Chapter 55
Alara
I feel bad for leaving Ender. The way he was looking at my mouth when he dropped the spatula made me think he was going to kiss me.
His eyes landed on my lips, and my heart started beating faster.
If he went for it, I wouldn’t have stopped him.
I’m still not sure what kind of person that makes me when I was just in bed with his other bandmates the night before.
The breakfast in bed was a very obvious attempt to impress me, and one that I appreciate. Hopefully, the dinner offer was enough to make up for having to leave so suddenly. I really just don’t like being late.
Making a good impression with Glen is important, considering I’m going to be working so closely with him and the band.
There was already so much that I wasn't able to control with this whole tour thing. This feels like a chance to help their manager see I’m not just some fling who weaseled her way in.
My babysitter for the outing, aka my security guard, offered to drive, and I opted to let him. This whole security thing is still something I’m trying to get used to. Why not let them chauffeur me around, too ?
It doesn’t take long to get to the address Glen texted me.
I’m a bit early, but thankful. You can never ever be sure how the traffic is going to treat you in Los Angeles.
I don't normally frequent this side of town, although it doesn't look too bad. There are older office-style buildings and not a ton of operating businesses. Maybe this is some kind of cheap building he rented so he doesn’t have to mess with traffic for less important people like me.
"Are you sure this is where he told you to meet him?" the guy I’ve dubbed as Security Man says.
“That's what the message says. This is where we are, right?
" I show him the phone as he rolls to a stop in front of a three-story building.
It looks like, at one time, the lower floor was a storefront with the second and third floors acting as apartments.
None of them seem to have any signs of life.
“It is, but this doesn’t seem right,” he says, and I brush him off.
Alarm bells ring deep in my gut, but I push those aside, too. This is fine. The guy could live here for all I know. Maybe he's trying to make it more convenient for himself. Nobody's going to try to do anything to me with my security so close.
"Let me text Glen to double-check before we go in," I say to try to reassure both of us.
It's not much of a suggestion, but I type out the message and less than a minute later, a text back confirms this is the right place. I’m told to take the elevator up to the third floor and make a right. The office he's in is four doors down, on the right .
Third floor. Turn right. Fourth door on the right, I think to myself.
There's a follow-up message saying I can leave my security near the elevator to keep watch. He has another guard meeting us there to escort me the rest of the way to his office. I take a deep breath and push the car door open, ready to follow his instructions.
The lobby is strangely vacant, but once inside the elevator, the nerves start to sink in.
I'm here, by myself, to meet someone who could make or break my career. He may not have the final say, but Glen holds a good bit of power in the industry, and word of mouth goes a long way. It’s second to money.
As the door pings and we step out, I turn to my security guard.
“You have to stay by the elevator."
"I'm not supposed to leave you alone," he protests, but it’s fine.
"I won't be alone. Someone is coming to meet us. You have to stay by the elevator."
"Ma'am. That's not protocol. I'm not sure–"
"It's fine. If anyone has a problem with it, they can take it up with me," I insist. "You'll be right down the hall. It's not like you're outside or something. Nobody is going to get past you if you're next to the elevator."
"I really don't think it's a good idea."
"I have to make a good impression. I can't do that if I don't follow the rules. Can't you just make an exception this one time? It's fine. I won't tell the guys. Nothing is going to happen." I play up my womanly charm, turning on the waterworks.
"Fine, but if anything seems off, I'm coming to track you down."
"Perfect!" I exclaim while eyeing the man whom I think we’re waiting for.
A stale smell permeates the dimly lit hall as he walks up to greet us.
He's wearing a black blazer, dress pants to match, and a black tie.
It's all very secret-agent-esque. He's unnaturally tall, maybe close to seven feet, and absolutely massive.
I think one of his arms might be thicker than my waist. There's something about him that I can't quite place, though.
Maybe it's his demeanor, or the lack of friendliness on his face.
Something has every alarm bell in my body ringing out. Like a dumbass, I choose to ignore it.
"Hi, I'm Alara." I smile, extending my hand, only for him to stare at it. Rude, but okay.
"Come with me, Ms. Grey." He turns quickly, expecting me to follow, and I retract my hand.
"Stay," I whisper to my own guard, who shakes his head, before I scurry off to catch up with the other guard.
He’s walking so fast, going down the hallway and turning to the left before turning down another one.
I don't know if this guy realizes, but my legs are half the size of his, and trying to keep pace with him is virtually impossible.
Also, I could have sworn the text said to turn right, and it would be four doors down the hallway.
We've walked way further than that by now .
Just before I'm about to ask, we stop in front of a door.
The guard keeps his face turned away from me as he opens the door and ushers me inside.
It's a small room, maybe twelve by twelve, with a desk almost directly in the middle.
The window across the room is open and blowing fresh air about.
It makes a few of the papers strewn about on the desk whirl around.
There's a gold photo frame facing the other direction, and a cup holding some pens and a pair of black scissors.
Everything seems very standard. Dated, but standard.
I turn to face Glen's bodyguard, ready to ask him when Glen will be here. Something different happens, though. I get a good look at the triangular scar on his forehead, and a memory flashes through my mind.
I was backing up slowly to get away from him, but my back hit the brick wall. Somehow, I let him get me alone. Why did I let him get me alone?
"I don't have any money," I tried, but the scowl on his face only deepened.
There was a scar on his forehead in the shape of a triangle that I focused on just long enough for him to cock his fist back and punch me in the face, catching me off guard. My head whipped to the side, and I collapsed to the ground, shaken up from the assault.
I come back to the moment briefly, blinking at the man in front of me while trying to keep calm. The same scar. This man hurt me.
He kicked me in the stomach over and over, the cracking of my ribs making me cry out.
The music from the bar next to us was so loud that nobody could hear my screams. He reached down and picked me up by my hair before slamming my head against the brick wall.
Stars filled my vision as everything started blurring around the edges.
“You stupid bitch. You did this. You’re the reason I’m here,” he seethed while I tried to kick and claw at him.
Everything I did was useless. He tossed my body back to the ground like nothing.
I tried to scurry away, but everything hurt.
My arms and legs wouldn't move as fast as they should for some reason, and it gave him the time he needed to step over me.
The last thing I saw before everything went completely black was a boot aimed directly at my head.
I blink back to the here and now, realizing how badly I fucked up. This is the man who put me in the hospital two years ago, and I willingly walked into a room alone with him.
"Who are you?" My voice cracks, and I back up as slowly as I can. Just like in my memory, my back hits a wall, and panic begins to take hold. "Where's Glen?"
"Do you remember me? I remember you." The man grins before lunging forward.
I duck under his arm, trying to muster up some courage.
If I don't fight, he's going to kill me.
He didn't kill me before, and he's here to rectify his mistake. He probably saw my face from one of those articles and tracked me down. It’s not that hard to find someone's phone number if you’re looking for it. How could I be so stupid ?
His arm swings in my direction again, except this time I turn to face him and swing my foot up to the tender place between his legs. Go for the weak spot in times of crisis.
"You BITCH!" he calls out just before my fist connects with his throat, and he hunches over in pain.
It's not going to be enough to fully take down a man of his stature, but I’m really freaking hoping he will stay down long enough for me to get the hell out of here.
"HELP!!" I scream, hoping someone will hear from the open window as I rush toward the door.
Fingers tangle in my hair, ripping my head backward just before I’m able to reach for the handle.
My limbs flail about, feet kicking some of the items off the desk as he whips my body around.
He throws me on the floor, and my palms land in broken glass.
I guess I kicked the photo frame during my struggle.
Blood instantly begins to flow from the cut I end up with in the center of my palm, but adrenaline keeps me moving.
I find a piece big enough to grab ahold of as he grips my ankle and drags me in front of him.
I whip my arm out and manage to slice the side of his face, making blood splatter over both of us.
”Oh, I’m really going to enjoy this now.” He slaps me across the face, and that familiar set of stars starts to cloud my vision. “Stop fighting, and let me get this over with.”
"Please," I beg, but it doesn't stop him.
He hits me again and then kicks me. I feel just as hopeless as I did two years ago.
There's nothing I can do. I'm going to die here, is all I can think as my heart slams in my chest. He stands, watching as I try to crawl when I catch sight of the scissors in the corner of my eye.
They're just out of reach, but if I can get to them without him realizing, I may have a chance to defend myself.
"It's a shame. I wanted to keep you for myself, but he wouldn't let me." He takes a step closer, and I slide backward toward the silver blades. "He said you’re too risky, that you would ruin everything."
"You don't have to do this," I plead. "Who are you working for?"
"I think he might be right. I do like a little spunk, but even after all this, you still can't keep your mouth shut."
He lifts his foot in a half-assed attempt to kick me, but I lean to the side, dodging it.
My fingers curl around the pair of scissors behind my back, and a renewed sense of hope floods through me.
My eyes stay on the tall man bleeding from his face as I try to open them with one hand.
They will be sharper if they aren't together.
"You would have been a fun toy. I would have enjoyed trying to break you."
I get the scissors in a position where I feel secure enough and leap forward, plunging them directly into the meaty part of his thigh.
Using all my strength, I pull the blade out as he cries out.
He brings his hand down to cover the bleeding hole in his leg, and I stand.
My legs wobble a little, but with him bent down, I manage to stab him directly in the neck this time .
"FUCK!" He stumbles back as I rip the scissors from his skin again. "You fucking stabbed me."
I know I did. I step forward, doing it again as I see red. Over and over, I plunge the scissors into various places in his body. First, his gut. Then his arm and his chest. The adrenaline is the only thing keeping me moving as the need to protect myself takes over.
When he falls to the ground, struggling to breathe, I stop. My eyes go wide, body frozen in place as my hands tremble. He lifts one arm, gasping for air, and I scurry backward. The scissors fall to the floor at the same time I hear someone pound on the door.
Fear takes over, again. My heart races, panic overwhelming me.
There's no way out of here without facing whoever is on the other side of that door.
I fall to the floor and crawl under the desk before tucking my head between my knees and hoping that somehow, some way, I'll make it through all of this alive.
When I hear the door burst open, I squeeze my eyes shut, completely terrified. I brought down one guy, but took a beating in the process. How am I supposed to keep fighting?