The sleek black car disappeared around the corner, taking Carter with it. Lina stood on the curb, the chill of the evening seeping through her clothes. Being that close to the only man she'd ever seriously crushed on, the only man who made her feel like a tongue-tied teenager, was a special kind of torture—overwhelming, exhilarating, and utterly terrifying. Another car ride might have actually killed her or, God forbid, spontaneously combust.
When he'd offered her a ride home, the word "no" had flown from her lips before her brain could even process the temptation. She couldn't risk it. Another minute in that car, hell no.
Her phone buzzed violently in her hand, shattering the silence. Bella's name flashed on the screen. Lina took a deep, steadying breath before answering.
"Hey," she managed, hoping her voice didn't sound as strangled as it felt.
"Lina! Where are you?" Bella's voice was a burst of effervescent energy. "Congratulations to us! We have to celebrate. And I need to thank my bestie, you, for all her help. You're the reason Elara is now collaborating with Aurum scents."
Lina felt a genuine smile touch her lips for the first time that evening. "I didn't do that much."
"Bullshit. You're a goddamn corporate whisperer. Now, get your ass to The Gilded Canary. I'll text you the address. Drinks are on me!"
The Gilded Canary. It was one of the most well-known bars in Eldrida, chic and notoriously expensive. A place to see and be seen. "I'll be there," Lina said, the decision feeling like a life raft.
---
An hour and several artisanal cocktails later, the world had taken on a pleasant, fuzzy glow. The anxieties of the day—Carter's intense gaze, the pressure of the meeting—had melted into a puddle on the polished floor of the bar. Bella was recounting a hilarious story about a one time client's ridiculous demands, and Lina was laughing so hard she could barely breathe.
"And then he said," Bella slurred slightly, putting on a deep voice, "this dress needs more 'star power'!" She started laughing uncontrollably. "What does that even mean? Should I glue little stars all over it? Maybe a tiny Hollywood sign on the shoulder?"
They dissolved into another fit of giggles. The bartender, with a practiced, slightly judgmental air, brought over their tab, which Bella grandly settled with a flourish of her platinum card before they'd gotten truly, disastrously drunk. That foresight was the only thread of sanity left in the evening.
Stumbling out onto the sidewalk, the cool night air did little to sober them up. It felt like stepping from a warm bath into a spinning room.
"Taxi!" Bella yelled, waving an arm at a passing yellow cab. It screeched to a halt. Bella peered into the window, her brow furrowed in concentration. "Hey… your car… it's the wrong color."
The driver, an unimpressed man with a thick mustache, scowled. "Lady, it's a taxi. It's yellow."
"No, no, no," Bella insisted, shaking her head and nearly toppling over. "My spirit animal is a… a leopard. I need a spotted car. You're not spotted." She patted the roof of the car sadly. "You're just… yellow."
The driver muttered something obscene and sped off, leaving Bella staring after it in confusion.
Lina leaned against a lamppost, the metal cool against her forehead. "Maybe we should call a ride-share," she suggested, her words blending together.
It was then that they attracted unwanted attention. A group of men, their postures radiating a lazy menace, detached themselves from the shadows of a nearby alley. They were young, dressed in cheap leather and worn jeans, their eyes glinting with predatory interest.
"Well, well, what do we have here?" one of them, a lanky guy with a snake tattoo coiling up his neck, drawled. "Looks like two little birds who've had too much to fly."
Bella, ever the social butterfly even in a state of near-blackout, beamed at him. "Hello! Are you a leopard?"
The men laughed, a harsh, grating sound. Lina felt a prickle of unease, but it was a distant, muffled feeling, like an alarm clock ringing in another room. The world was soft at the edges, and these men were just blurry shapes.
"We can be whatever you want, sweetheart," another one said, stepping closer. His breath smelled of stale beer and cigarettes.
Bella, completely misreading the situation, happily rested her head on the lanky one's shoulder. "You're very tall. Like a… a friendly giraffe."
Lina, not to be outdone in her drunken camaraderie, clung to the arm of another. "Giraffes are nice. They have long necks for… for seeing far away."
This display of utter, vulnerable idiocy was all the invitation the gang needed. They exchanged greedy, knowing looks. This was going to be easier than they thought. They could have some real fun with these two.
"Come on, ladies," the leader said, his voice slick with false charm. "Let's go somewhere more… private."
Bella and Lina, too far gone to comprehend the danger, simply nodded, giggling as they were gently, but firmly, guided away from the main street. They were crying-laughing now, a messy, emotional slurry brought on by the alcohol and the bizarre turn of the night.
Just as they were about to be maneuvered into a dark, narrow side street, a figure moved.
It was a blur of motion, too fast for their drunk eyes or the gang's complacent ones to register. One moment, the thug holding Lina had a firm grip on her arm. The next, a fist connected with his jaw with a sickening crack, and he was sprawled on the pavement, unconscious.
Chaos erupted.
The figure moved with brutal, efficient grace. A whirlwind of controlled violence. Punches landed with precise thuds, knees connected with stomachs, and a series of grunts and cries of pain filled the air. It was over in less than thirty seconds. The gang members were scattered on the ground, some moaning in agony, others completely still.
Daniel stood amidst the carnage, his chest rising and falling steadily, his knuckles raw. His cold, furious gaze scanned the downed men before settling on Lina.
They were completely oblivious. In the midst of the fight, they had found each other and were now locked in a tight, dramatic hug, sobbing.
"They're taking the friendly giraffes away!" Bella wailed.
"It's not fair!" Lina cried back. "We didn't even get to ask about their spots!"
Daniel's lip curled in a mixture of disgust and… something else. An inconvenient tug of something he refused to name. He had been driving past, had seen her—Lina—clinging to that piece of human garbage, and he had acted before his mind could catch up. Pure, unthinking instinct.
He moved to pull Lina away, to shove her into his car and deal with her, but the moment he touched her arm, she and Bella clung to each other even tighter, howling as if he were the villain trying to tear them apart.
"Don't separate us!" Lina slurred, burying her face in Bella's hair. "We're besties! We die together!"
"Fuck this," Daniel muttered under his breath. He wasn't a goddamn babysitter. He pulled out his phone and dialed his assistant. "Liam. My location. Now. There are two… packages that need securing for the night. A hotel. Somewhere discreet."
Within minutes, Liam's sleek sedan pulled up. With a professionalism that deserved a raise, he managed to gently pry the two weeping, laughing women apart and usher them into the back seat.
Daniel stood by his own car, watching them drive away. Why? The question echoed in the silent, angry space of his mind. He hated Lina. He reveled in the slow-burning plan he had to see her world crumble. Watching her get what she deserved at the hands of those lowlifes should have been a satisfying preview.
But it wasn't.
He slid into the driver's seat, the leather sighing under his weight. The answer came to him, cold and fitting, as he started the engine. He had saved her because her suffering belonged to him. It was his to orchestrate, his to savor. A quick, dirty end in a back alley was too good for her. It was an insult to his vengeance. He wasn't done with her. Not even close.
---
Sunlight, sharp and accusatory, stabbed through the gaps in the blackout curtains. Lina's head felt like it had been used as a church bell, each throb a deafening, painful clang. She groaned, forcing her eyes open.
The ceiling was wrong. It was a textured, creamy white, not her familiar off-white popcorn finish. She sat up too fast, the room tilting violently. Next to her, Bella was also stirring, her face a mask of identical confusion and pain.
"What the fuck?" Bella whispered, her voice raspy.
They were in a massive king-sized bed, in a room that screamed luxury. A plush, silver-gray carpet, a minimalist chrome and glass desk, and a huge flat-screen television mounted on the wall. This was not Lina's modest apartment. This was not Bella's cluttered condo.
They looked at each other, a telepathic horror passing between them.
"Oh, my God," Lina breathed, the night a complete, terrifying blank after arriving at the bar. "Did we… did we go home with someone?"
Bella's eyes widened in dawning terror. "An old man," she gasped, voicing their shared, worst-case scenario. "Some rich, creepy old dude who picked us up. Oh, Jesus, did he… did we… with both of us? Together?"
Panic seized them. They scrambled out of the bed, frantically checking their bodies. Their clothes—the same ones from last night—were wrinkled and smelled faintly of booze, but they were still on. Lina's body ached with a deep, familiar soreness, but she was sure, with a jolt of relief, that it was the lingering aftermath of the beating from that strange woman days ago, not… anything else. There were no other marks, no strange sensations.
"We're okay," Bella said, her voice shaky with relief. "We're fully dressed. Nothing happened."
"A Good Samaritan," Lina concluded, the tension draining from her shoulders, leaving only the pounding hangover. "Someone must have seen we were too fucked up and got us a room. Thank God."
Feeling immensely better, they used the hotel's opulent bathroom to freshen up, splashing water on their faces and finger-combing their tangled hair. They were still giggling, though now it was tinged with hysterical relief, as they headed for the lobby.
The lobby of the Velvet was a masterpiece of modern design, all soaring ceilings, waterfalls of crystal, and staff dressed in impeccably tailored uniforms. Lina and Bella, in their disheveled state, felt like two smudges on a pristine canvas.
They were almost at the grand glass doors, freedom in sight, when a polite but firm voice stopped them.
"Excuse me, ladies?"
They turned. A hotel manager with a perfectly neutral expression stood by the concierge desk.
"Yes?" Bella asked, putting on her best 'I-belong-here' voice.
"I trust your stay was comfortable?" he asked. "We'll just need to settle the bill before you depart."
Lina's blood ran cold. "The… bill?"
"Yes, for the Imperial Suite. One night."
They were flabbergasted. Their savior, their supposed Good Samaritan, had dumped them in a suite and skipped out on the payment?
"How much is it?" Lina asked, her mouth dry.
When the manager told them the figure, Bella actually let out a small, choked squeak. Lina felt the world tilt again. It was more than her monthly salary. It was more than both their monthly pays combined.
"What fucking hotel is this?" Bella hissed under her breath.
"This is the Velvet, madam," the manager said, as if that explained everything.
And it did. The Velvet. The crown jewel of the Viggo Group. A place they had only ever admired from the street, a symbol of a life they could never afford. Their mystery savior had brought them to the most expensive hotel in the city and left them with the check.
The manager, seeing their stunned, pale faces, signaled to two large security guards who materialized as if from the walls. "If you are unable to pay, we will have no choice but to involve the police."
"No! We can pay," Lina said quickly, her heart hammering. They couldn't afford it, but they couldn't afford a police record even more.
They pooled their resources right there at the desk, their hands shaking as they maxed out their credit cards and drained their checking accounts. The electronic transfer of their life savings was met with a soft, approving beep from the machine.
As they stumbled out of the Velvet, the bright morning sun felt like an indictment. They stood on the sidewalk, financially eviscerated.
"That son of a bitch," Bella whispered, her voice trembling with rage and the threat of tears. "That fucking asshole. He should have just left us at the goddamn bar."
Back inside, the hotel manager watched them go, a pang of genuine pity in his chest. He wondered what on earth those two girls had done to piss off the boss. When Mr. Viggo's personal assistant had checked them in, he'd assumed they were guests of honor. Then the direct order had come from Daniel Viggo himself: Make them pay. Every cent. If they refuse, call the police. It was a punishment meticulously designed to look like a simple, cruel twist of fate. A mystery with a very expensive price tag.