Clara's POV
The police station was colder than I remembered.
Not physically but emotionally.
The smell of antiseptic, stale coffee, and desperate lives lingered in the air like an unwelcome shadow. The fluorescent lights above buzzed sharply, stabbing at my skull. I clutched my bag tighter to my chest, trying to steady the tremor in my fingers.
I hadn't slept. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw fire. Smoke. Liam's fingers slipping from mine. My mother's scream swallowed by the roar of tearing metal. The world ending in one flash.
Detective Harper appeared in the hallway, his expression grave, and motioned for me to follow.
The walk to his small office felt like wading through mud. Deadly slow. Every step heavy with dread.
The room itself was dimly lit, cluttered with stacks of case files. A half-empty mug sat beside his computer, the screen glowing with reports I wasn't sure I wanted to see.
He gestured for me to sit. I did, back straight, jaw clenched, trying to appear stronger than I felt. Poise was the only armour I had left.
"Clara," he began, voice calm yet sharp enough to slice through the silence. "I reviewed the crash reports again. Passenger data. Aircraft diagnostics. Communications logs."
My pulse quickened. I stared at him, heart in my throat.
"I called you back in today because… something doesn't sit right with me."
The air shifted. I could feel it.
My fingers tightened around my bag strap.
"W-what do you mean?" I whispered, my voice drowned almost entirely by the old air conditioner rattling above us.
Detective Harper leaned back, exhaling slowly. "The crash wasn't just a mechanical failure."
My stomach twisted.
He continued, each word deliberate—dangerous.
"There are signs nothing concrete yet that someone tampered with the aircraft. Someone who didn't want your father reaching New York. And if they were willing to take him down…"
He hesitated, but the silence finished the sentence for him.
My mother.
My little brother.
Everyone on that flight.
A strangled breath escaped me. "You're saying… someone did this? On purpose?"
My voice cracked mid-sentence.
He nodded once. Heavy. Final. "It's a theory. But yes. And considering your father's position… his influence… it's not impossible."
My nails dug into my palm as I whispered, "Why would anyone want to hurt him? Why us?"
Harper's eyes softened. "Money. Revenge. Power. Your father was a man people either admired… or feared. Someone clearly believed his death benefited them."
The world around me blurred. For a second, I thought I would faint. My ears rang. My chest tightened painfully.
Someone killed them.
Someone wanted my family gone.
Someone stole my life.
I bit down on the inside of my cheek to stop the tears, but they came anyway silent, hot, unstoppable.
When I stepped outside hours later, the world was too bright. Too normal. Cars honked, people laughed, the sun reflected off buildings in glittering gold.
Everything felt wrong.
My family was gone.
Someone murdered them.
And now the world dared to keep spinning.
I walked for hours before heading to my morning shift at the café, numb and drifting like a ghost. After our day's shift ,Kacey begged me to come out that night. Clara, please! You need a break. One night. One drink. One dance.
I should've said no.
But after the detective's revelation, after hours of trying not to collapse, and after drowning in a pain that felt older than my bones… something inside me snapped.
"Fine," I muttered. "One night."
********
The club was beautiful looking like a living creature lights flashing, bodies moving, the bass vibrating through the floor and up my spine.
I'd never been to a club before. The noise, the heat, the reckless energy—it should have overwhelmed me. But tequila dulled the edges of my grief, numbing the ache I carried everywhere.
Kacey disappeared into the mouth of the crowd, kissing a stranger like the world was ending. Maybe hers wasn't, but mine already had.
Screw it, I told myself.
Just dance.
I took another shot, letting the alcohol burn through my veins. My head spun. My body loosened. My heartbeat synced with the music. For the first time in months, I felt almost… free.
Almost.
I stumbled toward the restroom, desperate to splash cold water on my face, not paying attention to the sign on the door.
The mirror blurred as I leaned closer, gripping the sink. My reflection looked unfamiliar—flushed cheeks, messy hair, eyes too bright from tequila and sadness.
I reached for the faucet—
And froze.
A voice behind me drawled, low and edged with arrogance.
"Well… unless you're planning to watch me pee, you're in the wrong restroom, Missy."
I turned sharply.
And my breath caught—not because of fear.
Because of him.
A man stood near the lockers at the far end.
Tall Built, looking Dangerously handsome.
"You lost?" he asked again, voice dropping an octave. "Or were you hoping to get my attention? Or what
I flushed. "I—no—I didn't realize—this is the wrong room—I just needed—"
Words tangled in my throat.
He stepped closer. Too close.
Clara's breath caught as the handsome stranger pinned her against the cool tile wall. His shirt gaped open, exposing abs rippling like well designed marble under taut skin, and those piercing icy blue eyes devoured her, dark with raw hunger. Heat flooded her veins; her ni***les went so hard into aching peaks, straining against her thin blouse, begging for his rough hands.
He leaned in, his cologne wrapping around her like a vice, his full lips hovering inches from hers parted, tempting. Her core throbbed with need, body arching instinctively as his fingers grazed her jaw, tilting her face up. Their breaths mingled, hot and ragged, the almost-kiss electric, shattering her resolve without mercy.
"Careful," he murmured. "If you look at me like that again, I might start thinking you want me."
I should have walked out.
I should have shoved him aside.
I should have remembered every vow I made about focus and discipline and staying away from men.
Instead, I stood frozen, breathless, the space between us electric and dangerous.
He smirked, and it did something devastating to me.
My heart hammered.
My body betrayed me.
And my mind whispered excuses I knew I shouldn't listen to.
*****
"Run along, sweetheart," he whispered, voice like sinful silk. "Before I forget you're drunk… and do something we'll both enjoy."
My legs turned to water.
I backed away, gripping the doorframe as if it could anchor me to reality.
His eyes followed me the entire time, darkening with something I didn't dare understand.
I swallowed hard, pushed the door open with trembling fingers—
And left the restroom with my heart pounding and my thoughts a chaotic, forbidden storm. I immediately went out to look for Kacey.
I didn't know his name.
I didn't know why the universe had placed him in my path tonight of all nights.