Burning Rancor 18+

Six

The bar was a sensory overload of thumping bass, sticky floors, and the heavy scent of alcohol. It was exactly what I needed. I wanted the noise to drown out the suffocating silence of the secretarial pool, and I wanted the burning liquor to numb the icy terror of my mother’s ultimatum.

I ordered a gin and tonic, sitting on a high stool at the far end of the counter, trying to melt into the shadows. For a few minutes, the burning throat and the dim lighting worked. The heavy knot in my chest loosened a fraction. But my peace in this world was always a fleeting thing.

"Hey, beautiful. Why is a girl like you drinking all alone in a dark corner?"

A thick, overly disgusting voice shattered my sanctuary. I flinched, looking up to see a heavily built man sliding into the stool next to mine. He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes- they swept over my rumpled work clothes, my messy hair, and the bandage on my hand with a predatory hunger that made my skin crawl.

"I'm just having a drink," I said quietly, instinctively drawing my shoulders inward. "I'd prefer to be left alone."

"Come on, don't be like that," he chuckled, leaning closer until the smell of stale beer and sour sweat filled my lungs. He reached out, his hand heavily dropping onto my thigh. "A pretty thing like you shouldn't be lonely. Let me buy you the next round."

"No, thank you. Leave me alone," I said, a sudden spike of panic rising in my throat. I slapped his hand away from my leg, turning my back to him to pick up my glass.

I didn't see the dark gleam in his eyes. I didn't see the way his fingers sneakily hovered over the rim of my drink while I was actively rejecting him, dropping a tiny, fast-dissolving tablet into the clear liquid.

Desperate to escape his suffocating presence, I hurriedly gulped down the remainder of my drink, the liquid burning a chaotic path down my throat. I grabbed my purse, shoved my chair back, and walked out into the cool night air without looking back.

I walked down the neon-lit pavement, my chest heaving as I tried to put distance between myself and the bar. But within minutes, a strange, terrifying weight settled into my limbs. My feet felt like lead, dragging against the concrete. The colorful neon signs above me began to bleed together, swirling into a sickening vortex of light.

The drink was incredibly potent. My brain felt like it was being wrapped in thick, suffocating cotton, and I rapidly began to lose my senses. The pavement beneath my heels tilted violently.

A heavy hand suddenly clamped down onto my shoulder, spinning my unresisting body around. Through the heavy, terrifying fog encroaching on my vision, I saw the face of the man from the bar. He was grinning.

"You don't look so good, sweetheart," he purred, his grip tightening as my knees buckled completely. "Let's get you into a cab. I'll take real good care of you."

I tried to scream, but only a weak, pathetic whimper escaped my lips. I tried to pull away, but my muscles refused to obey my brain. He wrapped a thick, unbreakable arm around my waist, dragging my dead weight toward a yellow taxi idling at the curb.

The world spun horizontally. My eyelids grew impossibly heavy, the blackness clawing at the edges of my sight. Right before my consciousness completely deserted me, the man's grip was violently ripped away, and I felt myself falling into the empty air, only for a pair of gentle, trembling arms to catch me, holding me securely against the dark.

~•~

Mason’s POV.

I had just gotten back into the city an hour ago, the international flight leaving me exhausted and thoroughly irritated. The business trip had been a grueling success, but my mind had been strangely restless the entire time. I had pulled up to the lounge across the street from the corporate district to grab a quiet drink with my security detail before heading back to my empty apartment.

I never expected to see her here.

Through the tinted glass windows of the lounge, my eyes had instinctively locked onto a familiar, disheveled figure stumbling out of the rowdy bar across the asphalt. Ava. She looked small, her shoulders slumped, her gait unsteady even from a distance.

My chest tightened with a familiar, biting anger.

Of course, I thought bitterly. The minute I turn my back, she’s out drinking her guilt away.

But my anger instantly shifted into something cold and sharp when I noticed a heavy-set man stepping out of the bar right behind her. He wasn't just walking; he was stalking her. His eyes were glued to her back, tracking her like a predator marks a wounded animal.

Ava’s pace slowed dramatically. I watched through the glass as she began to sway, her hands lifting to her head as if the world were spinning. She was losing her footing. The man closed the distance in a second, his hand aggressively clamping onto her shoulder and spinning her around. Even from across the street, I could see she was entirely defenseless. Her body went completely limp, her head rolling back as he practically hauled her toward a waiting cab.

He had drugged her. It was blindingly obvious.

A primal, suffocating fury exploded in my chest, hot and lethal. My hands clenched into tight fists, the knuckles popping in the quiet car. I opened the door to step out, my vision tunneling on the bastard trying to shove her into the backseat.

No matter what she did, a fierce, unyielding voice roared in my head. No matter how much I loathe her, no matter how much she destroyed my life- I am still a man.

If I sat back and allowed a woman to be taken, abused, and ruined right in front of my face, I would become the very monster I claimed to hate. I would never be able to meet my own eyes in the mirror for the rest of my life. Even if it was Ava. Even if she was the villain of my story, she didn't deserve to be broken by a nameless piece of trash in a dark alley.

"Mario!" I barked, my voice a lethal snap through the intercom to my lead security guard. "Look across the street. Right now."

Marcus’s eyes shifted, instantly analyzing the unfolding kidnapping. "Sir, I'll go-"

"No, don't use our team. It’ll cause a scene the press will feast on," I ordered, my brain working at a frantic, hyper-focused speed. I pointed toward the entrance of the lounge we were parked in front of. "Take Sarah from our corporate hospitality team inside. Take the head bouncer from this club. Go with them, scare that piece of s**t into the next century, and pull her out of there."

Marcus didn't hesitate. Within twenty seconds, Sarah- a no-nonsense, fiercely protective woman- and a massive bouncer from the lounge descended upon the yellow cab like an incoming storm.

I watched from the shadows of my blacked-out vehicle as the bouncer slammed his fist onto the hood of the taxi, his towering frame completely blocking the door. Sarah ripped the rear door open, her voice sharp and commanding as she threatened to call the high-ranking precinct leads I had on speed dial.

The coward inside the cab took one look at the sheer muscle blocking his escape and panicked. He shoved Ava’s limp body out onto the pavement, scrambled back into the vehicle, and the taxi sped away into the night, its tires screeching.

Sarah caught Ava before her head could hit the concrete, pulling her into her arms.

My heart hammered violently against my ribs, a strange, suffocating relief washing over me as I watched Sarah check her pulse. I picked up my phone, dialing Sarah’s number directly.

"Mr. Brooks," she answered immediately, her breathing shallow as she cradled the unconscious girl. "We got her. She’s completely out cold. It looks like a heavy sedative."

"Take my personal credit card from Mario," I commanded, my voice tightly controlled, masking the terrifying adrenaline coursing through my veins. "Take her to the luxury hotel three blocks away. Book a suite. Stay with her the entire night. Do not leave her side for a single second. Make sure she is hydrated, make sure she isn't harmed, and call a private physician to check her vitals if she doesn't wake up normally."

"Understood, sir. I'll take care of her."

I hung up the phone, leaning my head back against the leather headrest, my eyes closed as I listened to the distant sound of the city. My hands were still shaking. I hated her. I reminded myself of that with every breath I took. I hated what she represented, and I hated the phantom weight of Eclipse's broken heart.

But as I looked back out the window, watching Sarah lift Ava’s frail, broken form into a safe vehicle, a strange, unsettling knot tightened in my stomach. The girl looked so incredibly small. So profoundly fragile.

And for the first time in two years, a tiny, dark whisper of doubt echoed in the back of my mind, wondering what kind of life she was truly living when the office doors were closed.

~•~