"No, it's different. He knows something. I can feel it."
"You're being paranoid."
Maybe I am. Maybe the stress and fear of the past few weeks are making me see threats where there aren't any. Maybe I'm so conditioned to danger now that I can't recognize when I'm actually safe.
But then three more men appear, materializing from different parts of the crowd. They're moving through the mass of dancing bodies with clear purpose, not swaying to the music, not looking around. Just moving. Heading straight for us with the focused determination of predators who've spotted their prey.
"We need to leave," I say, grabbing Chloe's arm. "Right now."
"What? We just got here!"
"Chloe, please. Something's wrong. We need to go."
She must see the genuine fear in my face, the way my hands are shaking, because she nods without further argument. "Okay. Tiana! We're going!"
We start pushing toward the exit, trying to navigate through the crowd without causing a scene. But the men are faster, cutting through the dancers like they're not even there. They reach the exit before we do, forming a human wall between us and the door.
We stop. The music is still pounding, people still dancing around us, but we're frozen in place.
"Aurora Luca?" The one in front speaks, his accent thick Russian, his eyes cold and professional.
Oh no. Oh God, no.
"I don't know who that is," I lie, my voice barely steady.
"Yes, you do. You're the whore who spread her legs for Axel Santego. Got yourself pregnant to trap him." His words are clinical, emotionless, which somehow makes them worse than if he'd been angry.
The insults hit like physical slaps. Around us, people are starting to notice that something's wrong. Starting to back away, creating a circle of space that makes us even more exposed.
"Leave us alone," Chloe says, stepping directly in front of me with the fearlessness of someone who hasn't fully grasped the danger. "We don't want trouble."
"Too late for that." He reaches for me, his hand extending toward my arm.
Chloe punches him square in the face.
I don't even see it coming. One second, he's reaching, the next, his nose is gushing blood, and Chloe's shaking out her hand with a wince of pain.
"Run!" she screams.
Chaos erupts instantly.
The men lunge for us. Chloe kicks one in the balls with her pointed heel, and he goes down hard. Tiana's screaming, tryingto physically get between me and another guy who's reaching for me. I'm stumbling backward, people pushing and shoving around us as the crowd realizes violence is happening and scrambles to get away.
Someone grabs my arm, fingers digging in hard enough that I know there will be bruises shaped like fingerprints tomorrow.
"Axel's going to watch you die," the man hisses directly in my ear, his breath hot against my skin. "He's going to watch, and he's going to know it's his fault."
Terror floods through me, white-hot and paralyzing. I'm kicking, fighting, trying to break free with everything I have, but he's too strong. His grip is iron, and he's already dragging me toward a side exit I didn't even know existed.
Then suddenly he's on the ground, his grip torn away, and Axel's there.
I've never seen him move like this. In the garden, in the safe room, I saw him fight. But this is different. This is fast, brutal, utterly efficient. He breaks the man's arm with a sickening crack that I can hear even over the music, then moves to the next one before the first has even hit the ground.
Sergei's beside him, equally vicious, moving like violence incarnate. More of Axel's men pour into the club from multiple entrances, and I realize they must have been following us the entire time, waiting outside.
The fight is over in seconds.
The Russians are on the ground, bleeding or unconscious or both. The crowd has completely scattered, leaving just us and the bodies and the still-pounding music that seems obscene now. And Axel's in front of me, his hands on my face, checking for injuries with fingers that are shaking despite their gentleness.
