Page 1 of Chased & Bred by the BRATVA
Rachel
I shouldn't have had that last shot.
My skin feels too warm, my dress too tight, and my heels…don’t get me started on the heels. The club is packed, sweaty bodies grinding under flickering lights, but I’m just not feeling it tonight. The music pounds through my chest like a second heartbeat. I’ve lost sight of my friends, again, and I just want to go home and crawl into bed.
“Screw it,” I mutter, pushing through the crowd.
Lena said she’d wait by the bar while I went to the ladies, but of course, she’s not there. I crane my neck to try and spot her or the others on the dance floor, but all the writhing bodies look the same and the heat is cloying. The discomfort turns to anger as I realise that everything about this birthday party feels like an excuse for my friends to get messier than usual. All I wanted was to celebrate turning twenty-two with cake and prosecco. I didn’t even have a chance to eat anything between leaving work late, changing into Ava’s “spare” dress and hitting the club.
None of them have even remembered to wish my ahappy birthday, and I’ve been expected to pay for every round of drinks so far tonight. I push my way through sticky people and scratchy sequinned dresses until I reach the exit, the bouncer raising an eyebrow as I push through the door.
Outside, the air hits me like a slap. Cool, damp, real. I blink up at the cloudy sky and press my palm to the side of my head. The world spins a little, like it’s trying to shrug me off, and I have to blink a few times to ease the blur.
I dig into my clutch and pull out my phone. It’s dead. I don’t even know what time it is. Perfect.
A car pulls up to the curb, sleek and black and humming low like a warning. The tinted window slides down an inch.
“You waiting on a ride, sweetheart?” The voice is male. Smooth. Confident. Local to the city.
I hesitate. I don’t remember calling one. But it’s the same make as the rideshare Lena ordered earlier. Maybe she pre-booked it and they’ll be out shortly.
“You for Lena’s group?” I ask, squinting.
The man’s smile widens. “That’s what the app says.”
I know, somewhere deep down, that something feels off. But the ache in my feet and the fog in my brain team up to convince me it’s fine. Just get in, wait for the rest of them to get here, go back home, sleep it off.
“I don’t know where the others are, but I’m sure Lena will be rounding them up and they’ll be out soon.” I open the door and slide inside, untying the straps of my shoes and shucking them off before taking one last look to see if Lena and the others are out yet, but I can’t see them anywhere, so I pull the door closed.
The second the door shuts, the air changes. It’s colder, too quiet. There is a second man in the front who doesn't speak, but glances at me through the rearview mirror, then the driver adjusts it downward like he wants a better view of my body.
I sit up straighter, crossing my arms over my chest. “So… which company are you with?”
No answer.
“Hello?”
Still nothing. I shift toward the door handle, but the lock clicks down. My pulse slams into high gear.
“Okay. That’s not funny.”
The man in the passenger seat finally turns around. He has a scar under his eye and a cigarette balanced behind his ear. A tattoo of a scorpion crawls over his neck and disappears into his hairline.
“We just want to have a little fun,” he says, grinning. “You’re a party girl, right?”
My stomach drops. A cold sweat breaks out along my spine.
No. No. This isn’t happening.I was careful tonight.Then the memory of the last shot hits me and I know this is all my fault.
The car slows as we leave the main road and veer into a wooded area. There’s no streetlights out here, just trees and shadows and my growing panic.
“Stop the car,” I snap. “I swear to God, stop it now.”
They laugh before mimicking me in a high pitched tone.
“I like it when they panic,” the driver says. Passenger seat guy just laughs harder, a hand going to his groin to adjust himself.
And that’s what saves me. The way they’re still laughing and distracted as I throw myself between the front seats and stab at the buttons with my fumbling fingers, hoping one of them hits the button for the locks. I hear thesnickover the laughter as the guy who is driving tries to bat me away, the car swerving a little as he stamps on the breaks to regain control. I throw myself back and grab the door handle with both hands, kicking with everything I have. It gives and I tumble out into the dirt and roll, my bare skin scraping over gravel as I scramble to my feet. The straps of Ava’s dress tear, but I don’t have time to care as I lurch towards the trees.
