Page 37 of The Tattoo Artist

As the night progresses, the music envelopes us, and we lose ourselves on the dance floor. The pulsating beats drown out my thoughts, and I try to let go and enjoy the moment. The combination of the loud music and the drinks I’ve consumed starts to take its toll, and my head begins to pound.

I rub my temples, trying to alleviate the discomfort.

But as time passes, I realise that Cathy and Adonis have disappeared. Feeling a little disoriented, I decide to take a break and head towards the restroom, hoping to find Cathy along the way.

As I make my way through the dimly lit club, my steps are somewhat unsteady. The alcohol is starting to affect me more than I anticipated. I stumble slightly, tripping over something, but I quickly regain my balance and continue my search for the restroom.

I take a seat on an empty black chair near the exit door and slide my phone out-my vision begins to bubble slightly. I tap onto Catherine’s number and wait for her to pick up, I call her a couple more time, but it goes straight to voicemail.

I then scroll through my contacts and press onto Ares; I dial his phone and he answers on the third ring.

“Alex?” I couldn’t hear him clearly; I stand up and push the exit door before stumbling outside. I grab onto the wall for support, “hello?”

“Ares…” I slur out.

“Where are you?” He responds quickly, I groan at the pounding feeling in my head.

“Ares, I can’t feel my leg.” I whisper, my knees bending slightly.

“Where are you?” He asks me once again.

“Thirty? Some club.” I could hear him shuffling around, telling me to stay on the phone with him. But my fingers slowly begin to lose movement and my phone drops out of my hand. I slide down the wall and rest against it. Why is my body acting like this? What if I die? What if I over-drank? Is that even a thing?

I force my eyes open, trying to fight off the grogginess that engulfs me. I sit up, groaning in pain as I try to make sense of my surroundings. My head throbs, and I instinctively reach for my phone, only to realise it’s missing.

Suddenly, I become aware of my predicament. I’m surrounded by four pairs of feet, and dread washes over me as I recognise the man who was hitting on me at the club.

Fear clenches my heart, and I know I’m in serious trouble. I try to push myself up, but my body feels weak and unresponsive.

Why am I like this? Come on Alex!

He crouches down and grabs my jaw, forcing me to look into his menacing eyes. “Where’s your little firecracker of a friend now?” He sneers, his grip on my jaw tight and painful. I wince as he throws my face to the side, and his friends laugh in amusement.

I feel his lips press against my cheek, and I shudder in revulsion. Panic sets in, and I try to muster up some strength to fight back, but my limbs feel heavy and uncooperative. “Y-You drugged me,” I manage to whisper out, my voice trembling with fear and anger.

But my words only seem to amuse him further.

He chuckles, revealing in my vulnerability. I can feel the fear coursing through my veins, making me feel trapped and helpless. My mind races, trying to figure out a way to escape this dangerous situation. The man spreads my legs and before I know it, he’s flung backwards and crashes into the wall. My eyes look up and I see Ares slamming his fist into the man’s throat. The blonde guy, who had been harassing me, tries to recover, but Ares is lightning-fast.

He ducks a punch and delivers a crushing blow to the man’s gut, causing him to double over in pain. Before he can react, Ares lands a powerful uppercut to the man’s jaw, sending him sprawling backward.

The other three men rush at Ares, but he effortlessly sidesteps their attacks, using their momentum against them. With a fluid motion, he sweeps the legs out from under one of the men, sending him crashing to the ground.

Ares then delivers a swift knee to another man’s midsection, knocking the wind out of him.

He seems almost untouchable…

The remaining attacker, a burly guy with tattoos, charges at Ares with a fury in his eyes. But Ares is too quick and too skilled. He dodges the man’s punch and counters with a lightning-fast series of strikes, hitting pressure points that leave the man temporarily paralysed and gasping for air.

He rushes towards me, “Ares.”

“You need to vomit Alexandra.” He speaks, bringing me against him as he shoves my hair away. I shake my head, I always hated vomiting and to do it in front of him.

No.

No way.

“Alex, vomit.”

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