97: Disguising To Trick The Enemy

Allison's POV.

The loud bass thrummed in my chest as I squeezed through the crowd. The stench of sweat and spilled liquor hung thick in the air, mingling with the sweet, artificial scent of perfume from women dancing on poles and laughing in skimpy outfits. In my baggy hoodie, oversized glasses, and cap pulled low, I blended right in. Just a nerdy, awkward boy caught in the wrong place—exactly how I wanted to appear.

I kept my head down as I made my way to the edge of the VIP section, where the real action was. Viktor Romanov, surrounded by his usual thugs and a few cheap women clinging to his arms, was seated like a king among his court. I couldn’t help but feel a cold wave of rage course through me at the sight of him laughing without a care, as if he hadn’t left a trail of bodies and ruined lives in his wake. But I couldn’t let my emotions show. Not yet.

Instead, I let my eyes wander like an awkward teenager’s would, making a show of gawking at the women dancing on stage. It was th