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Steeling myself, I took a deep breath and walked down the fancy staircase. Not having the best track record with staircases, I was wary of my last trip and hugged the corner of the railing. At the bottom floor, I nearly screamed. In the dim moonlight, it really was a funhouse of horrors. Mirrors lined the walls, a huge space with a disco ball at its center.
Trying not to walk into my own reflections that were fearfully staring back at me, I made my way around the mirrors to another bar. This one looked industrial. Million-dollar liquor, whiskeys, and wines gleamed with the light from the far window. At least these weren’t completely blacked out. I could see the street outside, lit up by a streetlamp and a few car headlights.
Where the fuck was I?
Not ever having been here, I had no idea how or why I’d ended up here. Did I sleepwalk again? Breaking and entering while I was at it? I walked to the exit, a huge neon side indicating my escape, but I heard a thumping sound before I opened the door to leave.
Curiosity getting the best of me, I walked toward another door. This one was white and looked way less expensive than the theme of the other crap in here. Grumbling, I looked to see a strange contraption acting as a lock on it.
“Damnit.” I looked around and tried to find something to disable this thing.
It had a fingerprint scanner and looked like something out of a spy movie.
Grabbing a bottle of whiskey that was probably ten times more than my apartment, car, and paycheck, I dumped it on the green lock. A sizzling and the green light flickered until making one last zapping noise before turning to black and falling to the floor with a thud.
The sound was loud, making it sound like a gunshot in the otherwise quiet room. There was a hum of the usual appliances, but I’d take that over that constant tick-tock sound at my place.
Opening the door, I wondered if I was about to star in those cheesy horror flicks with me being the moron who got eaten by a boogeyman, all because they’d checked out the noise and didn’t just leave.
The thudding was louder now, and another sound…muffled yelling? Goosebumps pricked at my skin, uncertain about what I was about to find. At the bottom of the stairs, I couldn’t see anything. I literally descended into darkness. It was even darker than the room I had awakened in.
Using my hands to guide me, and my ears to follow the thumping, I arrived at a door. This one was not locked with Inspector Gadget gizmos, thankfully. The thumping and muffled voice was so loud here that I could practically feel their body heat from the other side of the door. Opening the door, I stood still, my fear of the boogeyman stopping me in my tracks.
“H-Hello?” I said.
The thumping and muffled voice stopped.
“I’m here to help you,” I said, trying to navigate myself in this pitch-black room.
I didn’t know the condition of the prisoner, but the voice was deep, so I assumed it was a male. I could be saving a criminal who got in another criminal’s way, but I couldn’t surely leave this man here to be killed by the kinky rich people.
Catching the familiar scent of blood, I reached my hand out. Making contact with a big body, I ran my hand down, trying to locate whatever held the man prisoner.
Got it!
Smiling to myself, I undid the bindings and got hit with a fist so big I thought my jaw might have cracked. Screaming, I held my hands up to my face. The man mounted me, laying blows on my arms and sides.
I just saved a fucking hulk-of-a man, and my thanks would be death by a smashed facial bone.
“Stop!” I yelled, scooting backward, giving up on protecting anything but my major organs. “Please!”
A trance had taken over this guy. Pure survival kicked in, and he wasn’t hearing a word. Out of the corner of my eye, I thought I saw an angel. Someone with black wavy hair and a handsome face descended the stairs, but pure, undiluted rage and worry were on his beautiful face.
Suddenly, the pain stopped.
The angel collided with the devil, allowing me to scramble up the stairs.
My ribs were broken. My face was at an all-time new swollen, and each step had me crying out in pain. Making it to safety, I hid behind the bar. My body was unable to really do more than that. The sounds of fighting and grunts continued. The fight brought itself up the stairs and right across the bar.
Steeling myself, I peered around the bar.
My heart absolutely stopped.
Quinn.
Micah Quinn was the prisoner. The man who beat me to a pulp and my angel?
The shady club owner, Lucius Vasiliev, was throwing punches, both men going hard and for the kill. They were evenly matched, however, and the fighting continued with the brutal expert brawl.
