Page 94 of Mine To Hunt

He laughs under his breath. "Since now. Trust me. You’ll like it."

I study him for a second, trying to read his expression, but he just keeps driving like he didn’t say anything unusual at all.

I lean back in the seat, watching the city pass outside the window. My mind is still crowded with thoughts. But beneath all of it, for the first time in days, there is something small and unfamiliar.

Curiosity.

And I can’t tell if that feeling is comforting… or dangerous.

Chapter 30

Her

Loud music pounds through the club, the heavy bass so strong I feel it before I fully register the sound. It vibrates through the floor, through my shoes, through my ribs, settling deep inside my chest like something alive trying to shake me from the inside out.

For a moment I just stand there near the entrance, letting my eyes adjust to the flashing lights and shifting shadows, my senses struggling to catch up with everything at once.

Disco lights sweep across the room in bursts of color cutting through the darkness in sharp flashes that come and go so quickly they make the crowd look like moving snapshots instead of real people.

It is loud. Too loud. So loud that even my thoughts feel quieter than the music.

Al leans slightly toward me so I can hear him. "You okay?" He asks.

I nod, even though my senses are still catching up. "Yeah." I say, though my voice feels small compared to the sound around us.

He gives me a quick smile, like he knows I’m a little overwhelmed but also expects me to adjust. Then he gently guides me forward, his hand resting lightly near my elbow as he leads me through the crowd.

This is where he brought me tonight. A club.

Not just any club. A crowded one, full of people who look like they stepped straight out of glossy magazines or expensive advertisements.

His friends are already here, scattered across a section near the back, laughing loudly and talking like they own the place. Even from a distance, I can tell they belong to a different world than mine.

There’s a certain ease in the way they sit, the way they gesture, the way they hold themselves. Confidence that doesn’t come from personality alone. Confidence that comes from money, from status, from never having to question whether they belong somewhere.

As we get closer, I become more aware of my own clothes, my own posture, the way my hands hang slightly awkwardly at my sides. Al told me at least three times on the way here that I looked fine. That I looked beautiful, actually. I believed him in the car.

Standing here now, I’m not so sure.

The girls in his group wear dresses that catch the light every time they move, fabrics that shimmer like liquid. Their makeup is perfect, their hair styled effortlessly, their smiles bright and practiced.

The guys look just as polished with tailored shirts, expensive watches glinting when they lift their drinks, shoes so clean they reflect the colored lights from the ceiling.

I suddenly feel very aware of the small crease in my sleeve. Very aware of how tightly I’m holding my clutch. Very aware that I don’t know where to look.

Al doesn’t seem to notice any of that. Or maybe he does and just doesn’t care. He leads me straight to the private booth near the back where his friends are gathered.

The seating curves around a low table already covered in colorful drinks and small plates of snacks. The glasses glow under the shifting lights, bright pink, neon green, deep amber, like they belong in a display instead of someone’s hand.

I slide into the seat beside Al, trying to settle in without looking stiff. The leather is cool against my skin. The music feels louder here somehow, the bass stronger, like it’s pressing against my chest from all directions.

The dance floor stretches out in front of us, packed with bodies moving together in one shifting rhythm. People sway, jump, spin, laugh.

From this distance it looks almost like a single living thing instead of separate individuals, one giant wave of motion rolling under the lights.

The energy in the room is intense. Alive. Almost addictive. And despite the exhaustion still sitting in my bones from the past few days… despite the anxiety that hasn’t fully left my chest… a small part of me feels it. That pull. That dangerous pull to let go.

I rest my hands lightly on the table and glance around again, taking it all in more slowly this time. The lights. The music. The voices. The movement. The unfamiliar world I’ve stepped into for tonight.