Chapter 004

Bianca's POV

My chest heaved as I stared up at the figure standing over me. At first, I didn't see his face, all I could see was the black cap and his back facing me.

He didn’t move.

For a terrifying second, I was sure this was it. I squeezed my eyes shut, bracing myself for the worst.

But nothing happened.

Cautiously, I cracked one eye open. He had turned to face me, he wasn’t reaching for a weapon. He wasn’t even looking at me with anger or malice. Instead, he bent down, and he brought something out of his back pocket.

My purse.

I hadn’t even realized I had dropped it.

He held it out to me, his fingers barely grazing the leather.

I hesitated. My body was still locked in fear, every instinct screaming at me to run. But as I looked up at him, really looked at him, I realized something—

He wasn’t like the men I had seen earlier.

His stance was different. Relaxed, almost casual. His dark eyes weren’t cold or threatening. There was something else there, but not dangerous.

I swallowed hard, slowly pushing myself up. My knees throbbed from the fall, but I ignored the pain. My hands trembled as I took the purse from him, clutching it tightly against my chest.

“Thanks,” I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper.

He didn’t say anything. Just gave me one last look before turning around and walking away.

I stood frozen, watching his figure disappear down the street.

Who was he?

And why did he help me?

I didn't have the time to think about it. I needed to get home.

Taking a shaky breath, I turned and hurried back the way I came. My legs felt weak, but I forced myself to keep moving, my eyes darting around nervously. Every shadow, every passerby made my heart jump, but no one followed me.

By the time I reached my apartment, my hands were still shaking.

I locked the door behind me and leaned against it, exhaling a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.

I was safe.

For now.

*******

I arrived at the club early, determined not to mess up again. “Don’t blow this second chance, Bianca,” I whispered to myself as I stepped into the manager’s office. But it was empty.

As I turned to leave, something caught my eye on the desk—a thick envelope. Before I could take a closer look, the door swung open. The manager burst in, locked in a heated embrace with one of the male staff.

I froze, thinking of ways to slip out unnoticed. But before I could move, the manager spotted me. She pulled away, slightly flustered, but quickly composed herself.

“Sorry,” I mumbled. Stepping back. “I’ll come back later.”

“No need,” she said, straightening her clothes. “Here, take this.” She handed me an envelope. “And this.” She passed me a slip of paper with an address scrawled on it. “I would have done it myself, but I’ve got things to handle here. You’re the best person for this.”

I held up the envelope, confused, “what am I doing to this?”

“You are seriously asking me that question? You are to deliver it, dummy.” She said in a pissed tone.

“Oh! Sure, I’ll deliver it. Anything else?”

“Pick up your pay on the way out. And hurry. The club opens soon.”

I left the office, envelope in hand, a slight unease bubbling in my stomach. “This is crossing a boundary, I didn't come here to make deliveries.” But I pushed it down. At least she’s not as scary as yesterday, and I have my job back. Small victories, right?

The building I arrived at was huge, imposing, and very quiet. I pressed the button by the gate, and it opened automatically. As I walked in, I heard voices—male voices, loud and lively, but the place wasn’t as simple as the manager had described. There were too many doors, and I had no idea which one to take.

I tried calling her, but she didn’t answer. The clock was ticking, I was already cutting it close for my shift, and the last thing I needed was more trouble.

“I'm not seeing anyone to deliver this to here, who do I….” She ended the call before I could finish what I was saying.

“I hope she doesn't forget she sent me here.” I thought as I pushed the front door open and was immediately hit by the strong smell of cigarettes. Men sat at various tables, drinking, their conversations a low rumble. My eyes swept the room, searching for someone to help me with the direction.

And then, I saw one of the men from the club. “Shit!”

My phone rang, and I answered immediately.

“I had to choose between you or my life,” the manager’s voice crackled. “I had no choice.” Then, the line went dead.

“This is a trap.”

I spun on my heels and headed for the door, but two large men now blocked the exit. I tried to move past them, but they didn’t budge.

“Going somewhere?” one of the men said.

I didn't answer, I just tried to move past them again, and one of them pushed me back.

The envelope slipped from my trembling fingers, hitting the ground with a soft thud.

The contents spilled out.

My breath hitched.

It was stacks of cash. More than I had ever seen in my life.

A photo slid out on top. My stomach turned when I saw it, It was me. Taken from outside my apartment.

I stood up again, but before I could move, one of the men pushed me back again.

“What is—” The words died in my throat as a deafening gunshot rang out.

One of the men in front of me collapsed, blood spilling from his neck.