The rowdy rumble of the crowd continued. Bodies pulsed and moved in a frenzy as loud music roared, the floor itself reverberating with every beat.
A silhouette emerged in one dark corner of the room. The disco ball flashed briefly, revealing a six-foot-one man with soft coal eyes and light brown curly hair. His chin was chiseled to perfection, as was the rest of his rigid frame.
A smirk rested on his lips.
The hunter had found his prey.
It had been weeks, but Lucky Dante was finally back in his game. There had been cries and worries from fans. Tonight, he would return their favor with a spectacle—a performance worthy of the playboy king.
Just as he stepped from the darkness, he began walking toward his target. It wasn't his first time wanting her; he'd promised her weeks ago, only to be interrupted. It was only fair he repaid the debt.
She sat still, and the room was noticing.
He licked his lips.
A familiar figure emerged, blocking his path.
His smirk disappeared.
The figure was a five-foot-six caramel-skinned lady with long black hair. Her eyes were deep pools of black with curiosity nestled deep within them.
What is she doing here?
---
Nelly had been trying to reach Lucky all day, having barely escaped Amanda's vicious interrogation about where she'd been.
Only one answer had calmed her overprotective bestie: "I was with Lucky."
Knowing her friend, she'd tried reaching the egocentric playboy to get their stories straight. But there was one issue—that damned Lucky refused to answer her calls.
She considered her options. It was best to satisfy her friend's curiosity, given her next line of action. That's why she'd tracked him to Beat79.
Strangely, he seemed surprised to see her. She could have sworn she saw him frown for a moment.
"Why aren't you picking your calls?"
"What, are you my mom now?" He laughed.
"I wanted to ask you something."
"So it's basically another favor. I never would have imagined someone wanting to use me."
"No, it's not. Why are we even standing? Buy me a drink."
---
Lucky was amused by her confidence, even as she walked ahead of him toward the bar. Excitement stirred within him.
"So what do you want?"
Barely a second after they sat, two shots landed before them.
Nelly took hers and gulped it in one go.
"Hey, easy there." Concern flickered across his face.
"Don't tell me that." Her voice was low. "So, for what I want—it's not really a favor. Just a statement."
"And what kind of statement is that?" He grinned.
"Can you please tell Amanda I was with you last night?" Her eyes dilated as she stared at him.
"No."
"Please."
"I have—"
She grabbed the shot before him and gulped it down. "Barman, fill it up."
"Is something the matter, Miss Nelly?"
"No. Please do this for me, dear Lucky."
He recognized something in her eyes—a calculation beneath the desperation. *What's wrong with her?* If she couldn't hold alcohol, why was she drinking it? Was it to make the story believable? Or was something else going on?
Just then, an arm yanked her violently from her seat.
He turned swiftly. It was the lady he was supposed to have.
Oh shit.
---
Nelly had felt an intense stare since she stepped in. Her eyes trailed to a dark-skinned lady with bone-straight hair—the kind of girl who belonged in Amanda's league. Yet for some reason, she seemed strangely familiar.
After she'd found Lucky, the intensity grew stronger. As they sat, the lady stood. Nelly took her eyes off her for a moment—only to be yanked by the hand a minute later.
"What the hell are you doing?" Nelly yelled.
"Who are you? And why are you spoiling my parade?" the dark-skinned lady yelled back.
"I don't understand."
"Everyone is okay with having Lucky for a night. But you—you got greedy. I would have been okay, but why is it only when he wants me that you appear?"
Nelly finally placed the face. This same lady had glared at her her first night here. But what did she mean by Lucky wanting her?
"What do you mean? I have no idea what you're talking about."
"You do, whore. Why do you keep throwing yourself at him?"
Nelly tried to stay still, but even with the loud music, most eyes were on them. She would not back down quietly—especially with Lucky standing behind her.
"Who's the whore? You're just angry he wants someone else. Besides, he's already told me he wants me."
The dark-skinned lady laughed. A few other girls now stood behind her. "You think you're the first one he's told that? Go on, Lucky. Tell her what you told me."
Nelly's cheeks flushed. *How could she have taken the words of a playboy so seriously?* But... the look in his eyes when he'd told her—it had seemed genuine. If that was true, why was he back here again?
In the end, he was still just a playboy.
She had no point arguing here. Unbeknownst to her, Lucky had already signaled security to remove the lady. Before she could sit, she heard the annoying voice once more:
"Your mother is a whore."
---
The beats never stopped playing, even with the commotion near the center of the club. That's why few could hear what was happening. But a sound echoed from that point—louder than the beats themselves.
Now every single eye turned toward that direction.
A dark-skinned lady lay on the floor, clutching her cheek. Above her, a lady in a black shiny dress with long hair stood sneering.
Nelly gasped.
Shit. She forgot to hold back.
---
Lucky had waited to see how the drama would unfold. The clubbers at Beat79 needed entertainment; they never specified which form it would take.
Still, he was forced to intervene when the name-calling started. But then Nelly moved—too fast for him to follow.
In the next second, her opponent was on the floor, blood spilling from her mouth as she spat out a tooth.
---
A moment later, everything had returned to normal. Nelly sat beside Lucky, gulping one shot after another. The playboy watched with worry plastered on his face.
"Nelly, slow down."
"Barman, another round." Her words slurred, but her eyes held something sharp beneath the haze.
"It's fine. I'll do it. I'll even call her right away."
"Really?" She swayed slightly, a loose smile on her lips. "You're the best, you know that?"
He wasn't buying it. Something was off.
"Let's get you home."
"No," she muttered, her voice dropping to something almost coherent. "I don't want to go home. Take me upstairs."
---
Beads of sweat formed on Lucky's forehead. *How could she look so beautiful even like this?* Her soft lips parted as her eyes fluttered closed. Why didn't she want to go home? Did she and Amanda have an issue?
The entire club was now watching him. Even the music had slowed. He wasn't one to take advantage of a drunk girl—but if he took her upstairs now, that's exactly what it would look like.
Still, he had to respect her wish.
He looked at her again. Eyes closed. Was she sleeping? Standing?
Sighing, he scooped her into his arms. Clapping and cheers erupted as he headed for the elevator.
Something didn't seem right. He felt like she was using him again—but for what?
---
A few minutes later, they arrived at the last suite—his penthouse. He placed her gently on the king-sized bed. She murmured something unintelligible, turning onto her side.
He was tempted to stay and watch her.
No. He wouldn't play into her hands.
He disappeared from the room, returning a moment later with her bag. Placing it gently beside her head, he whispered, "Goodnight."
As he stepped out, he pulled out his phone and dialed Amanda's number.
---
A few minutes before the night reached its peak, at the top of a five-story building, stood a luxurious penthouse. Though made of glass, it was indestructible. Inside was sparsely decorated with furniture, plants, and art. In one corner of the room, a king-sized bed covered in white duvet lay.
The figure on the bed stirred—but not from sleep.
Nelly's eyes opened. Clear. Focused.
She lay still for a moment, listening. The faint sound of Lucky's voice drifted from another room—he was on the phone with Amanda, weaving their alibi.
Perfect.
She sat up slowly, all trace of drunkenness gone from her movements. Her hand found her bag in the darkness. She unzipped it with practiced silence, fingers closing around what she'd come for.
A small mask. Not for disguise—for something else entirely.
She brought it to her face and breathed deeply. Once. Twice. Three times.
The last fog cleared from her mind.
Below, the bass from the club vibrated through the floor. The clock on the nightstand glowed: 12:00 AM
Nelly stood and stretched, rolling her shoulders. Her eyes in the mirror were no longer those of a desperate woman or a drunk girl.
They were the eyes of a hunter.
She had three days left until Samuel disappeared forever. Tonight, she wasn't here for Lucky's alibi.
She was here for what Lucky kept hidden.
The penthouse was dark. The playboy was distracted. And Nelly had hours before dawn.
It was going to be a long night.