Page 21 of Dark Awakening

"You'll crash at this pace, Danica," Simmons warns, his usually jovial face creased with concern. "Burnout won't help the research."

"I just need more time," I plead, hearing the desperate edge in my voice. "This sample is unique. I can crack it if I keep digging."

He studies me for a moment before relenting with a sigh. "Don't overdo it. We need your expertise, bright-eyed."

I promise moderation, but we both know my obsessive nature. This work is my calling—I won't quit till I unravel its riddle.

My phone buzzes, interrupting the absorption. It's John.

“Hey, Dani, I know it’s your night off, but it’s my mom. I need to take her to the hospital, and I could use your help. Any chance you could come in?”

Weariness weighs heavy, but I can't refuse him. Family matters most.

“Sure, John, I’ll be there as soon as I can,” I agree, forcing a hint of enthusiasm into my voice.

“Thanks, Dani. You’re a lifesaver. See you soon.”

Once I hang up, I rush out into the biting night air, the chill reviving me. An odd prickle skitters up my neck as I hurry through pooling shadows and flickering neon. The sense of unseen eyes tracking me. I cast glances around but find only empty streets. Just my exhausted mind playing tricks, I berate myself.

The bar's neon lights and raucous music envelop me as I enter. The stale beer and worn wood aroma signal I'm back in my casual habitat.

John's face floods with relief. "Thank you, Dani. I hate to impose, but I must get my mom to the ER." Worry creases his brow.

I squeeze his shoulder. "Go. I've got this covered."

John grabs his keys and dashes out, tossing a grateful "Thanks!" over his shoulder.

I fall into a familiar rhythm, mixing drinks for the boisterous crowd. A regular leans over, winking tipsily as he orders another round. I smile on autopilot, thoughts drifting to the perplexing lab samples as I prep ingredients.

The bar pulses with life and laughter, glasses clinking merrily. This place has its own energy that I tap into, swaying and bantering with the patrons.

I deliver drinks and take orders, not to indicate my swirling thoughts. But one enigmatic figure still lingers at the edges, refusing to fade. Flashes of his urgent caresses and heated whispers haunt me. I can almost feel his dark presence even in this crowded room.

As I work, imagination conjures his smoldering eyes, tracking me. Ridiculous, I know. Still, I scan the shadowy corners, half-expecting to find him watching over me.

"Last call!" I announce reluctantly as the night winds down. The crowd filters out to find new adventures. My work continues—wiping tables, stacking chairs, counting the till.

When the last patron departs, I slump against the bar and my swirling thoughts. The shadows seem to twist unnaturally, playing tricks on my weary mind. "Get it together, Dani," I mutter, ignoring the odd prickle skittering down my spine. Just stress messing with me.

I finish closing duties hurriedly. Taking out the trash, I step into alleviating cool night air. My heels echo down the dim alley as I haul the bags to the bins.

But the dancing shadows and flickering lamps exude menace, raising goose bumps on my skin. I can't shake the creeping feeling of unseen eyes tracking me.

"It's nothing," I whisper, quelling the reflexive spike of fear. Probably just a stray animal. But when I turn to the bins, a swift shadow detaches from the darkness. A tall figure stalks toward me with predatory grace. Terror wars with a strange fascination. I know that tall stature...

"It's you," I breathe.

I take a step back, my insides bubbling with fear and rage. This guy is trailing me everywhere, and it's pissing me off. “Let me make myself clear,” I snap, a mixture of fear and anger in my voice. “Regardless of who you think you are or why you have been tailing me, something isn’t right in your head.”

He glares at me with a shadowy stare, a feral growl rumbling in his chest. “That’s what I like to see,” he snarls, leaning close until I can feel the heat radiating off him. “You’re so feisty.”

"Who are you?" I stammer, trying to keep my voice steady even as my heart pounds wildly.

I war inwardly with myself as I stare at his shadowed face. A part of me thrills at the mystery of him, this alluring man who has inserted himself uninvited into my life. But the rational side screams warnings, knowing it's dangerous and wrong for him to be here, lurking outside my work.

I try to ignore the way my pulse quickens under his intense gaze, cursing my body's traitorous response. I should feel only fear at his stalking presence. Instead, my skin tingles with an unwanted but undeniable exhilaration.

Drawing myself up with false bravado, I demand again, "Tell me who you are right now, and why the hell you keep following me?" The quiver in my voice betrays me.

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