Chapter 69: Angel

I opened my messages. I found his contact.

I attached the photo. My thumb hovered over the send button. My heart was racing, a frantic drumbeat in my ears. Let’s see how you like THIS, Cassian. Let’s see you ignore me now.

I hit send.

The moment the ’Delivered’ checkmark appeared, the alcohol-induced bravado vanished, replaced by a wave of cold, paralyzing dread.

“Oh fuck,” I whispered. “Oh no. No, no, no.”

I frantically tapped the message, hitting ’Delete for Everyone.’

Too late.

The status changed. Seen. He’d seen it. He’d seen the photo of Alex Hendrix, his rival, with his hands on my throat and his lips on mine.

I sat there, frozen, staring at the screen. The little typing bubble appeared.

Cassian is typing…

My breath hitched. I could almost feel the vibration of his rage through the glass of the phone. I waited for the explosion. I waited for the text telling me I was fired, or dead, or both.

The bubble disappeared.

Nothing.

I waited. One minute. Two. The screen stayed blank. No message came through. He had seen me in the arms of his enemy and he hadn’t even bothered to reply.

The rejection hurt worse than a physical blow. It was the ultimate insult. He didn’t even care enough to be angry.

“Fine,” I hissed, shoving the phone into my pocket. “If I don’t exist to you, then you don’t exist to me.”

I grabbed the nearest bottle, something dark and expensive, and poured myself a glass. I drank it straight. Then another. I was going to drown the image of that disappearing typing bubble if it was the last thing I did.

…

“I’ll be right back,” Alex said, leaning in to brush a strand of hair from my forehead. “Bathroom. Don’t go anywhere.”

“M’not going anywhere,” I slurred, waving a hand dismissively.

I leaned against the bar, the world beginning to spin in earnest now. The music was a physical force, vibrating through my teeth. I felt warm, too warm. A strange, buzzing sensation started at the base of my spine and began to spread. My skin felt hypersensitive, every brush of a stranger’s sleeve feeling like an electric shock.

I didn’t notice them at first.

Three men. They were standing by the speakers, watching me. They weren’t dancing. They weren’t drinking. They were hunting.

I felt their eyes on me like a cold draft. I tried to move away, stumbling slightly as I headed toward the quieter lounge area, but they followed. They moved with a synchronized, predatory grace that sliced through my drunken fog.

I turned a corner near the back hallway, hoping to find the exit or Alex, but I found a dead end. A wall of mirrors and a locked door.

I turned around. They were there.

The lead guy was tall, with a jagged scar across his eyebrow and a look of pure, filtered malice. The other two flanked him, closing the gap.

“You look lost, little one,” the lead guy said, his voice a low, raspy growl.

“I’m… I’m fine,” I said, trying to steady my voice. “My friend is right there. Alex Hendrix. You know him?”

They laughed. It wasn’t a nice sound.

“Alex is busy,” the one on the left said. “We think you look like you need some new friends.”

They closed in. I backed against the wall, the cold glass of the mirror pressing into my spine. My body was betraying me. The buzzing was louder now, a frantic, humming heat that made my breath come in short, shallow gasps.

Something is wrong, I thought, the realization piercing through the alcohol. My drink. Was it the drink?

I felt a sudden, terrifying surge of arousal. It was misplaced, violent, and utterly overwhelming. My senses were dialed up to eleven. I could smell the stale beer on their breath, the cheap cologne, the sweat. I could feel the heat radiating from them. I was terrified, my heart hammering against my ribs, but my body was reacting as if it were in the middle of a fever dream.

“Look at him,” the scar-faced one whispered, reaching out a hand. “He’s shaking. He likes it.”

“No,” I gasped, trying to push his hand away. My limbs felt like lead. I was too sensitive, too raw. Every touch felt like a burn. “Get… get away.”

He grabbed my wrist, pinning it against the wall. His other hand reached for my waist. I tried to scream, but my throat felt constricted. The world was blurring into a kaleidoscope of fear and unwanted heat.

Suddenly, the man was gone.

There was a sound, a wet, sickening thud, and the guy pinning me was slammed into the opposite wall.

Alex appeared out of the darkness like a vengeful spirit.

He didn’t hesitate. He didn’t lead with words. He moved with a brutal, efficient violence I hadn’t expected from the “angelic” CEO. He caught the second guy with a sharp elbow to the throat and a devastating kick to the knee. The sound of breaking bone echoed in the narrow hallway.

The third guy didn’t stay to find out what happened next. He bolted back into the crowd.

Alex didn’t chase him. He turned to me, his chest heaving slightly, his eyes wide with a manic, protective light.

“Noah! Noah, are you okay? Did they touch you? Did they hurt you?”

He was all over me, his hands cupping my face, checking for injuries. He pulled me away from the wall, tucking me into his side. I was shaking, my vision swimming, the buzzing In my blood reaching a crescendo.

“Alex,” I whimpered, leaning into him. I couldn’t stand. My legs felt like jelly. “I… I feel weird. Everything… everything is too much.”

“I’ve got you,” Alex whispered, his voice soothing and firm. He led me toward a secluded, private booth in the back, away from the prying eyes of the club. “You’re safe now. I’m right here.”

I slumped into the plush velvet seat, my head spinning. I was safe, but I wasn’t okay. The heat in my blood was still there, a pulsing, demanding throb that made me want to crawl out of my own skin.

I looked at Alex. He looked perfect. He looked like the man who had just saved my life.

But as I leaned my head against his shoulder, closing my eyes against the spinning room, a single, agonizing thought pierced through the fog.

Cassian saw the photo.

And he didn’t come.

The “angel” was holding me, but all I could feel was the crushing weight of the devil who had let me go. And as the darkness began to pull at the edges of my vision, I realized that my reckless provocation hadn’t just failed.

It had destroyed me.

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