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CHAPTEREIGHT
EZRA
I knewshe would figure it out.
As soon as we walk into the club, Maya shoots up from her chair. She thinks she can escape, but there’s no exit. There’s no escaping me this time.
My heart is racing in my chest. I’ve waited for this moment for so long. I’ve waited to see her for so damn long, and now she’s finally here. She walked right into the palm of my hand.
I would have come yesterday, but I had to tie up a few loose ends back in Eastlake, get my affairs in order so I can focus all of my attention on my girl when I take her back home.
I’m coming for you, baby.
And when I do, I’ll make you scream.
CHAPTERNINE
MAYA
I standup from the barstool so quick it falls over onto the person next to me.
“Hey!” they shout in protest, but I’m already moving towards the back of the club. Ezra’s eyes lock on me instantly as I weave my way through the crowd. The three men waste no time descending the steps and begin stalking towards me. My heart races in my chest as I practically push people out of the way in my haste to find an exit or a room I can lock myself in.
A room with a lock won’t be enough to keep Ezra out. When he wants something, he doesn’t stop until he gets it.
Tears begin to sting my eyes. Faces blur as I run past them. A few men try to stop me for a dance, or to offer help—I don’t know, but I ignore them.
There’sgotto be a place I can hide.
I turn around and scan the room. The three of them are hot on my heels, Michael Myers style, their tall bodies sticking out amongst the crowd in their all-black attire. I duck and continue to the back, hoping to lose them if they can’t see me.
I finally make it off the dance floor to the back of the club. My eyes adjust to the darkness as I scan the small space for an exit.
Of course, there isn’t one. At least not on this side of the building.
“Shit!” I hiss.
There are only two restrooms and one other room at the very end of the short hallway. The door is closed, but that doesn’t stop me from barreling into the room and slamming the door behind me.
It’s completely dark and reeks of cigarette smoke. There are no windows that I can see, no peek of the streetlights outside. The music is slightly muffled in this room, but the door vibrates with each pound of the bass. I lean against it and take several deep, calming breaths, trying to soothe the fear that threatens to undo the year of work I’ve put into managing my breakdowns.
I reach out on either side of me and run my hands along the walls, blindly searching for a light switch. When I finally find it, I flip it up.
I gasp at what I see.
Pictures of me are plastered all over the walls. Nearly every inch of space is covered in them.
Walking out of the grocery store with a million bags. Leaving work looking like death. Taking my daily jogs on my lunch break—
And entering my apartment.
They’ve been watching me, and I didn’t even know it. All of these pictures were taken this week, and I had no idea they were even here.
I’ve just fallen right into their trap.
A cry forms in my throat, but I refuse to let it slip. I continue to breathe, fighting the tears that threaten to fall if I break down.
It was so stupid of me to believe I would be able to stay here another day without getting caught. Hungover or not, I should have left as soon as I woke up.
