telling you that."
"They rarely dare," she mutters under her breath.
I flutter my lashes in confusion.
"I have an overprotective brother." She waves her hand dismissively as if that's what all brothers do. "I'm Thea, by the way. What's your name?"
"Lucero." I smile warmly. "But you can call me Luce."
"Nice to meet you, Luce. Are you ready for the big adventure?" She squeals excitedly.
"Uhm... What big adventure?" I ask warily.
"What? The Game, of course! We're here for the Game!" She presses her hands together as she directs her gaze to the empty stage. "It's going to start soon."
"What Game?" I frown.
She suddenly sobers up as she turns to me.
"You don't know?"
I shake my head slowly.
"Then why are you here?"
"I couldn't get rid of the invitation." I strain a smile. I can't very well tell her I'm on the run from the police, can I? At least this is a half-truth.
"Odd. That's not how it usually happens."
"What happens?"
"Never mind." She shakes her head. "It's a game of wishes. You were specifically chosen to compete for the chance of getting your wish fulfilled."
"I don't understand."
"You will." She winks at me. "Soon enough, everything will make sense."
That sounds ominous. Is this some type of organ harvesting ring? Did they lure us out here because of our medical history? I've just gotten out of the hospital. It would have been so easy for them to get my medical records. It wouldn't be the first time I've heard of something like this, where they lure unsuspecting—usually desperate people—with the promise of wealth, only for them to never be heard from again.
Anxiety prickles under my skin as all my senses become high on alert.
Oh, good God, did I escape a murder attempt just to be dissected for my organs?
My palms become clammy as I keep a forced smile on my face, all the while planning for an exit. From what I can see from my angle, the only way out is through the door I came in. But there should be some type of emergency exit, no? Aren't there regulations for clubs to have multiple exits?
"So what's your wish?" Thea continues happily, not noticing my darkening mood or my slow descent into a full-blown panic attack.
"Uh, I," I stammer, my eyes wildly seeking a way out. "Do you know where the restroom is?"
"Sure. It's right behind the stage." She points out to the back. "But don't take long. The event's about to start."
I nod awkwardly, standing up and doing my best to wade through the throng of people without jostling my frail arm. Up close, I'm even more surprised by how real these costumes look. Why, the fur feels like genuine animal fur! I jostle my way through the crowd, but as I near the other end of the room, I stop, shocked at one girl's costume.
She has a beautiful white fluffy tail that sways in rhythm with the music.
"Is it mechanical?" I can't help but ask.
"Huh?" Her brows shoot up.
"Your tail." I point to it just as it moves in a slow circle. "Wow," I whisper.
"What are you on about?" She frowns, staring at me strangely.
"How do you move it? Do you have a remote control for it?" I ask as the fluffy end brushes against my right hand. It's so soft and cute! Oh my, I'd love a purple one...
"Shut the fuck up, human ," she sneers at me, and I belatedly realize that she wasn't inviting me to pat her tail. She was swatting me away.
A yelp escapes me as I jump back, blinking furiously in an attempt to understand what I'd done wrong. But even as I open my mouth to apologize, the girl glares at me belligerently.
"Uhm, I'll just...go?" I put on a fake smile as I slither my way back, putting distance between us. A little hopping, dodging, and ducking, and I make it safely to the end of the stage.
Was I rude? Sometimes I may mess up the words in English, but I didn't offend her—or at least I don't think I did. I release a weary sigh as I step away from the rest of the crowd.
Maybe I just came across as a creep because we were both in a crammed space and she wasn't sure of my intentions? Although the situation rests heavily on my mind, I decide my focus should be on finding an escape. But still, I don't like that my intentions were misconstrued...
Shaking my head, I continue walking, ignoring all the other cute costumes around me—even the purple ones. There's a small corridor in the back, which is eerily empty. The restrooms are on one side, but the corridor extends farther. Assuming that the emergency exit should be located at the end of the hallway, I venture deeper.
I walk for a few meters before I realize that the lights have gone out.
A sliver of fear goes down my back.
Well, damn. If I go back, I'm going to get killed for my organs, but if I go farther, I may get killed for a different matter altogether.
For a moment, I falter, stranded in the darkness. I sway lightly on my feet, a little dizzy—not sure if from fear or from the alcohol. Damn it, I shouldn't have had three cocktails either. Who knows what they put in them...
Squeezing my eyes shut, I decide to take my chances with what I may find at the end of the corridor. Maybe I'll be lucky enough to find an exit.
As I walk farther, the music becomes only a soft ringing in my ear as silence slowly envelops the hallway. Everything is so dark, I can't even see where I'm walking.
"Luce?" An echo travels down the corridor and I stop, slowly turning back as all the hairs on my body stand up. The same voice calls my name again, and pure terror grips me as I make to run.
But I barely take another step before I bump into someone.
"Ah!" I scream, reeling backward and falling down. "Don't hurt me," I whimper, squeezing my eyes shut and defending my face with my right arm while my left one hangs limply to the ground.