"How much of a problem do you think it would be if we went to the club?"
How was Alexander supposed to ask what the hell she was thinking without setting her off?
But she couldn't seriously want to go to the club tonight—after everything that happened.
Right?
After what they'd just lived through, maybe he had enough leeway to ask.
Or maybe the question itself would offend her, and that was the last thing he needed.
He paused, then turned to her.
She wore that bright, determined excitement, like she already knew how this would end.
Alexander drew a breath and took his chances.
"Why do you want to go to the club tonight, after everything you heard today?" he asked, keeping his voice steady and gentle.
Ayla was ready with a reply.
"Simple. I've never been able to go. I've always been on the run, so it never seemed like an option".
Sympathy softened his face.
That was not what she wanted, but she expected it.
She'd spent her life as an escape artist, always moving, never unwinding, never just… having fun.
He understood why, but he really hated the timing.
"Why tonight?"
Ayla's smirk deepened.
Of course, she had a reason.
"What better time than when I have help and support to make sure that I'm okay while I do?"
Alexander rolled his eyes.
For someone with incredible survival instincts, she hadn't been showing them lately.
He rubbed his forehead, already running through everything that could go horribly wrong.
"You do realize the guy from earlier will probably be there. And there's a fifty-fifty chance the other two bozos show up with him, right?"
She just nodded her head like it didn't matter, still wearing her smirk.
All he could do was sit up and pull her into his arms, tight.
He was even more conflicted, because he didn't want to tell her no.
"If I remember correctly, you've been running for them for a long time. Now, all of a sudden, you don't care if they see you. What changed"?
Ayla shook her head.
"Oh, no, I care. I really don't want them to see me. That part you have mistaken".
He frowned, still not getting it fully.
"Then why do you want to chance going, letting disaster strike you for a little fun"?
She laughed.
"Because nothing's changed for me," she said. "I'm not going to sit in one place and wait for disaster to strike. I'm going to live."
Her words hit him like a slap.
"Nothing's changed?" He stared at her.
"Everything's changed. You have me now. So why would we run toward danger?"
She grabbed his hand and squeezed it.
"Exactly, I have you. At one point or another, they'll find me. Even here." Her grip tightened slightly, "I want one night. If they're there, we deal with them. If they're not...then we get to have fun."
Ayla started jumping to her feet as if the matter was settled.
"What's the point of hiding here and letting life pass while we wait for them to show up?"
He had to admit she had a point, and Ayla knew it.
She just wanted him to think it was because she made a valid point, and not because she beat him with sex.
One way or another, the men chasing her would eventually find her.
She knew that.
So why not live a little in the meantime?
Besides, if any of them were at the club, Julius would've messaged by now.
Ayla practically vibrated with anticipation, and Alexander couldn't help liking this version of her—bright, fearless, alive.
There was almost a glow to her.
She was fun, happy, and making her real appearance for the first time.
For once, she didn't have to be the fierce, strong, strategic girl to survive.
After seeing her like that, Alexander had no intention of putting her back in the box for now.
She'd never gotten to be part of the town's nightlife, only a shadow throughout the town.
That night, he'd gladly hold her hand and walk her straight into it.
For years, Ayla had watched from side streets and hiding places as crowds poured into Scarlett Fever—laughing, swaying, drunk on freedom.
Her imagination would run wild with what actually happened once those magical doors of Scarlett Fever were breached.
It was as if people were swallowed up by the environment that surrounded them once they slipped inside.
Now, it would finally be her turn.
Excitement flooded her so hard she rushed Alexander out the door—so fast he left his phone behind.
Usually, it wouldn't have mattered.
Alexander and Julius rarely used their phones, and Ayla didn't even have one.
But lately they'd been keeping them close, using them to track the men hunting her.
And the moment Ayla dragged him outside, an SOS*3 text hit his screen… unheard, unread, locked back in his bedroom.
It was like someone set her shoes on fire, and she had to keep moving or they would burn her feet.
She was like a little kid trying to get to the candy shop before it closed.
He adored the anticipation and excitement that drove her and thought she was the cutest person ever, but it would have been nice to have had his phone.
Out of all the bad possibilities so far, that wasn't so awful.
One left behind phone he could manage.
What Alexander hadn't realized was how important that message was.
Neither he nor Ayla heard the ding because the door had already closed.
They walked straight toward a disaster strike, with no clue it was waiting.
Is it really living if you don't take any risks of some kind, though?
Ayla soaked up the energy of the streets as they moved with the crowd—laughter, music, voices spilling into the night.
Hand in hand, they walked at an easy pace, Ayla breaking into an occasional skip like she couldn't help herself.
Cobblestones, moonlight, dim streetlamps, it all felt almost euphoric.
Alexander didn't share the mood.
The closer they got, the tighter his nerves wound, especially when the sidewalks turned into a parade of drunken couples and reckless bravado.
'Getting the heart rate up from time to time is good for the ticker,' he told himself, 'I'm only making sure my heart's working, right?' the closer they got to the club.
It was always obvious when they were close to the club because pairs of people would randomly be found making out or inappropriately groping each other along the way at that point.
With every block, the noise swelled and the crowd grew looser, louder, more careless.
He tried to talk himself down, but anxiety kept climbing right alongside his pulse.
Ayla, meanwhile, looked perfectly calm in the moonlight, his hand in hers.
Like she wasn't marching toward a trap that he could already feel closing.
He wasn't in uniform.
He wasn't armed, and he hadn't even warned Julius they were coming.
Every step closer made him feel more exposed—like he'd left his best defense back at the apartment.
He didn't know if it was because he was going as a guest for once or if it was that he was not in uniform this time.
Whatever the reason was, he didn't feel safe.
Maybe it was the fact that there was a chance the person by his side was knowingly headed toward a potentially dangerous situation.
Knowing that, he didn't have anything with him to protect her.
Alexander was mentally kicking himself for not thinking to tell Julius that they were headed up there.
That could have given an extra layer of protection for Ayla.
How come he didn't think about that sooner?
Plus, there was his armor, aka his vest.
It was missing because he didn't take it, and he didn't like it.
All they had to do was go back and get his vest, then maybe he would feel better.
Then it was too late.
Scarlett Fever loomed ahead—a hulking metal building with huge red letters glaring down at him.
No windows.
No side doors.
Just the front entrance—built to make guests forget the outside world the moment they stepped in.
A time vacuum.
Alexander drew in a breath and followed Ayla through the doors.
Bass slammed into his chest.
Lights strobed.
For half a heartbeat, he thought maybe she was right, maybe they could disappear in the noise.
Then a hand clamped onto his wrist and Ayla's.
One hard pull—and they were yanked behind the bar, crouched in the narrow space beneath the counter.
"AAAHHHH," Ayla screamed.
Julius's face appeared between bottles and shadow.
He didn't speak—just lifted a finger to his lips and angled his head toward the front door.
Alexander bristled, "Julius—what the hell?" he hissed.
Julius only pointed, first at the tiny security camera tucked beside the shelves, then at a small monitor under the counter.
With one finger, he pointed to the surveillance camera hiding beside them.
On the screen, a man sat at the bar with a drink in hand.
Two younger men flanked him—close enough to look like backup.
Alexander's stomach dropped.
"Let me guess, the two coyote ugly idiots from last night… and Dominic."
His friend nodded in confirmation, chuckling at his description that fit so well.
"I texted you, SOS*3. You didn't get it?"
He sounded more than a little annoyed.
Alexander patted himself down, then went still.
He realized at that moment that he had left it in his bedroom.
All attention seemed to then be directed at Ayla, as he raised an eyebrow.
Ayla lifted her hands in a helpless shrug as her eyes grew larger.
"Hey, don't look at me. You're the grown man who forgot his phone."
"Really, you don't want to take any of the blame," he asked.
Her chin raised as she turned it away from him.
"Later," Alexander muttered, shooting her a look that promised an argument when they were safe.
She was blushing, though, because she knew damn well why he didn't have his phone.
Julius was tired of hearing the banter between them.
"Okay, we get it. Anyone would. Can we focus now? Thanks. Why the hell are you here?"
"Sex," Alexander smiled
Ayla's expression froze.
Julius was not amused as fire seemed to be raging inside him, maybe something a little deeper.
If Ayla wasn't blushing enough before, she was fully blushing then.
Alexander was trying his best not to bust out in laughter, remembering the seriousness of the situation.
Ayla decided to step in and answer Julius's question, swallowed hard.
"I thought if you hadn't warned us, maybe they weren't coming. I didn't think you'd already spotted them."
"Clearly, you thought wrong." Julius's stare cut to Alexander, "And you should've known better."
He wanted to make it obvious to both of them just how much they messed up.
It was hard as he hovered over the two crouched adults who seemed unsure of what to do.
At the same time, he was unsure how long he could pretend to stand there talking into an earpiece without drawing attention to the fact that they were under the bar.
He dragged a hand down his face like he was aging in real time.
"When did I become the responsible one?"
Then he slipped away to keep an eye on the room.
"I think he's mad," Ayla whispered.
Alexander wanted to wipe that note of hurt from her voice.
"He'll get over it," Alexander said softly, "He's just doing my job for once. We'll be fine, once we're not hiding under a bar."
His words landed wrong.
Ayla had promised herself she was done shrinking, done running—and here she was, tucked under a counter like prey.
"Why are we hiding?" she asked. "They can't do anything in here, not with all these witnesses."
Worry sharpened Alexander's expression.
"Sure they can," he whispered. "What are you thinking?"
Ayla nodded toward the monitor.
"Too many eyes. Too many bouncers. And the bar's between them and us."
Her gaze flicked to the screen.
"I need to know how close they are. Which one is Dominic?"
Alexander's pulse spiked.
"No," he said, sharply.
"That's a terrible idea. Julius will lose his mind, and you'll put everyone here at risk."
Annoyance filled her cheeks.
"Fine," she said. "Help me, or I'll do it alone. Your choice."
Alexander held her stare for a beat, then sighed.
"Take a few more steps over and you'll be directly in front of the one I believe Julius confronted this morning" he said, sounding defeated.
He stayed crouched beneath the counter, muscles coiled—her last resort if things went sideways.
Alexander knew the fierce, strong, determined woman was back.
He took a second to think and added a bit more.
"I'm staying down here as a secret weapon in case you need me".
His face was now planted perfectly in his hands, knowing he just had to wait for the outcome now.
Julius reappeared, muttering under his breath.
"Unbelievable. Every time I turn around, something else goes wrong. A freaking disaster."
Ayla went rigid. Julius's eyes narrowed.
"What are you doing?"
His nostrils were doing their best not to flare as his lips came together.
He straightened and walked out from behind the bar, face set, toward the three men on the other side.
Dominic blinked, all false innocence.
"Me? I'm just having a drink with my guys. Problem?"
Julius studied him, suspicion prickling.
Dominic leaned in with a smile that didn't reach his eyes.
"You look stressed. Bartenders hear everything—let me return the favor. Sit. Talk."
Julius looked at him suspiciously.
"I'm just a bartender".
"If you say so," Dominic replied, smug.
Julius kept his expression blank as he poured a drink, letting Dominic talk himself into comfort.
The two younger men—Phoenix and Raphael, if the way they watched said anything—leaned in to listen.
"It's okay, it's work stuff that I can't talk about. What about you? You look to have about the same number of problems built up. Care to talk them away while I make you another drink"?
"Maybe, if you want to listen".
Julius was not sure what he had just heard.
"Sure, if you want to talk, I can pour your drink now and listen for a bit".
"Great," Dominic said with his glass lifted.
Phoenix and Raphael abandoned their thoughts of flesh for the evening in hopes of getting more insight about what was going on.
All Raphael and Phoenix had to do was listen and pay attention now.
The night seemed to get more and more captivating as Julius listened to the stories the old man told, about missions and recon after that.
It was nice for his partners to hear too, because he didn't talk about his past, not even with them.
A life like that sounded amazing and unlike anything Julius had ever heard of.
How had he done so much with his life, and end up leaving all of that just to be sent to find one young woman?
When the man mentioned talking, he figured that would be what he meant, talking about nonsense, but he was wrong.
Julius was being told this man who life story.
That's when Dominic started talking about the sweet little baby boy that was taken from him so long ago.
At that point, Julius thought the alcohol was getting to him, so he started to take the glass away.
Minutes later, Dominic's voice dropped.
He wasn't asking for sympathy; he was confessing.
A son taken from him long ago.
All the other children too.
Searching, tracking, waiting for a lead that never stayed warm for long.
Julius's throat tightened.
"You're here looking for your son?"
Dominic nodded.
"And I'm not the only one who lost someone."
Instantly, Julius felt a twinge in his stomach.
This man was pouring his heart out to him, and he had no reason to.
He didn't give all the details, just the ones that a human would be able to hear and understand about his son.
The last thing Dominic wanted to do was scare Julius and turn him away with too many details before he was ready.
Julius was sincere when he finally spoke.
"So, you are here looking for your son"? Julius asked.
Dominic's eyes looked at him questioningly.
That made sense to him.
If he had a mission to find missing children, and his was one of them, he would prioritize his own, too.
As he thought about it, he wanted to ask questions too.
"So, if you found your son, would you keep looking for the others"?
Dominic knew it was important to answer right, but honestly.
"That would depend. If it meant harming them, no. I wouldn't stop looking for them because they all deserve to be found. There is more to it, though. Just know they all need to be found, not necessarily returned".
Julius glanced to where his friends were, trying not to make it obvious, and saw them listening carefully.
"It sounds like finding them is complicated. Why"?
He went to say more, then his attention snapped to the entrance.
For the first time that night, Dominic's mask slipped.
The scent of a different pack had entered the room, and Dominic knew exactly who it was.