Page 52 of Unmasking Mayhem
We push back toward the club, making our way through the crowd. I catch a glimpse of Whitney on stage again. I want to call out to her, to warn her this night isn't just a performance anymore, but she’s caught in the rhythm, lost in the pleasure of the moment, and I can’t break that for her—not yet. As weglide closer to the bar, eyeing the gathering crowd full of masked figures, Havoc leans in close.
“You still think this is just about the money? Because I’m starting to feel a bigger scheme at play. We need to find out who’s pulling the strings.”
My mind races, and I nod. “Agreed."
As we reach the bar, a flicker in the shadows catches my attention: the tall man I had spoken with earlier leaning against the wall, now flanked by two burly figures, looking a hell of a lot less welcoming than he had before. I nod toward him, signaling Havoc and catching his interest. The game is shifting, and the stakes are climbing higher; the Masked Mayhem energy begins to pulse around us, echoing the thrill of danger. With tonight’s race looming and unseen threats lurking nearby, I know one thing: we need to be prepared for anything, especially since King and D fucking know that 13 and I are undercover. I'm just waiting for him to get his revenge, and it's been fucking exhausting.
After the fight night King and D held in the basement of Club Mayhem—canceling the race it was supposed to be—I walk up to the club, my eye and nose throbbing with their own heartbeat from my face being pummeled all fucking night. 13 never showed up, so I took a fucking beating all on my own, so he's got some fucking explaining to do.
I find Whitney walking off stage toward the back where the dancers' dressing room is, and silently I follow her as if I were someone with a fucking obsession with her—and I am. Knowing she's getting changed and will likely exit through the back door, I slip out of it and light a smoke, trying to keep my hands warm from the icy breeze enveloping me with every burst of cold air. You can feel winter coming, and deep down I know it's going to be a fucking cold one...
It's no more than ten minutes when Whitney walks out the back door with Boston, both of them not looking happy. Did Whitney tell her what her boyfriend made her do? I wonder to myself, stepping directly in their path.
Whitney looks a little surprised, while Boston looks annoyed, nervously glancing over her shoulder. Whit rolls her eyes and Boston sighs, neither one of them in the mood to deal with my shit, but it's too fucking bad. I want Whitney, and I want her now.
"Do you mind if I walk with you?" I ask, my mask covering the bruises and dried blood on my beaten-up face.
"You do whatever you want anyway," Boston snaps, stomping ahead and leaving Whitney and me walking slowly behind her.
"What the fuck is her problem tonight?" I ask, slipping my fingers into Whitney's and holding her hand like it's my saving fucking grace.
Whitney pauses for a moment, gears turning manically in her head before she spits out, "I told her what happened between me and King, and I told her why it happened."
"Fuck, so she knows about the recording to blackmail you?" I ask, stunned, never really thinking she'd ever tell her.
"Yeah, and of course, she doesn't believe me," she huffs, wiping cold tears away from her cheeks.
"Damn," I reply, my heart clenching at the thought of what she had to endure. I squeeze her hand tighter, hoping to ease some of her pain through simple contact.
"She thinks I just wanted attention," Whitney continues, her voice breaking slightly. "Like I made it up to get sympathy or something. It's like she doesn't fucking know me, and she damn sure doesn't know her boyfriend."
"Bullshit. She doesn't know what the fuck she's talking about," I snap defensively, taking a step closer. "You don’t deserve any of this shit. None of it is your fault."
Whitney shakes her head, frustrated. "It’s not just about her. I’m dealing with this mess. I'm dealing with Dustin stalking me; I just... I don’t know who to trust anymore."
Her voice wavers as she looks at me, her soulful eyes searching for something amidst the chaos—something she can cling to. I can see the weight on her shoulders, the burden of secrets, as she tucks her brown hair behind her ear.
"You can trust me. I'm here to help you figure this out, I swear, but first, I need you to know that you can lean on me, always."
“Can we just… get out of here?” she asks, glancing back nervously at Boston, who’s still a few paces ahead, dominating the sidewalk with her anger. “I don’t think I can deal with any more of this shit tonight.”
I nod, feeling the urgency in her voice. I lead her down a side alley, away from the noise and body heat of the club. The chill of the night starts to settle in, the soft glow of streetlights casting an eerie halo around us, but for the moment, it’s just me and her.
"What happened in there?" I ask, forcing myself to take a few steps back from her, ready to focus and dig deeper into this twisted scenario that she still hasn't told me about, in detail anyway. I reach out, rubbing her shoulder gently, trying to give her the strength to continue. “You don’t have to relive it all,” I assure her softly.
“No, I need to,” she says, determination flickering in her eyes. “He thinks he can control me with that fucking video, and I can’t let him win. Not when so much is at stake.”
The fire in her words sparks something in me—determination, resolve. “What do we do, Whit?"
Her confidence wavers again, eyes darting toward the ground before she locks with mine. “You don’t know what you’re asking for. King’s dangerous. He’ll come after anyone who stands in his way, and he's already dead set on killing you and 13 for betraying him.”
I lean closer, my voice low and steady. “And I'm ready to take that risk."
Whitney searches my eyes, and suddenly I can see the vulnerability battling against the strength within her. “Okay… but I need you to promise me something.”
“Anything,” I say, my heart pounding with the weight of her request.
“If things go south, you have to promise to get yourself out of it. I can’t lose you too.” Her anguished eyes cut right through me, reminding me of my own fucking pain and determination.
