Chapter Two

Mila’s POV

I didn’t plan anything after I left the house. I just wanted the night to swallow me whole and what better place to clear my head than New York’s most famous nightclub— Black Box. 

The line outside the club was long but my money got me inside so fast I barely noticed when they let me in. The doors closed behind me, and the world turned into noise.

The club was loud, the bass pounding so hard it shook me to my core. The lights flashed red, blue, and purple, wiping my mind clean.

My phone buzzed but I didn’t look at it. I knew who it was. I knew what he would say. Calm words. Sharp threats. Promises that sounded like threats. I didn’t need any of that. 

I wanted noise, I wanted to forget the way my father just signed away my life for more power, like my life never belonged to me.

My phone buzzed again, this time more aggressively than the last.

I groaned. “Of course.”

“Mila,” Anaya shouted the moment the call connected.

“Where the hell are you?”

“Out,” I said.

“Out where?” She demanded. 

“Somewhere loud.” 

She sighed. “Your dad has been calling everyone looking for you. He’s furious.”

“Well first, I don’t care.”

“Second, he should have thought of that before he signed me off without my permission.” I spat.

“Mila. Please just tell me where you are.” She pleaded.

I closed my eyes. “I can’t.”

Her voice softened. “Please promise me you won’t do anything stupid. Promise me you’re safe.”

“Anaya. I’m fine, okay?” “ I just need to clear my head, that's all.” 

“Are you drunk?” She asked.

“Not yet,” I said.

“Send me your location. I should be there with you,” She said.

“No”

“Mila.”

“I love you,” I said quickly and hung up before she could argue.

I quickly turned off my phone before she could call again. I headed straight for the bar and ordered a drink. Then another, and another, and many more.

I knew I drank too fast but I didn’t care. Each sip burnt and welcomed it. The burn meant I was still here. Still in my body. Still me.

 People spoke to me. I nodded, smiled, and danced because my feet needed movement or I would break apart. I could barely make out the faces of the people I danced with.

I laughed too loudly, I leaned too close, I felt nothing.

A man tried to touch my waist. I moved away. Another offered a drink. I shook my head. None of them mattered.  

I stumbled. Not badly. Just enough.

 A hand caught my arm, strong and steady.

I looked up. I didn’t see his face clearly, just his eyes. Dark. Focused. Watching me as I mattered.

 “Careful,” he said.

 His voice wasn’t soft. It wasn’t harsh. It was controlled. Like he was used to being followed.

 “Let me fall,” I mumbled.

 He didn’t let go. “You look like you’ve been falling all night.”

 Something about the way he said it made my chest ache.

 “I’m fine,” I said, even though I wasn’t.

 “I didn’t say you weren’t.”

 I pulled my arm free. “Then why are you still holding me?”

 “Because you’re swaying,” he answered calmly. “And because you don’t look like you want help, but you need it anyway.”

 I laughed. A sour sound. “Story of my life.” 

He studied me for a moment. Too long. Like he was trying to read something I didn’t want seen.

 “Drink some water,” he said.

 “You sound like my father,” I snapped.

 His jaw tightened. “Then he must be very annoying.”

 That made me smile despite my resistance.

 We sat. Not close. Not far. The space between us felt charged. Dangerous.

 He didn’t touch me again. That shocked me.

 “What are you running from?” I asked suddenly.

 He looked away. “Pressure.”

 I nodded. “Same.”

 Silence stretched. Not awkward. Heavy.

 “I’m being forced into marriage,” I said, the words spilling out before I could stop them.

 His head turned sharply. “Forced?”

 “Yes,” I said. “Like a contract. Like a deal.” 

“That’s not marriage,” he said.

I looked at him. “Tell that to my father.” 

His eyes darkened. “Does the man know?” 

I shook my head. “I don’t even know him and I couldn't care less because I would never marry him.”

“You don’t think he deserves you?” he asked. 

“No,” I said without doubt. “But that’s never mattered.”

He leaned back, releasing slowly. “People like us don’t get choices. We have obligations.”

 The words hit too close.

 “Uhmm..Who’s us?” I asked.

 “Those born into cages,” he said. “Gold ones.”

 I laughed softly. “You talk like someone who understands.”

 “I do.”

 I studied him softly. 

“What’s your name?” I asked, then waved my hand.

“Wait… don’t tell me ... I don’t care”

 He paused. Just a second too long. Then he laughed, low and hard like I’d caught him off guard.

“ I don’t care either,” he said. “Names complicate things.”

“Good,” I replied. “I don’t want complications tonight.”

I leaned closer. “Tonight, we forget our gold cages.”

“Do you want another drink?” I asked.

“ You should slow down.” He replied.

“Okay, Dad.” I rolled my eyes and placed my order anyway.

I kept ordering more drinks until he was forced to drink them with me. 

The music grew louder behind us, heavy and overwhelming. 

I stood, swaying slightly, and he followed.

“Where to?” He asked.

“Let’s dance, stranger,” I replied 

“We'd better leave before neither of us can find our way home.” He said firmly.

“And who said I want to go home?” I replied sharply.

I wrapped my hands around him. “In fact, I’d stay here with you.” 

I looked at him, and I could barely make out his features. I traced his face with my fingers. When I got to his chin, my fingers brushed a small healed scar just beneath it.

“Let’s go somewhere.” He said softly.

I stepped closer, just enough to feel his warmth. “I’d go anywhere with you,” I whispered.

I wasn’t sure but I think he smiled at my response. Deep down, I knew I shouldn’t have left the club with him but I craved some form of control. And this was it.