6. 6 – Alyss
6 – Alyss
F rowning, I glance up at the warehouse. It looks empty, dark and abandoned. Several broken windows don’t show any light shining through.
Maybe I wrote it down incorrectly.
I glance behind. The rear lights of the cab I persuaded to drop me off down here are barely visible in the distance.
I can’t say I particularly blame him. Forcing my limbs to relax, I stroll toward the tall, ominous building with a sigh. No point leaving before checking it out.
My eyes travel along the dirt floor before I pause.
Footprints. Several of them, but others show faint edges beneath, as if—
As if they were stamped down, but someone else passed through.
“Looking for something?” A voice filters through the dark, and I still.
Another voice. “Or is something looking for you?”
Laughter. Low, threatening laughter.
The men emerge slowly from the darkness. Scruffy and nonchalant, they spread out around me, even as I try to back up, my heels digging into the dirt.
You’re a fucking idiot, Alyss Lidell.
Not even a weapon on me. Not when I was planning on going to a damn nightclub. Certainly not in this dress.
Chess would be livid.
Slowly, I turn, assessing them. One, broad-shouldered and leering, nudges his friend. “Is it a sheep, or a rabbit?”
Teeth flash. “Maybe it’s a little lost bunny. Off you hop.”
They don’t seem inclined to let me leave at all. Spreading my legs out, I brace, before I tilt my head. “I’m already late. I suggest you don’t make me later.”
The group pauses at that.
Eyes sweep over me. “Late for what?”
I turn to face the one who spoke. He looks nasty, his eyes running over me in a way that tells me I need to talk my way into that club and fucking fast.
Assuming they know where it is. If it’s even here.
It has to be here.
Sighing, I cross my arms and stamp my foot on the ground. “Honestly. He told me it would be here.”
More glances. “What would?”
I wave a hand nonchalantly, pitching my best airhead impression. “Some club. He told me it was the best club. I only go to the best.”
The nasty one takes a step forward. “And have you got a ticket for this club?”
I roll my eyes. “He told me I just had to give his name.”
Laughter. “Someone lied to you. What was his name?”
Taking a breath, I send him a mental apology. “Hatter.”
It’s the only card I have to play. The laughter cuts off immediately, a level of tension replacing it that makes my muscles tighten all over again.
“ Hatter told you to come here?” The nasty one smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “You sure about that, little bunny?”
I hold his gaze. “I’m sure. He’s waiting for me inside.”
He throws his head back in a cackle at that, even as the others swap uneasy looks. One of them glances at Nasty. “Rook. If Hatter is waiting for her…,”
He chortles. “Oh, I’m not stopping her.”
He waves toward the empty warehouse, teeth gleaming. “Go ahead, little bunny. Welcome to Wonder.”
I slip between them, braced for a fight, but they do nothing but watch as I walk slowly up to the dark entrance. A noise sounds in the distance, a bang, and their attention slips from me as I enter.
Not much of a club. The hall I walk down is quiet. The only sound is my feet tapping against the floor, small clouds of dust puffing up in their wake. I steel my nerves as I approach the doormen waiting at the end, but they pay me no attention.
Instead, they slowly pull the doors open. Light spills out across the dusty floor, accompanied by the roar of music and a crowd.
Wonder.
It hits me in a rush, an injection of adrenaline straight into my veins. Color, vibrant color , is everywhere I look. The abandoned warehouse has been transformed, taken and twisted into something that reminds me of one of the old fairy tales my father used to tell me at bedtime.
My head cranes up as I stare at the mushrooms, easily fifteen feet tall that tower above my head. They dot throughout the space with dancers suspended between them, their bodies moving with fluid grace as they spin through the air.
One dancer sweeps over my head, the crowd gasping as wings spread out from her back. Masked and mysterious, she sweeps high above the crowd, trailing purple and silver in her wake.
A pop sounds. Cheers ring out as fireworks erupt inside the walls, golden sparks of light in every corner.
Everywhere I look, there’s decadence. I stay where I am for a moment, absorbing it.
Adam would have loved this place.
He loved anything vibrant, anything that reflected the light that shone so brightly inside him – the light that made him a joy to be around.
He would have blended in well in a place like this.
Even with my sleek black dress, my hair intentionally tousled and my eye make-up dark and smokey – I don’t fit in here.
I’m too dark. Too broken.
Slowly, I make my way into the moving, pulsing crowd. Bodies shift and move together, ecstasy on their faces – from the music or something else.
I brush up against someone’s back, stepping away with an apology. The man sweeps bleary eyes over my head, not caring, just as two hands land on my shoulders.
The grip is secure, but not tight. A little too firm.
My hackles rise.
A mouth brushes my ear. “Care to dance?”
Instinctive refusal hovers on my tongue as I turn.
The man surveying me doesn’t fit with the glass-eyed crowd around us either. This man has olive skin and sharp dark eyes that watch me intently, without any hint of the clouded look the others wear. He lifts a hand, running it through already rumpled black hair as I scan him, taking in his sleekly muscled shape.
A dancer, maybe.
Because he’s not like the others. There’s something other about him, some sense of off that makes him stand out against the horde surrounding us.
Belatedly, I realize that I’m staring. His lips twist up into a sly grin, and my cheeks… flush.
He offers his hand, one eyebrow raising. “Ever been to a nightclub before, sweetheart? Here, we tend to dance.”
I try to force the scowl off my face as I slip my fingers into his, but the flare of surprise in his eyes tells me he’s seen it anyway.
He pulls me closer, one hand closing over my bare back as the other clasps my hand. “What’s your name?”
“Alyss.” I glance over his shoulder, searching. “Yours?”
“Buck.” He moves with an intensity that I didn’t expect… but he’s not a dancer. A little too jerky. And his fingers… they tremble in mine. My grip tightens instinctively.
His gaze drops from scanning the crowd to my face, jaw tightening. “Who did you come here with?”
“A friend.” The song ends, surging into a new one that draws roars of approval from the crowd. Around us, people start to bounce, but Buck doesn’t stop his swaying. Instead, he hums for a few moments, low and melodic, a clash against the pulsing beat around us.
I study him, following his lead. “Have you been coming here long?”
His lips tug up as he shrugs, his teeth flashing in a smile. “For a while. Long enough to recognise a pretty new face when I see one.”
Long enough.
Inhaling, I reach into my dress, and his brows drop. “A little soon, but—.”
His face changes as I tug out my phone.
Suddenly, hard hands grip mine, covering the phone in my hand. Buck’s head twists as he yanks me along, backing further into the crowd as he leans down.
“Are you insane ?” he hisses, still gripping me. “You can’t bring a fucking phone in here. You should know that if—.”
He stops, his head jerking back as he scans me again. “If you received an invite. Who the hell are you? Why didn’t they stop you at the door?”
I twist, trying to pull away, but he doesn’t let go. “ Answer me .”
I push into him this time, knocking him off balance for long enough to rip my arm free. I press the button on my screen to make it light up and shove it under his nose.
“I’m looking for information about my brother.” I force the words out quickly as Buck pauses. “I think he came to Wonder six months ago. Did you see him?”
Buck barely glances down and away from the photo, his voice hard and flinty. “No. You need to leave, now.”
There’s no shaking in his hands now, only steel, as he wraps his hand around my wrist. “Don’t fucking struggle, for the love of God. You’ll only draw more attention.”
“I’m not- stop .”
But he doesn’t. He drags me along the dancefloor, cutting through the crowd as he heads toward the double doors of the entrance.
My eyes catch on them as I try to pull away, and then—
I look again. “Why the hell are the doors locked?”
But Buck has stopped too, tension lining his tall frame as he swears beneath his breath. “I forgot they did that.”
I stare at him. “How do you forget that you’re locked in a warehouse that definitely isn’t up to code?”
But my words wash over him as he turns, his head scanning before he jolts. “ Fuck .”
“What?”
He swings back to me, hands raising to grip my face. “Sorry, sweetheart. Play along if you want to live.”
What the actual fuck —
My mouth opens, but Buck slams his lips over mine as I inhale in surprise. His arm wraps around my back, the other delving into my hair as he pins me to him, not pulling back despite my struggle.
I try to force my knee up, hampered by my fucking dress, but his grip tightens, as if in warning.
Play along if you want to live.
I swallow as Buck’s tongue sweeps between my lips. He tastes faintly of mint, the dark stubble covering his lower face brushing against my skin as he angles my head.
He’s moving, pushing us back into the crowd as I blindly follow his lead, but he doesn’t pull away, doesn’t pull his lips from mine.
I force myself to relax. To settle against him, languid and loose as my hands slip up to his neck. Buck’s fingers loosen for a moment – as if in surprise – before they tighten again, pulling me against him and tightening his hold in my hair.
But his lips, the harshness of his kiss…
That softens, into something gentler. More questioning.
More tempting.
The air around us turns cool, the music dampening as he pushes us through a doorway.
When he finally releases me, we’re both breathing deeply, the space around us quiet. Only the faintest hint of bass echoes beneath my feet. They must have some sort of soundproofing in place.
We stare at each other before his lip quirks. “I might have let that go on a few moments longer than was strictly necessary.”
My brows draw down, but he’s already turning. “Come with me.”
Glancing down the dark corridor, I keep my feet planted firmly where they are. “I feel like if I’m going to die, it’s probably going to be this way rather than on the dancefloor.”
“That’s what you think.” He notices my watching his shaking hands and curls them into fists. “I’m going to—,”
I hear it a half second before he does, twisting.
Footsteps.