In a blur of chaos, I realized they were all coming for me. My pulse thundered in my ears as panic seized me.
My legs refused to move. And then, just as my vision blurred and darkness began to swallow me, I felt someone grab my hand.
"You shouldn't be here," a deep voice whispered, firm but urgent.
Everything went black.
When I opened my eyes, I was lying on a grand, king-sized bed, the silk sheets cool against my skin. The room around me was enormous, every inch radiating wealth and opulence.
Golden chandeliers sparkled overhead, and the walls were adorned with intricate patterns and framed paintings that looked like they belonged in a museum.
I sat up slowly, rubbing my temples. My head felt heavy, as if I'd been asleep for hours—or maybe days.
I slid off the bed and began wandering through the house. It was eerily quiet, my footsteps echoing against the marble floors.
From the velvet drapes to the carved wooden furniture, everything in the house screamed luxury. But despite its beauty, there was something unsettling about the emptiness.
When I reached the living room, I paused. The sofa—a stunning piece crafted from the finest leather—looked almost too perfect to sit on, but my legs gave out, and I sank into it.
The memories of last night came rushing back. The club, Devour. The strange crowd, the eerie energy, the whispers that lingered in the air like a warning.
None of it made sense. The people in that place—they didn't look normal. Their gazes were too sharp, their movements too synchronized. And that woman in the crimson dress...
My thoughts were interrupted by the shrill sound of my phone ringing. I jumped, fumbling to pull it from my bag. The screen flashed Jane's name.
"Leighton!" she shouted the moment I answered.
"Are you okay? Where the hell have you been?!"
"I'm fine," I said, my voice shaking despite my effort to sound calm.
"Fine?!" Jane practically screamed.
"Where were you last night? I waited at the club for hours, and you weren't at the dorm either!"
Her words hit me like a brick.
"Last night?" I repeated, confused.
"Yes, last night! Where were you?"
I froze. The realization hit me hard—I had no idea where I was or how I'd gotten here. My mind raced for an excuse.
"I... I was hospitalized," I blurted out, my voice trembling.
"What?!" Jane's voice was sharp with concern.
"Why didn't you tell me? Are you hurt? What happened?"
"I passed out," I lied, trying to steady my voice.
"I couldn't contact anyone, but I'm fine now. Really, you don't need to worry."
"Where are you now? I'm coming to get you," she insisted.
"No!" I said quickly.
"I'm about to be discharged. I'll come find you later, okay?"
"Are you sure?" Jane sounded doubtful, but I didn't give her a chance to argue.
"Yes. I'll explain everything later. Promise."
I hung up before she could ask more questions.
Leaning back into the sofa, I let out a shaky breath. What did happen to me? Who brought me here? And why couldn't I remember anything clearly?
I decided to leave and find answers. I walked to the front door, but when I tried to open it, it wouldn't budge. It was locked.
"Great," I muttered under my breath. Panic started to creep in again. I checked the windows, but they were sealed tight too.
Hours passed, and the golden sunlight that had flooded the house began to fade. Soon, the entire place was bathed in shadow, and the silence became oppressive.
Then, I heard it—a car engine approaching. I rushed to the window and peeked outside.
My jaw dropped.
A deep red Rolls-Royce La Rose Noire Droptail pulled up in the circular driveway, its sleek design glinting under the moonlight. It was the kind of car you'd only ever see in magazines or at elite auctions.
The driver stepped out, and my breath caught.
A man—tall and impeccably dressed—emerged from the vehicle. His tailored black suit clung perfectly to his broad shoulders, and his dark, shoulder-length hair gleamed under the light of the driveway lamps. His face was strikingly handsome, yet cold and unreadable.
He walked with an air of authority, his movements smooth and deliberate. Without hesitation, he headed straight for the front door.
I panicked, my heart hammering in my chest. Whoever this man was, I wasn't ready to face him.
I darted back to the bedroom and flung myself onto the bed, pulling the covers over me. My breaths came fast and shallow as I lay still, pretending to be asleep.
The front door creaked open, followed by the soft thud of footsteps. They were slow, deliberate, and growing closer.
I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to keep my breathing steady.
"I know you're awake," he said, his voice smooth but carrying an edge that sent a chill down my spine.
My eyes snap open. I turned my head to find the man standing at the bedroom door, his piercing gaze locked onto mine.
"I... I don't know what's going on," I stammered, sitting up and pulling the covers tightly around me.
"Where am I? And who are you?"
He stepped into the room, his expression unreadable. "You're safe. For now."
"For now?" I echoed, my voice rising.
"What does that mean? Why am I here?"
He ignored my questions, walked to the window and looked out into the night.
"You wandered into a place you should never have entered. Devour is not a club for ordinary people."
"I didn't mean to!" I protested.
"It was a mistake. I was looking for someone—my friend."
He walked over and sat on the edge of the bed. He turned to face me, his dark eyes smoldering with an emotion I couldn't quite place.
"Mistakes," he murmured, his voice low and measured, "always come with consequences."
He rose abruptly, his movements surprisingly swift.
"You... you smelled different."
I sniffed myself, bewildered.
"Different? Maybe I didn't shower last night?" I mused.
"No," he said, the word sharp.
Shock jolted through me. Could he... read my mind?
He shook his head, a wry smile playing on his lips.
"You didn't smell like an ordinary human."
"What?" I whispered, my voice barely audible over the pounding of my heart.