The Prince of Zorana

Chapter 1: The Night's Embrace pieces—shattered hopes scattered like glass. Every day felt like a balancing act on the edge of a cliff, where one wrong step could send her tumbling down into the abyss. 

The dim neon lights of *The Velvet Throne* flickered as she pushed open the club's heavy doors. The night was just beginning, but the air was already thick with tension—heavy with perfume, cigarette smoke, and the muted beat of bass-heavy music. The stench of liquor and sweat clung to her skin as she slipped behind the bar, wiping her palms on her worn apron. Another night, another round of faces she didn’t want to remember.

The job at the nightclub wasn’t glamorous, but it paid. That was all that mattered. Karina wasn’t here to enjoy the music or the lavish cocktails the rich patrons sipped on with their air of entitlement. She wasn’t even here for the tips—though she couldn’t deny the generous ones that helped keep her barely afloat. She was here for the one thing she needed most: survival.

At just eighteen, she had long since lost the safety net of a family. Her parents were gone, swallowed by the darkness of debt collectors and predators she never fully understood. No one ever explained it to her, not really. All she knew was that when the final warning came, they had disappeared from her life just as quickly as they had entered it. No goodbyes, no closure. Just an empty apartment, a pile of overdue bills, and an inheritance of sorrow.

That inheritance had left Karina with only one choice: work. Day and night. Sleep was a luxury she couldn’t afford. So here she was, an unwilling barmaid in a place filled with people who treated her like furniture—a fixture they didn’t even notice until they needed something.

The first round of drinks arrived—three martinis with extra olives. Karina slid the glasses across the counter with practiced ease. Her fingers trembled just slightly, a subconscious reminder of how long it had been since she'd felt safe, how many nights had blurred together into one long, sleepless haze. 

“You’re late tonight, Karina,” a voice called from the darkness.

She didn’t have to look up to know it was Cole, the club's manager. Tall, with sharp features that looked like they belonged on a movie screen, Cole was everything Karina wasn’t—polished, well-dressed, and unbothered by the small struggles that seemed to define her life. 

“Had to close the coffee shop,” she replied, trying to sound nonchalant. “Not like I have a choice.”

“True. You’re lucky I still let you work here,” he said with a smirk. “Most people would’ve quit after a week.”

She didn’t respond, keeping her gaze fixed on the row of bottles behind the bar. The truth was, she *could* quit. If she wanted to starve or get buried under the weight of her debts, she could just walk out. But she didn’t have the luxury of walking away. Not yet.

Cole chuckled and disappeared into the crowd. Karina let out a slow breath, wiping the sweat from her brow. The night was just beginning, and she could already feel the weight of the hours ahead pressing down on her. 

The clock on the wall ticked slowly, each minute crawling by. As the hours stretched into the early morning, the club grew darker, the music heavier, and the crowd more chaotic. Karina had long stopped trying to count how many drinks she’d served or how many eyes had lingered on her as they tipped their glasses back. In this world, she was little more than a commodity—a body that was useful only when it was serving someone else's need.

And then, as if summoned by the pulsing beats of the club, *they* arrived.

The group of men who’d slipped in unnoticed were hard to place at first. They didn’t seem out of place—just another group of well-dressed, high-rolling patrons looking to blow some money. But Karina noticed them immediately. There was something about their presence that felt… wrong.

They moved like shadows—too graceful, too silent. Their eyes, hidden behind dark sunglasses despite the dim lighting, were the first clue. The way they scanned the room, as if hunting for something, or someone. It was unsettling, but Karina had learned to ignore her instincts, to push down the warning bells in her mind. It was easier that way. 

She passed them by on her rounds, giving them the same fake smile she offered everyone else. But one of them—*he*—caught her eye.

Tall, broad-shouldered, with a chiseled jawline and eyes that seemed to pierce straight through her. His black suit fit him like it had been tailored just for him. His presence was magnetic, his movements calculated and deliberate. He was out of place, not because of his clothing or demeanor, but because of the coldness that radiated from him.

When their gazes met, Karina froze. Her pulse quickened, and for the first time in years, she felt something more than the numbness that had wrapped itself around her. There was something unsettlingly familiar about him, something that stirred a memory deep inside her chest—a memory she didn’t want to face.

Before she could turn away, he spoke.

“Another drink, love?” His voice was smooth, low—almost hypnotic.

Karina hesitated, but then nodded, moving toward him as her hands gripped the edge of the bar to steady herself. There was something in his eyes, something that pulled at her in a way she couldn’t explain. He wasn’t like the others—he wasn’t trying to flirt or make a quick deal. There was something more, something darker.

She couldn’t explain it, but she knew deep down that this man would change everything. 

But before she could ask what he wanted to drink, the lights in the club flickered. For a split second, everything seemed to freeze, like the world was holding its breath. The sound of the music, the laughter, the chatter—all of it vanished, swallowed up by an eerie silence.

Then, the man smiled.

It wasn’t a pleasant smile—it was predatory. And in that moment, Karina realized just how wrong she had been to think he was like the others.

This man wasn’t here to drink. He was here for her.

The minutes stretched on like hours. The crowd continued to move, the noise slowly creeping back, but Karina felt trapped in a bubble. The man’s gaze never left her. She felt an unsettling pressure in her chest, a tension that made her skin crawl. She tried to breathe, tried to steady her hands, but everything felt out of control.

And then, just as suddenly as the silence had come, it ended.

“Come with me,” he said softly, almost like an order.

The words hung in the air, and Karina’s body reacted before her mind could catch up. Her instincts screamed at her to run, to scream, to escape. But she couldn’t move. The words were like chains that bound her in place. 

And before she could decide whether to fight or flee, the darkness closed in around her.

Karina didn’t remember much of what happened next. The world became a blur of shadows and sharp, painful sensations. She remembered being dragged through the club, out the back door, into a cold alleyway. She tried to scream, to fight, but the man’s grip was like iron, unyielding and powerful. Her vision blurred, the edges of her consciousness flickering in and out of focus.

And then, just as everything started to fade, the last thing she heard before the darkness swallowed her whole was the man's voice, low and dangerous.

“Welcome to Zorana, Karina. You’re exactly what we’ve been waiting for.”