69

Damon

Finally, when the last bullet casing hit the ground, the only sound was the steady thumping of the beat. It served as a driving force, matching my steps as I made my way up the stairs to the second floor of the club.

A hallway greeted me, its lights flashing from blue to green to purple, hurting my eyes. Doors were placed at regular intervals, most likely leading to private rooms that one would pay a fortune for.

I could sense the people inside, their fear evident on their young faces. One by one, I opened each door, but none of them led to the room I was looking for. I continued until I reached the last one at the end of the hall.

Without much warning, I kicked open the door. The sight was different from the others. Instead of the red light, the room was brightly lit with a normal white one. It was decadent and gilded with gold, from the floor to the ceiling.

Seated behind the desk was a man about my age. He looked surprised, making me think that the room was soundproof.