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“Caspian pulled some strings and managed to secure VIP tickets for us,” he explains, “And with VIP tickets come VIP parking privileges.”
My jaw drops.
How much influence do both of these men have?
We step out of the car and toward the entrance. I can feel the weight of the attention from the surrounding crowd as eyes track our every move. The flashes of cameras are blinding, and I avoid looking. It’s as if we were celebrities.
It’s an unusual and exhilarating experience, if only for the duration of this event.
“Mr.Cathorn!” As the crowd’s attention turns toward Darian, I blink. Among the sea of faces, a young woman’s enthusiastic greeting stands out, addressing Darian by name.
He acknowledges her with a friendly wave, flashing his charismatic smile to those around us. I’m lost in my own mind as I scan through the faces of people snapping photos, waving excitedly in our direction until a gentle tug on my hand pulls me from my reverie.
Darian interlaces our fingers comfortably, and I follow his lead.
“Are you this well known because of the building you own on the coast?” I ask.
Darian meets my gaze, his expression relaxed, “Among other things. I’ve just gotten used to it honestly.”
I set aside my line of thought and focus on the present as we explore the bustling kiosks showcasing beautiful clothing, art, and model items.
The pop-up food shops catches our attention, and we snag a bag of popcorn as we continue our search.
An hour slips away, and a flicker of doubt starts to creep in.
We had been relying on Caspian’s guidance but what if he was wrong?
Suddenly, I come to a halt, the familiar sensation tugging at my senses. Darian notices my abrupt stop and turns, his eyes scanning the surroundings with growing realization.
The pull intensifies, its force gradually increasing as I remain rooted in place. The sensation becomes almost tangible as if an invisible thread is dragging my very being toward it.
I adjust my stance, shifting my weight ever so slightly to alleviate the mounting pressure.
“I think someone is wearing it or has brought it here.” my voice barely audible as I press my palm flat against my core in a failed attempt to calm it.
The all enveloping pull takes an abrupt turn, causing a surge of pain to ripple through my body and I gasp.
Fuck. They’re moving away.
Clutching onto Darian’s arm for support, my words are thick with desperation. “We have to head in that direction. If they keep going further, I won’t be able to walk.”
His arm loops securely through mine, as I guide us toward the source. The pain subsides, leaving behind a lingering pressure, pointing me in the direction I need to go.
As we push through the crowd, I scan peoples attire and accessories, and searching for any sign of the amulet or even a chain around someone’s neck.
My eyes widen as they lock onto a cosplayer, their appearance reminiscent of a robot from an anime or a Transformer.
The details of their costume and the way they carry themselves draw my attention like a magnet, as if the amulet’s presence is intertwined with their every move.
Squeezing Darian’s hand to grab his attention, I tilt my head in the direction of the costumed individual. Following my line of vision, he releases my hand and strides purposefully toward the person in question.
I hold my breath as I witness the two exchange words. The cosplayer, their face partially obscured by the mask, lifts the front of it.
My heart thunders as they reach for a chain hanging around their neck and begin to unclasp it, revealing the amulet before holding it out.
Darian flashes a charming smile, pulls out his wallet and carefully counts out a banded stack of bills, folded neatly, and passes it over to the cosplayer who simply looks shocked.
With the amulet secured in his grasp, and a grin lighting up his handsome features, he passes it to me with a wink.
