Bound to the Alpha Racer

Grumpy Angel

I stopped at the intersection and glanced up at the faded street sign on the pole. The pounding beat of music echoed down the road. I was in the clubbing district, somewhere I had never been before.

However, Mr. Sullivan had given me the name of a club where I was supposed to meet someone. He said his friend could easily help me get the money I needed.

I felt like I was being ping-ponged around. Now, I had to show up just before midnight. It felt like I was about to commit a crime.

I wondered if I was genuinely doing the right thing and making the right decisions. Why was I becoming increasingly scared?

But whatever—this was for Dad. I was doing this because I had no other choice.

Demoniquid.

That was the name of the place.

My heart pounded faster as I approached the club, where a long line of people waited to get in. What were they all doing here, waiting outside for this?

As I approached the entrance, a security guard blocked my path. "New girl? Back of the line."

"I'm here on Mr. Sullivan's behalf." I held up the club card, just as Mr. Sullivan had instructed. "He said I had to be here by 11 p.m."

The guard nodded to his partner. "Sullivan's girl. Let her in."

Girl? What was that supposed to mean?

I didn't ask questions; I just walked inside.

My ears nearly burst from the deafening trance music. The beat slammed through my chest like a sledgehammer. The entire place was dim, almost pitch-black, except for the neon lights flashing around the room.

Suddenly, someone grabbed my arm from the side.

"You Sullivan's girl? Come with me."

I followed him through the crowd, past people dancing and making out—some of them were really going at it. The sight made my skin crawl. I felt sick to my stomach.

He led me to the side of the DJ booth to a private booth area guarded by security. No one dared to get close, and for a moment, I felt like I could finally breathe.

I spotted a few men, including Mr. Sullivan, lounging on the couches. The table was covered with bottles of liquor, surrounded by ice buckets and snacks.

As soon as Mr. Sullivan saw me, he waved me over. I hesitated but then stepped closer.

"Oh my God! You brought a mechanic in here, Sulli?" one of the men laughed. His eyes scanned me like prey.

"She's an uncut gem. You'll like her better than the others. They're easier to train."

My brows furrowed. What the hell does that mean?

The man sitting next to Sullivan stood up and staggered toward me. Without warning, he grabbed my chin. I immediately slapped his hand away.

"Hands off!" I snapped.

"Damn!" She's wild! I love it!" He grinned like a drunk predator.

I looked at Mr. Sullivan, feeling panic rise in my chest. "Sir, didn't you say you'd help me with my dad's surgery?"

"I am helping you, Lune. If you make him happy, he'll pay you handsomely. More than enough to cover your father's medical bills."

I was stunned. "But..."

"There's always a price, Lune. Do you think anyone lends that kind of money without a guarantee? This is your only way."

I should have listened to Dad. Mr. Sullivan was dangerous.

But what other choice did I have?

The man ran his hand along my body, touching places he had no right to touch. His booze-soaked breath made me gag.

What could I do?

"I wanna see if you're good at kissing," he sneered.

He gripped the back of my neck, and no matter how much I squirmed, he kept coming closer. I shut my eyes, feeling desperate and humiliated.

Was this really how my story was going to end?

Suddenly, a hand covered my face. A familiar scent hit my senses: white cedar and figs. My breath caught in my throat.

That dream!

I opened my eyes and caught a glimpse of Sullivan's friend through the stranger's fingers.

"Don't you dare," a deep, cold voice growled.

In a flash, the man was thrown across the room and landed hard on the couch. Chaos followed.

In the blink of an eye, an arm wrapped around my waist and lifted me off the ground, carrying me away from that place.

I curled into the stranger's chest, too afraid to resist. But I recognized that scent: White cedar. Figs.

Him.

Where was he taking me? Who was he, really?

He continued to carry me as he ran through the chaos of screams and pounding music. Suddenly, he stopped, making me wonder what was happening. From his arms, I saw a group of large security guards blocking the entrance.

He set me down, and I noticed that his face was partially hidden behind a mask. Under the dim lights, his eyes seemed to glow a golden hue. He winked at me.

"Dance with me!" he shouted.

My eyes widened. "What?!"

As the security guards moved forward, he gripped my hand tightly. With a spinning kick, he knocked two of them to the ground.

My God!

He pulled me close to him. "Ready?" he chuckled.

"No, no!!"

My screams were ignored as he bent me backward while his other hand threw punches and blocked hits. What the hell is going on? I was under his control, like a wooden puppet. We spun and swayed as if he were dancing with me.

This is insane!

Screams and chaos erupted around us as people tried to get out of the way. The security guards were all lying on the floor. He grabbed my hand and kicked the door wide open.

"Time's up, Cinderella! Let's go home!"

He scooped me up again, like a prince rescuing a princess from a dragon. My body jostled in his arms. Strangely, though, I felt like I was being saved by this mysterious stranger.

"Close your eyes!" he ordered.

I shut my eyes just as the wind rushed fiercely around us. Where is he taking me?

Eventually, he stopped running, and I dared to open my eyes. We were on a quiet side street, far from the club. Had he carried me all the way here? But how did it feel like it only took seconds?

This man ran at an incredible speed, yet his breathing remained calm and steady. How is that even possible?

Without thinking, I jumped down from his arms, stepped back, and watched him warily. He pulled down the mask that had been covering half of his face. Even in the dim streetlight, I could clearly see his stunning appearance.

His medium brown hair, naturally highlighted, was thick and slightly tousled. He had a strong, angular jawline, high cheekbones, and a perfectly symmetrical face—he had that timeless, masculine look. His full, defined brows framed intense hazel eyes that radiated cool, powerful energy.

Oh God...is he an angel? Or maybe the devil himself?

"Who are you?" I asked, trying to sound sane despite being mesmerized by his looks.

The so-called angel—or devil—frowned. "You don't know me?"

Have we met before? Then, suddenly, I remembered the dream I had had the night before. Yes, he looked just like the man from that dream. Is this a sign? However, I'm not sure if I recognize him from my dream.

I shook my head. "Sorry, I don't know who you are."

He sighed and walked toward a motorcycle parked nearby. He grabbed his helmet. His cold, piercing eyes met mine.

"Get on!" he ordered as he mounted the bike.

What is happening here? We just met, and he's already bossing me around like this? I don't even know if he's a good guy or a psycho. Okay, I'm officially calling him the grumpy angel.

"I want to go home," I argued. "You should just leave."

"You know, starting a brawl at that club was the last thing I wanted," the grumpy angel muttered, scanning the street ahead. "I'm guessing they'll come looking for us in a few minutes."

"Hey! You started that fight!" I pointed at him, annoyed.

He chuckled. "I was just dancing...with you."

Please, someone, get me out of this absurd situation with this weirdo!

"You really want to stay here? After what just happened?" He tapped the empty seat behind him. "My offer's one-time only."