Chapter 2.

MAEVE

Zhenya fucking Sonchev was right across from me. A sickening sensation filled my belly, seeing my ex-boyfriend's face again. Instantly, my unlit cigarette clattered to the floor, and I shrank deeper into the shadows.

My heart thudded wildly, thinking he had spotted me. But he hadn't.

No, he was too busy grinning and laughing like a maniac, walking towards the entrance with his equally creepy friend. He shrugged off his leather jacket to reveal the toned physique under his shirt, no doubt flaunting for the ladies hanging around the building. I hated him.

He had done the same thing while we were still together. Playing mind tricks on me, and humiliating me in front of other girls. His smile, which I used to think was dreamy, filled me with nothing but disgust. That face I thought was handsome, was completely obnoxious.

We had met in this club, just like this. I, finishing up my performance, and he strutted in, all arrogant like the Sonchev he was. Only back then, I had been blind to the signs. One look at his copper hair, and dark eyes, and I had fallen headfirst into my own doom.

I had nearly paid for that mistake with my life.

His friend barked a string of Russian curses, laughing loudly. He smirked, but his eyes were roaming, distracted. He was looking for something. Those eyes suddenly began to move in my direction, but I hurriedly sneaked against the shadowy wall till I was past the corner.

I took a different, darker, and much longer route to my car.

I could not go back the other way, because Zhenya could spot me, and after Marina’s absurd proposal, I did not have it in me to deal with him tonight.

The music from the club faded, as I turned the corner. The street was deserted, and its streetlights were shot, save for the single flickering streetlight that made the atmosphere more ominous. Well— the street wasn't entirely deserted, because I suddenly spotted a car sitting at the edge of the shadows.

It was huge, black and its tinted windows were sealed shut.

A chill ran down my spine, hairs rising on the back of my neck from the sensation of being watched from beyond those tinted windows. I tried to tell myself that I was being paranoid and that the car was probably empty. But a few steps down the street, and that heavy sense of foreboding weighed harder against my back.

Someone was watching me.

My heart began to race, just as I picked up my pace. With one last glance at the car, I began to half-jog my way further down the alley. In heels and a skimpy dress, it was near impossible to move any faster, but there was a terrible sense of danger emanating from that vehicle.

I was nearly out of the alley when its headlights suddenly came on. I gasped, and lost my balance, crashing hard to my knees.

“What—” I breathed, blinded by the lights when I looked back, “Who in the world—?”

In one horrifying second, I thought it was my ex-boyfriend. But that was impossible! I had just seen him a moment before! But only he would stalk me— so who was this?!

The car began to inch forward slowly, toying with me. My heels were off, and I pulled myself from the ground, running as fast as possible out of the street.

My car sat in the parking lot a few feet away. I jumped in, and locked the doors, waiting for the black car to show up from the corner.

It didn't.

A small breath shuddered out of me. There were small scratches on my palms from my fall, yet they burned like hell. Still, I had to get out of here. Jerking my car into ignition, I hightailed it out of the parking lot.

Upon stepping into my apartment, I was greeted with a sight from hell.

The lights were on. The furniture was thrown apart. Objects littered the floor. It was an absolute mess.

I covered the silent scream of horror with my hand and tentatively stepped back. There was no sign of anyone in here, so it was safe to assume that whoever had done all this was gone. Or hiding. I definitely wasn't wasting any time to find out.

Grabbing a sturdy piece of furniture, I stalked past the living room into the bedroom. It was thrashed too, but with no sign of anyone. I checked under the bed, the closet, the bathroom, and every other space of the apartment. I was alone.

I threw myself to my drawers where I kept most of the cash from my club earnings.

“Thank fucking goodness,” I gasped, holding the cash to my chest.

Nothing was missing. Not my money, my few valuables, everything was intact. Whoever had ripped my apartment apart didn't come to steal, no. This was just a message.

A warning.

My stomach plunged into bottomless depths as I grabbed my phone and called my best friend, clutching my chest with one hand.

Anya’s groggy voice rang out, “Girl, your sleep schedule is really fucking messed up for you to be calling at this hour—”

“Someone trashed my apartment.” I cut in, looking around me. “I don't fucking know how, because my locks show no signs of forced entry, but my entire apartment is ruined and broken—”

“What?!” Her voice went high on alert, “Hold on, hold on. What do you mean someone broke in—? Girl, are you alright? Do I need to call the police?!”

“No, no,” I closed my eyes, “There is no one here. I just came back from the club and saw that the place was ruined. They didn't steal anything either, so this was probably some stupid scare tactic or a warning of some sort—”

“But why the fuck would anyone do that? You didn't offend anyone, did you?”

“No…?”

“Fuck, Maeve, I almost forgot you work at a goddamn underground club! You don't need to offend anyone to have enemies in a place like that. I bet it's one of those workers acting out of jealousy or one of those fucking creepy men whose egos have been bruised by being unable to get you in their bed!”

My eyebrows furrowed, “You do have a point, but they don't know where I live, or anything about my life outside of the club. I've been really careful. Besides, if it were any of them, they would have had to break in my door to get in.”

I shook my head and went to examine my locks, “But whoever did this came in without breaking the locks, thrashed my apartment, and locked the doors back after they were done. And… something else happened tonight. Someone was watching me, following me, at the back of the club.”

“Please, please don't tell me it's who I think it is.”

“Zhenya.” I sighed, “It's the only possible explanation. He knows how to navigate my apartment, even if I change the locks so often. He's a creep, so things like this are typical of him. I saw him in front of the club, and I took another route to my car. But then a car started following me.”

“He followed you?!”

“That's the thing.” I frowned, “I didn't even see who was stalking me. It was a big, black car. It looked incredibly expensive, more than anything Zhenya owns, and you know he’s rich. I never felt such chills in my entire life. Whoever was in there…they were taunting me.”

Anya sounded unsure, “But who else could it be, if not your fucking ex? I’m coming over to your place for the night. You can't be thinking of staying there all alone?”

“No, Anya, you don't have to come all the way over. It'll dawn soon anyway, I'll be fine.” I protested, “Besides, I have some spare locks to drill into my door for now, before I get them completely changed. No one is getting in tonight.”

“You think some damn locks can keep that obsessive, psychopath ex of yours out?! He nearly killed you, Maeve! All because you broke up with him! And till now not even the police could give you justice.”

“He's a coward, hiding behind the connections of his mafia family. He's the damn fourth son, a complete loser.” I tried not to let the trauma bubble out. “I don't want you to get hurt. If that bastard couldn't kill me once, he can't do it again. So, go back to bed, Anya, I'm okay.”

“I hate it when you're right. Please keep your phone close, and call me at the slightest sound.”

I glanced at the red scratches on my palm, “Okay.”

With more persuasion, I was able to end the call and add the locks to my damn old door. By the time I was done, I was panting and exhausted. My limbs felt like stone, and my bruises and scratches were burning.

I picked my way through the mess to the bedroom and promptly collapsed on my slashed mattress and the shredded sheets. Tomorrow, I would let myself drown in worry about how I would replace my destroyed possessions.

For now, I'd had enough for one night.

I woke up with a start, staring at the bright daylight streaming in through the curtains. I blinked, groggy, achy, and ready to collapse headfirst back into my sweet slumber. After all, it felt like I had only been asleep for a minute.

“Too soon,” I mumbled, settling back down.

But something didn't feel right. At all.

A car honked outside, jolting me right back up. The strings slowly connected in my brain. Car. Day. Traffic.

Work.

“Oh my god, I'm late!” I screamed, jumping out of bed, still in my red dress and everything. At that moment, I forgot about the chaotic state of my apartment and promptly tripped over a fallen chair.

I landed on my aching scratches from last night, barking out a string of curses that would make even mafia men wince.

My bruises were the least of my problems, because showing up at the law firm by 10 AM, on a damn Monday morning, was definitely going to be ugly.