Page 7 of The Bratva's Hostage Bride

I can sense someone is watching me, and I can’t shake the feeling. Once we have our drinks, we head to the dance floor to dance, and I look around. No one is really looking my way.

Wait, the stranger… no; the owner is watching our group. I feel like his eyes are trained on me. He was tall and well-built and looked good in a suit. Smart, and yet so at ease. He had a bit of a five o’clock shadow on his face and it made him look even more handsome.

I turn my back to him, facing Devon and Meryl as we form a little circle on the dance floor and dance together.

“This isn’t normally my kind of music, but I can dance to anything.” Devon smiles proudly.

The other cousins agree rather loudly, and we fall into silence, letting the music wash over us. I glance over my shoulder and see the owner looking at us as I dance.

No, looking at me.

He’s watching me dance.

He’s probably some sort of creep, but then again, he was so nice to us. This is what you get for talking about serial killers all the time, Hannah. You don’t trust anybody.

Another round of shots and I almost feel giddy. We dance a little harder. Devon's head banging to a heavier song spurs us all on to let loose a little. We keep cheering for Meryl, and he never takes his eyes off me.

There’s something about the way he looks at me. It wakes up something inside of me. Almost a curiosity about him. It must be the alcohol lowering my inhibitions.

I try not to think about serial killers and how they would lure people out, but he doesn’t look like one. Do they ever look like one, though? The strobe lights flash on and off; colorful lights swirl around the dance floor.

Another shot of… what is it this time? Is that Vodka? Argh, not my favorite. We dance hard, screaming whenever we recognize a song, and I’m sure the owner watching me is highly amused, if nothing else.

Another round of shots, and I’m feeling slightly off. I sway to the music. I think if I had to jump up and down or headbang to one more song, I’ll throw up on the dance floor. Devon would love to call me a lightweight, then. Aside from the nausea, the dance floor feels warmer than earlier, and I want to go outside for some fresh air.

“You okay?” Meryl leans in and calls the words into my ear so I can hear her over the music. She looks like her eyes are swimming, much like mine feel.

“Yeah, just need some air.”

“Come on.” She takes my wrist, shouts something to Devon, and we head back the way we came. As we pass the owner, I see him watching me, possibly perturbed by the fact that he thinks I’m leaving.

That’s sweet. He’s sad I’m going. I’ve never had a guy look at me like that before. Maybe he is a serial killer.

We reach the outside corridor, and I take a deep breath.

“Maybe we should go right outside,” Meryl says. “You look flustered.”

“I don’t drink a lot,” I confess. “Not much at all, to be honest.”

“Yeah, let’s go in the cool, fresh air. You’ll feel better.” She opens the door but backs away suddenly when loud cracks sound through the casino, and people start screaming.

“Those are gunshots,” she says panicked. She grabs my wrist and backs us back into the dance club.

This is no easy feat, as the gunshots didn’t magically sober me up. I stumble slightly, Meryl gripping my wrist for dear life.

The music keeps going until people burst through the doors, making the DJ stop to see what’s happening. No one turns on the lights, though, as a stampede ensues.

More gunshots in the distance, more screaming. Everyone is running through the club, looking for the emergency exit. Meryl holds onto me tightly, but people keep knocking us around, and before I know what’s happening, I’m cowering in the middle of the dance floor, being jostled around. I’m sure I hear Meryl scream my name.

I start to panic and push my way to the side of the club, needing to get out of the mass of bodies pressing in on me from all sides. The strobe lights are still flashing, and I feel disorientated. Breathing hard, I look around for Meryl.

I’m struggling to catch my breath. I feel as though if I fall, I’m going to be trampled to death. An arm snakes around me and pulls me out of the way to the side.

I look up into the sparkling eyes of the owner. “I’ve got you.”

I’m still breathing hard, and my heart is pounding. He takes me by the arm and pulls me. “This way.”

I follow him immediately, trusting that he will take me somewhere safe, without knowing where he’s taking me or whether he’s trustworthy.

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