Running

Kade POV

I'm too drunk to move quickly and blood is rushing in my ears, my body still too wired to process the shift from pleasure to panic.

“What the hell are you doing here?” My voice is hoarse and breathless, and I hate how wrecked I sound right now.

Nikolai tilts his head, pocketing his phone with an infuriating ease. “Just checking in on one of our rising stars.”

“Checking in,” Darren repeats, voice sharp. “By breaking into my fucking hotel room?”

Finally, Nikolai looks at Darren and whatever Darren sees in that looks has him falter, his expression goes from angry to worried. 

My mind finally forces me to move, and I yank the sheet up around my waist as I try to push up on my elbows, the room spins slightly, and my pulse is still hammering in my ears. The panic is clawing it's way through my skull now that the reality of this entire situation is hitting full force. 

What the fuck have I done? This isn't just bad, this is career-ending. 

"You don't want to do this," I say, trying to make my voice steady only it's not. 

Shaking his head, Nikolai chuckles. "Oh but I do Kade, and I already did." He pats his pocket where the phone is, where the fucking picture is like he has won. 

Darren shifts suddenly, his jaw tight. "You really think this is going to fly? That no one is going to do something about this?" His voice is loud. 

Nikolai just sighs like he's bored of Darren. "Really? Darren, if I wanted this leaking, I would have done it before you even realized I was in the room.” He steps closer, ignoring the way Darren tenses, his focus still locked on me. “This isn’t about ruining you, Mercer. It’s about owning you.”

The words land like a blow to my gut. This is worse than him putting it out there for everyone to see.

Darren stiffens, his hand gripping the edge of the mattress. “The fuck does that mean?”

Nikolai’s smirk doesn’t waver. “It means your little celebration just turned into a contract. And not the kind you get to negotiate.”

Ice floods my veins and my mouth opens, but no words come out, because I already know.

I’m fucked. I'm done, there's no way out, so, I begin to move fast, doing the only thing my mind can think of.

The second Nikolai steps back, I grab my jeans, yanking them on with shaking hands. My pulse is a fucking wreck, my brain scrambling to process what just happened, but my body moves on instinct, get dressed and get the hell out of this place, now.

Darren is still beside me, half-dressed, his jaw tight with barely restrained anger. He doesn’t say anything, just watches as I pull on my shirt, not bothering to button it all the way. My fingers are trembling too much anyway.

“Smart,” Nikolai muses, watching me from the doorway like he’s enjoying the show. “You always this quick to run, Mercer?”

I don’t answer. My shoes are next, my movements are sharp and rushed. Every second that passes feels like another nail in my coffin. When I finally look at him, he’s still smirking, like he already knows what’s running through my head.

“You don’t have to leave so soon,” he says smoothly. “We could have a conversation. Discuss your… options.”

I grit my teeth. “Go to hell.”

Nikolai chuckles, patting his pocket where his phone is still sitting. “Oh, Kade. I already own that place.”

I shove past him, slamming my shoulder into his as I storm out into the hallway. Only to realise how fucking foolish that was, while the tonight entirely was foolish but hitting him with my shoulder? Fuck, I wait for the bullet but instead he talks.

“Don’t worry,” he calls after me, voice too damn smug. “I’ll be in touch.” The door swings shut behind me and I don’t stop walking.

---

I don’t even remember how I got to this bar. One second, I was leaving the hotel, my skin was burning with humiliation, and my stomach was twisted into knots. The next thing, I was stepping into some dive bar just two streets away from the hotel where I fucked up my career. The dim lightening and the smell of stale beer wraps around me like an invisible shield. 

The bartender barely looks at me as I slide onto a stool, my pulse still hammering in my ears.

“Whiskey,” I mutter, rubbing a hand over my face. “Neat.”

The glass appears in front of me seconds later. I down half of it in one burning swallow, barely tasting it. It doesn’t make the sick feeling go away. and it certainly doesn’t erase the weight of Nikolai’s words, the way he looked at me like I was already his.

I tap my fingers against the glass, trying to shove the memory of that fucking camera flash out of my head. This is bad. no, this is worse than bad, this is career-ending if I don’t handle it.

Right now, I should be coming up with a plan, I should be calling someone, figuring out how to stop this before it gets out of control. I don't though. Instead, I wave the bartender over and order another drink, and then another, followed by yet another.

The whiskey does nothing to clear my head, but at least it numbs the sharp edges, it at least it makes me forget, just for a little while. Because even I know, no one, and nothing can stop Nikolai. He has everything he needs right now to control me, to get what he wants from me. 

The worst part? There is no one, not a single person who will stop him, no one is foolish enough to try risk their life for me.