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When I open my eyes,something feels wrong. I look around the darkened room and notice that Quinn is gone. I sit up. It’s notjust quiet in here, the whole club is silent.
I try to sit up, but my head is heavy. I reach for my phone to send Sergio a message and to check to see if Quinn has left me any.
There's a message from a number I don't recognize.
I'm instantly awake.
I tap the message and see a video.
Quinn, dancing in the studio. Who the fuck sent this message?
I'm out of bed and on my feet, loading a weapon as soon as I see the footage. Someone's watching her in the dance studio. I try to open the door but it's locked. My head throbs, and my shoulder is in pain, but I don't fucking care. I need to get to her. I try the door again to no avail. I pound on it and nothing happens. I call one of my men.
It goes to voicemail. What the hell happened?Where is she? Ready to lose my shit, I try to call the person who sent me the video, but the call doesn't go through.
I briefly consider trying to break the door down, but I know that doesn't help. Not the way Sergio built this place.Fuck!
I open my mouth to yell Quinn’s name, to yell anything, but when nothing comes out, it's my first indication that something is wrong.
When I turn around, there's someone sitting next to me. They're shrouded in darkness. "You can't always protect her."
I sprint forward right before I wake.
I’m in a cold sweat. I'm panting, my heart pounding so fast I'm sick to my stomach.
Like my dream, I'm alone in a dark room, but I'm vaguely aware of noises outside here. Nothing I can hear in detail, but it isn’t the tomb I was in in my mind.
My phone’s plugged in on the other side of the room.
It felt so real. I push myself out of bed, groaning at the pain in my back and shoulders. I pick up my phone and flip through the messages. The only ones I have are from Sergio and Quinn.
Still, I need to see her.
I tuck my phone in my pocket and breathe a sigh of relief when the door easily opens. No one's in the hallway, though.
I call Bruce. He answers on the first ring.
"How are you, Boss?"
"Fine. Quinn?"
I don't want to waste words or time.
"She's fine, sir, she’s in the dance studio." I pick up my pace, trying to get rid of the image of the video I saw in my mind, the feeling that someone was watching her, the knowledge that I truly can't be in all places at all times. Even if I wanted to be.
I make it to the dance studio in record time, panting from exhaustion because I'm still so tired and drugged up. When I finally get there, I nearly push my guards over in my attempt to get inside, and when I open the door, I freeze.
Quinn looks so beautiful, like a flower in bloom, her arms up over her head. She wears a leotard that shows every beautiful curve of her body. My throat catches, she looks so vulnerable, so at peace.
"What happened to self-defense?" My voice is sharp, sharper than I intended.
Quinn startles, her eyes fly open, and she immediately frowns at me.
"What are you doing out of bed?" When she anchors her hands on her hips and tries to look at me sternly, I don’t cower because she's not the one that gets to do that in this relationship.
"Relax. I'm fine. I had a dream."
"A dream or a nightmare?" she asks curiously.
