CHAPTER FIVE
~MALAKAI~
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It's over.
My life.
My secret crush.
Everything is over.
I'm trembling like a leaf on a windy day as I wait for another message that doesn't arrive. Fear dries up my lungs. I don't think I'm breathing for the several minutes that follow.
Who is the sender?
How did they access my device even though it's password protected?
Why wait until now to message me?
These thoughts are floating through my mind as my shaky fingers start to type:
'Who are you...?'
It takes a lot of courage to click send. Even breathing becomes difficult as I wait for a response.
The message ticks twice.
They read it.
I can't stop trembling. I bite on my thumb hard enough to draw blood. The sharp pain combines with the metallic taste that floods my mouth, but it does nothing to calm me.
Seconds slowly turn into minutes. Minutes into hours. And there is still no response.
The silence is worse than any threat. It stretches on endlessly, suffocating me. Every creak of the house makes me jump. Every shadow seems to move.
'What do you want?...' I type again.
I continue to check my phone obsessively, refreshing the screen every few seconds until my eyes burn.
I'm glued to my spot on the bed. Several hours have passed since my second message. They read it. And still no fucking reply.
I want to scream, but dread dries up my throat.
This person is clearly toying with me. The delay is torturing me. They know exactly what they're doing. They're letting me marinate in my own terror.
Who could it be?
I run through everyone who might have had access to my laptop. My parents? No, they barely know how to use a smartphone. Ezra? He doesn't know my password. No one knows my password.
So how?
It's almost midnight when my phone suddenly buzzes with a new message from the sender. My hands shake so violently I can barely hold the phone steady.
My eyes widen as I read.
An address.
A location.
It's already so late at night. How is it safe to leave the house at this time? The streets will be empty. Anything could happen.
But I don't have a choice. Even if it's dangerous, this stranger has my life in their palms.
I can only obey.
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I arrive at the address. It's surprisingly close to school.
Now that I'm here, I'm suddenly too afraid to enter. It's not just any building.
It's a nightclub.
The neon signs flash in garish colors, casting red and blue shadows across the pavement. Bass thumps from inside, vibrating through the concrete beneath my feet.
Apprehension settles in my stomach, and I'm sweating despite the cool night air.
Even though it's midnight, the surroundings are bustling with young people. They laugh and stumble, drunk and carefree. They have no idea that my entire world is crumbling.
My phone buzzes.
'How long are you going to keep me waiting? Come inside. I'm getting impatient.'
I flinch at the message.
This person can see me?
I look around nervously, scanning every face in the crowd. The guy smoking by the entrance. The girl checking her phone. The bouncer with the thick arms.
Any of them could be watching me.
I don't find anyone suspicious. Or maybe everyone is suspicious. I can't tell anymore.
Stepping into the club feels like I'm walking to my death.
The inside is even more flooded with people. The blaring sound of music makes it difficult to hear anything. Bodies press against me from all sides. The air is thick with sweat and alcohol.
How do I even locate this person? A hand suddenly wraps around my shoulders from behind, and I jerk around so violently I nearly fall.
Tate?
My heart is pounding so hard I can feel it in my throat. Is he the person blackmailing me?
He's grinning at me, and I clench my fists tightly, preparing myself for the worst.
"I didn't think you were the type to come to a club!"
'Well, you fucking brought me here!' I almost say aloud when Jeremiah walks towards us, extending a bottle to Tate.
Isn't this alcohol?
It's illegal, right?
"Let's make sure you have a good time!" Tate drags my arm and leads me towards the counter. He starts to pour me a drink, and I ignore his extended hand.
"Tell me what you want!" I say impatiently, unable to keep the anger from my voice.
"I'm just trying to-"
My phone buzzes with an incoming message.
I open it, and my phone nearly slips from my hand.
'Wrong person. Top floor. You have 30 seconds.'
I stare at Tate in confusion. He isn't the blackmailer.
"What's wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost."
"Where's the top floor?" I stand up from my seat so abruptly I knock over a glass.
"Why do you want to go there? The party is happening right here!"
I ignore Tate calling after me and start to race up the stairs. I only have thirty seconds.
Twenty-five.
Twenty.
My legs burn as I take the steps two at a time. The music fades with each floor I climb, replaced by the thundering of my own heartbeat.
Fifteen.
Ten.
I burst through the door at the top, gasping for air.
I'm breathing heavily. Everything is quiet up here, unlike the blaring noise from below. The silence is almost worse. It presses against my eardrums.
But this place is empty. Just a few storage boxes, some old furniture covered in sheets. Dust motes float in the dim light from a single flickering bulb.
Where the hell is the sender?
I spin around, searching the shadows. Nothing moves.
Did I get the wrong place? Did I take too long?
Then I hear it.
The sound of a door opening behind me.
The creak of hinges that haven't been oiled in years.
And a familiar voice that has my blood turning to ice.
"Are you looking for me?"
I turn around instantly to see the shadow standing in the doorway.
For a moment, he's just a silhouette. Broad shoulders. Tall frame. The light from the hallway behind him casting his face in darkness.
Then he steps forward.
Into the light.
And my heart stops.
Pierce.
Why is he here?
No.
No way.
I refuse to believe that he's the person who found out about my secret. Anyone but him. I would have preferred a stranger. A criminal. Anyone.
But not him.
"Am I so unbearable to look at?" He walks towards me slowly, each footstep echoing in the empty room. "I don't like that expression on your face."
I instinctively take a step back. My heel catches on something, and I stumble, almost losing my balance.
God, please, let it not be him.
I doubt even the Lord will be inclined to answer my prayers. What I'd done is a sin. Is this my punishment? Is Pierce my divine retribution?
Pierce takes another step forward. A cruel grin spreads across his face, slow and satisfied. Like a cat that's finally cornered its mouse.
I flinch when he grasps my chin, his fingers digging into my jaw, tilting my face up to meet his dark stare. His grip is bruising.
"Why are you silent?" His voice is soft, almost gentle, and somehow that's worse than if he'd shouted. "I thought you really needed your photos."
My blood freezes as I meet his cocky gaze.
It's him.
It's really him.
I smack his hand from my face, my entire body vibrating with anger. "Bastard! How dare you go through my laptop! It's my privacy!"
Pierce meets my glare with a smile that showcases his perfectly set dimples. He looks almost charming. Almost innocent. If you didn't know the monster lurking beneath.
"If I were you, I would change that tone." His smile vanishes in an instant, replaced by a cold glare that makes my knees weak. "Unless you want everyone to know what kind of perverted creep you are."
The words hit me like a blow and I flinched.
"You usually look so innocent," he continues, circling me slowly. I turn to keep him in my sight, but he moves like a predator, always just at the edge of my vision. "Who knew you have such a disgusting little secret." He stops directly behind me. I can feel his breath on my neck. "I guess it's really the quiet ones that have a lot to hide."
I squeeze my eyes shut, willing this to be a nightmare.
"What do you want?" My voice comes out steadier than I feel. "Since you called me here, you must want something."
I'm trembling with fear deep within. Why, of all people, did it just have to be him?
Pierce already hates me. Now that he knows my secret, he's going to make me suffer.
"I don't like talking here." He moves to stand in front of me again, studying my face with an intensity that makes my skin crawl. "It's more comfortable inside. Shall we?"
He extends his hand towards me, palm up, like he's inviting me to dance.
I scoff at the gesture. Why is he acting like a gentleman when he's threatening to expose me?
When I don't take his hand, something flickers in his eyes. Annoyance? Amusement? I can't tell.
He steps closer instead, placing a hand on the small of my back. His touch is firm, burning through the fabric of my shirt.
"Don't make me ask twice," he murmurs against my ear.
I follow him obediently. Like an animal to be slaughtered.
Walking into my doom.
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