Chapter 27

Riley's POV

The sleek black car purred to a stop in front of the grand edifice of the club. My heart hammered against my ribs, a nervous rhythm that echoed the throbbing bass emanating from within the building. This was it. My first club experience, and I was a bundle of nerves. Norman's driver, an hefty man named Mikhail, quickly stepped out from the car. He came to my side of the car and opened the door. I nodded in appreciation, a small smile on my lips. He wasn't the regular driver that drives Norman, he seems new. I haven't seen him around much.

He was back in the car after I waved him goodbye. Soon, the car pulled away, leaving me standing alone on the sidewalk, a wave of self-consciousness washed over me. The dress I’d chosen, a simple but elegant sapphire blue sheath, suddenly felt inadequate, too plain amidst the glittering throng of people streaming towards the entrance. My palms grew clammy, and I took a deep breath, trying to channel Norman’s confidence. He'd promised he'd be there, by my side. That thought was my anchor.

The entrance to the club was a flurry of activity, a soft pattern of flashing lights, loud music, and beautifully dressed people. Two imposing guards stood sentry, their expressions stern, their eyes scanning the crowd with practiced scrutiny. I approached them hesitantly, a nervous smile plastered on my face.

“Pass, please,” one of them grunted, his voice a low rumble.

I fumbled with the clasp of my small purse, my fingers clumsy with nervousness. I rummaged through its contents – my phone, a lipstick, a small mirror – but the pass was nowhere to be found. Panic clenched my chest. Where could it be? I distinctly remembered Mikhail handing it to me. Had I dropped it?

A horrifying realization dawned on me. I’d drifted off to sleep in the car, lulled by the smooth ride and the lingering comfort of Norman’s words. The pass must have slipped from my hand, forgotten on the seat. My face flushed with embarrassment.

“I… I think I left it in the car,” I stammered, my voice barely a whisper. “The driver… he just left.”

The guard’s expression remained impassive. “No pass, no entry,” he stated flatly, his tone leaving no room for negotiation.

My heart sank. Frustration warred with a rising sense of panic. How could I be so careless? Norman was waiting for me, expecting me. I couldn’t just turn around and go home. I reached for my phone, intending to call him, to explain my predicament, when a familiar voice, smooth and unwelcome, cut through the din.

“She’s with me.”

I froze, my blood turning to ice. I knew that voice. I’d recognize it anywhere. Slowly, I turned, my heart pounding a frantic rhythm against my ribs. Kirk. He stood there, leaning casually against the velvet rope, a predatory glint in his eyes as his gaze raked over me, lingering a little too long on the curves of my dress. A shiver of revulsion traced its way down my spine. He looked every bit the confident, arrogant wolf he was, a stark contrast to my own flustered state.

The guards, who had been so unyielding moments before, now practically bowed, their stern expressions replaced by fawning deference. “Of course, Alpha Kirk. Our apologies.” They unhooked the rope, gesturing for us to enter.

My mind reeled. Alpha Kirk? Since when was Kirk an Alpha? The last I’d heard, he was just one of Norman’s brothers, a troublemaker, a nuisance. But the guards’ reaction, their immediate deference, spoke volumes. It seemed Kirk held a position of power I hadn't been aware of. And now, thanks to my own carelessness, I was indebted to him, forced to accept his unwelcome assistance.

I wanted to refuse, to tell him I didn’t need his help, but the words caught in my throat. I was trapped. Without the pass, I had no way in. And Norman wasn't here to make it easy. Swallowing my pride, my unease, I mumbled a reluctant, “Thank you,” and followed Kirk into the pulsating heart of the club.

The interior was a sensory overload. The music was deafening, the air thick with the scent of perfume, alcohol, and something else, something musky and primal that spoke to the wolf within. Bodies swayed and gyrated on the dance floor, a writhing mass of energy under the lights. I felt small, insignificant, out of my depth.

Kirk led me through the throng, his hand possessively on the small of my back, guiding me towards a secluded VIP area overlooking the dance floor. I tried to shrug off his touch, but his grip tightened, a subtle assertion of dominance. I clenched my jaw, my earlier nervousness replaced by a growing sense of unease. This was not how I’d envisioned my first club experience. This was not how I wanted to spend my evening.

He steered me towards a plush booth, ordering drinks without consulting me. I sat rigidly, my senses on high alert, scanning the room for any sign of Norman. Where was he? He’d promised he’d be here.

“Relax, Riley,” Kirk purred, his voice a low drawl that sent shivers down my spine. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” He leaned closer, his breath warm against my ear. “Or maybe,” he added, his voice dropping to a suggestive whisper, “you’re just overwhelmed by my charm.”

I pulled back, my discomfort escalating. “I’m fine,” I said, my voice tighter than I intended. “Just… looking for Norman.”

Kirk chuckled, a low, mocking sound. “Norman’s busy,” he said, waving a dismissive hand. “Attending to some important business, you know. But don’t worry, I’ll keep you company.”

His words sent a fresh wave of anxiety through me. Norman was busy? Why hadn't he told me? Was this another one of Kirk's manipulations? Or was Norman genuinely occupied, leaving me alone, vulnerable, at Kirk's mercy?

I took a sip of the drink Kirk had ordered – something fruity and strong – hoping it would calm my frayed nerves. It didn’t. It only seemed to heighten my awareness of Kirk’s proximity, of the predatory gleam in his eyes. I felt like a trapped animal, cornered and exposed.

My mind raced, searching for an escape. I had to find Norman. I had to get away from Kirk. But how? The club was a maze of unfamiliar faces and flashing lights. I didn't even know where to begin looking.

I cursed myself for my naivety, for my carelessness with the pass. I’d walked right into Kirk’s trap, and now, I was paying the price. The evening stretched before me, a daunting expanse of uncertainty and potential danger. If Norman didn't show up soon, I was in for a very long, very uncomfortable night. And something told me Kirk would relish every moment of it.