Kidnapped by my ex

As I gulped in the next shot, the muted tones of the bass music slammed in my ears and swam beneath my skin. How many had I already taken? Even though I had lost count, it didn't matter because I was still sane.

I felt a wave of vertigo as soon as I moved. Perhaps I had gone a little too far. I didn't realise someone was calling my name until I felt a hand abruptly shake my shoulder. I turned to face my closest friend.

"Sarah! For the benefit of Pete. Why are you in this place? With a heaving motion, Bailey let out a curse and ran towards me. Remembering that I'd called her here took a time.

"Bailey." I drew her in with a smile and said, "Come drink with me."

She shook her head, but didn't move from her spot at the bar next to me.

"Is it about him, baby?" Under the lights, her voice was clear and sweet as she enquired. She could have dipped me in ice instead.

The thought still caused my heart to thump terribly. I wanted to forget about him forever. Athan Slater. That idiot.

My fiancé-or rather, my ex-fiance.

Life was pleasant. I believed that as long as I had him, it didn't matter how bad my hand was from the start. When I dropped out, Ethan helped me through my mother's illness and remained by my side till her death. He had swept me off my feet. He was my rock, and I believed that he was the same.

That's what I believed until I heard nothing when I got home, discovered that all of his possessions were gone, and discovered his engagement ring and a note that said, "It's over," on the dinner table.

Done. After three years of courtship, they split up. And he couldn't even say it directly.

It had taken me an entire day to come to terms with the fact that he was not returning. I asked all his acquaintances and the individuals I assumed he worked for, and I searched everywhere for him, but nothing turned up. He had vanished, leaving me alone.

I had already progressed through half of the grieving process, from acceptance that he wouldn't return to anguish and guilt.

Was I the one? Was it something I'd done? Was I a burden, in his opinion?

I couldn't stop thinking about it. I was working at an office with no skills, barely out of high school, just to make ends meet. As a security guard, it was him who brought in the majority of the cash. He had never addressed my feelings of inadequacy as an issue, but he had always consoled me when I felt inadequate. He could have easily told me if that was the case.

Or was there another reason?

I had now chosen to feel rage, as there was no way to know otherwise.

"I'll report sick to work tomorrow on your behalf." Bailey jolted me out of my reverie with her voice.

No need, I said, shaking my head. It was oppressive to consider spending more time in that house than was required. Whether I was drunk or not, I wasn't going to stay in. In the first place, the office job wasn't that vital. I wouldn't be the first person to arrive there inebriated.

"I appreciate you coming here for me." As I mentioned,

You weren't supposed to come here by yourself. Things happen in settings like this all the time. Things mafia and gang related. Horrible garbage. She flicked her braid and gave me a wary look. "We must leave here as soon as it is necessary."

Observing the concern in her gaze, I hummed. I could see why she was always so worried about visiting places like this. If my life was difficult, hers had been much worse. She talked a lot about that, always being so unduly circumspect. Occasionally, she would regale me with a series of hazy tales about various things that she said she had heard from a friend of a friend, all of them terrifying. from trafficking to gangs to the shadowy underworld. She had even mentioned the Mafia boss before.

Again, what was that name? Dante? David?

"Whatever," I thought as I got up from the chair. Although I appreciated her prudence, all I wanted to do tonight was forget.