Page 192 of Dirty Pleasures


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The bar was decimated, bottles reduced to shards, the alcoholic contents fueling the flames that danced with malevolent glee across the ruined space.

And then there were the bodies.

No. No.

Dancers, patrons, staff—people who had come with us for a night of escape, now lay motionless, scattered across the dance floor and piled around the stage.

Where’s Max? Valentina? Lemon? Tisha?

I slowed up, frantically scanning the space. “I don’t see—”

“It does not matter, mysh—”

“But, Max and—”

“We have to get out of here.” Kaz dragged me forward. “The bathrooms are behind the stage.”

“Kaz, we have to check for—”

His grip was like an iron shackle, unyielding. “No time. Remember the plan.”

“O-okay.” I followed him and stayed close.

The thought of possibly leaving behind the people we loved carved a hollow pit of guilt deep within my chest. And each step away intensified the weight of that guilt, making it almost unbearable.

My heart ached with the fear that they hadn’t made it out, that we were abandoning them to a fate we were desperately fleeing from.

There was this horror in not knowing their status, of not being able to turn back and search for them.

It gnawed at me with sharp, relentless teeth.

Their faces flashed in my mind.

No. They got out. I know they did.

Yet, death loomed over the club.

What if they didn’t make it out?

We hurried forward.

Please, let them have escaped. Let them be safe.

The stage itself—where I’d just been throwing dollars—was now a grotesque display.

Oh my God.

Bodies lay draped over the edges, slumped against the walls.

Contorted and lifeless.

Strewn haphazardly across the floor.

Their final moments, marked by poses of desperate escape or sudden demise. Some lay draped over the edges of tables, limbs askew. Others were slumped against the walls, their faces frozen in expressions of shock and agony. G-strings reduced to charred black lines on burning skin.

Flames licked at the stage’s surface. My nose drowned in the scent of burning flesh and hair. The crackle of fire mingled with the faint, distant echoes of emergency sirens.

Smoke billowed upwards in thick, choking columns, so dense and dark that parts of the ceiling were completely obscured.

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