CLAIMED BY MY IDOLS UNDER BANGKOK LIGHTS

Chapter 3: The Room That Wasn't Hers

*****

Bangkok — 11:47 p.m.

The heat hit her first.

Mira Haven stepped off the airport shuttle and into a wall of humidity so thick she could barely breathe. Bangkok at midnight still pulsed with life - neon signs flickering, motorbikes buzzing past, voices shouting in a language she didn't understand.

But something else hummed beneath the noise. A tension. A charge. Like the city was holding its breath.

She clutched her carry-on and walked toward the hotel entrance, her body heavy with seventeen hours of travel. Her neck ached. Her eyes burned. And somewhere deep in her bones, a warning flickered.

You shouldn't be here alone.

She shook it off. Jet lag. That's all.

I'm here, she told herself. I'm actually here.

But the excitement she'd expected didn't come.

Just exhaustion. And loneliness. And the memory of a text she'd read five times on the plane.

I know what he did.

Meet me if you want the truth.

She'd tried calling Essie during her layover. Straight to voicemail. Tried again before takeoff. Nothing.

He's busy, she told herself. He has that promotion now. He's working.

But the text sat on her phone like a splinter under her skin.

And she couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching.

***

The hotel lobby was all marble and gold, chandeliers dripping from high ceilings, the smell of jasmine and something sweet hanging in the air. A TV mounted on the wall played Thai entertainment news, flashing images of screaming fans, barricades, a private jet.

Mira barely glanced at it.

Until she heard the name.

"Lycans arrive in Bangkok tomorrow for their sold-out concert..."

She froze.

There they were. Ace. Zayn. The rest of the group. Walking through an airport somewhere, surrounded by security, faces hidden behind sunglasses and masks.

Her heart stumbled.

They're here. In this city. Right now.

The screen shifted to another segment, but Mira stood rooted, watching, something electric sparking in her chest.

I'm going to see them. In days. I'm going to breathe the same air.

She pulled herself away and approached the reception desk.

"Hi, I'm checking in. Mira Haven."

The receptionist . A woman with sharp cheekbones and sharp eyes scanned her screen without looking up.

"Name?"

"Mira Haven. Reservation under Essie Sterling."

More typing. A frown.

"There's no reservation under that name."

Mira's stomach dropped. "What? No, that's impossible. He booked it weeks ago. It's part of my travel package."

The receptionist shrugged. "Nothing under that name. You can book a room now if you want. We have availability."

"I have a booking. Can you check again? Please?"

The woman sighed loudly, the kind of sigh that said You're bothering me and typed slower than necessary.

"No. Nothing."

Mira's hands started shaking. It was 11:47 p.m. She was in a foreign country. Her phone battery was at 12%. And her boyfriend, the man who'd kissed her forehead and sent her off like she was nothing, had apparently forgotten to book her room.

Or maybe he didn't forget.

The thought came out of nowhere, cold and ugly.

Maybe he did it on purpose.

"Excuse me."

A voice behind her. Deep. Warm.

Mira turned.

A man stood there. Tall. Broad-shouldered. Dark eyes that crinkled at the corners when he smiled. Next to him, another man leaner, sharper, with mischief written all over his face.

The first one spoke again. "Did I hear you say your room isn't available?"

Mira nodded, too tired to be embarrassed. "They're saying there's no reservation."

The second man, the mischievous one, stepped forward, eyes scanning her face with something like curiosity. "American?"

"African American."

He smiled. "Even better. We love Black women here. You're going to turn heads."

The first man elbowed him. "Pete. Read the room."

Pete grinned unapologetically. "What? I'm being friendly."

Mira almost laughed. Almost. The exhaustion was too heavy.

Jimmy, if that was his name, spoke to the receptionist in rapid Thai. His voice was calm but carried an edge, the kind of tone that said I'm not asking anymore.

The receptionist's expression shifted. Defensive at first, then uncertain.

Pete leaned toward Mira, lowering his voice. "Jimmy used to work hospitality. He knows all their tricks. They try to upsell empty rooms by pretending reservations don't exist. Happens all the time."

Mira's eyes widened. "They do that?"

"To tourists who look tired and alone." His gaze softened. "You looked exhausted. And really alone."

Something about the way he said it made her chest ache.

Jimmy was still talking, his voice sharper now. He pulled out his phone, showed her something, and the receptionist's face went pale.

She nodded rapidly. Apologized. Started typing.

Jimmy turned back to Mira, satisfied. "They had a system glitch. Your room was assigned to us by mistake. But they're upgrading you now. Better room. Ocean view. Complimentary breakfast."

Mira blinked. "I... how did you…."

"Doesn't matter." He smiled, and it was like watching a storm cloud break apart. "Go get some sleep. You look like you need it."

The receptionist handed Mira a new key card, along with a small box of chocolates and a handwritten note apologizing in Thai and English.

Mira took it, still stunned. "Thank you. I don't know how to…."

"Just enjoy your trip," Pete said. "And if you need anything, we're in the room next door." He winked. "We're the friendly neighbors."

Jimmy shook his head, but he was smiling. "Go. Sleep. We'll talk tomorrow if you want."

Mira nodded, clutching her key card like a lifeline.

As she walked toward the elevator, she heard Pete whisper: "She's beautiful. Did you see her eyes?"

And Jimmy's quieter response: "Shut up."

She smiled for the first time all day.

******

The elevator doors closed.

And in the lobby, Pete's smile faded.

"She looked scared, Jimmy."

Jimmy nodded slowly. "Someone's scared doesn't usually show up until they're alone in a foreign country at midnight."

"Think she's running from something?"

"Or someone." Jimmy glanced at the elevator. "Hope she's okay."

****

The room was beautiful. Huge bed, soft lights, floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the glittering city.

Mira dropped her bags, kicked off her shoes, and collapsed onto the mattress.

Her phone buzzed.

She grabbed it …..

Essie Sterling.

She answered immediately. "Babe?"

"Hey." His voice was distracted, distant. "Sorry I missed your calls. Crazy day. You land okay?"

I land okay? I almost didn't have a room. I'm in a foreign country alone. Strangers had to save me. And you're asking if I landed okay?

"Yeah," she said quietly. "I landed."

"Good. Listen, I gotta go. Meeting in five. We'll talk soon, okay?"

"Essie, wait….."

The line went dead.

Mira stared at her phone.

We'll talk soon.

Would they?

She pulled up the mysterious text again. Read it for the sixth time.

I know what he did.

What did you do, Essie Sterling?

*******

A noise.

Mira's head snapped up.

A soft thud. From the door.

She stared at it, heart hammering.

Nothing.

Probably nothing.

She stood slowly, bare feet silent on the cold floor, and crept toward the door.

Peered through the peephole.

Empty hallway.

But on the floor, just below the door, a piece of paper had been slipped through.

Mira's blood went cold.

She picked it up with shaking hands.

One sentence. Handwritten. Block letters.

HE'S NOT WHO YOU THINK HE IS.

Mira stumbled back, pressing herself against the wall.

Who wrote this?

Who's watching me?

How do they know my room?

She checked the door. Locked. Chained.

She checked the window. Locked.

She stood there, frozen, the paper clutched in her hand, her breath coming too fast.

Her phone buzzed again.

She almost dropped it.

Unknown number.

Enjoying Bangkok, little moon?

Mira's hand flew to her mouth.

Little moon.

No one called her that.

No one but—-

She squeezed her eyes shut. Grandma's gone. Grandma's gone. This isn't her.

Another buzz.

Don't worry. I'm watching over you.

……A

Mira slid down the wall and sat on the floor, shaking.

A.

Who was A?

Alice? The text from before said —A. The same.

I know what he did.

Be careful who you trust.

Enjoying Bangkok, little moon?

I'm watching over you.

She should call the police. She should tell someone. She should—

Her eyes fell on her carry-on. Open. Messy.

And then she realized.

My flash drive.

She'd had it at the airport. She'd been holding it when she bumped into—

When she bumped into someone.

A man. Dark eyes. Cold expression. Surrounded by security.

Ace.

She'd dropped it. In the chaos. In the crowd.

Her flash drive with all her business files, her jewel designs, her personal notes, her life was gone.

And now someone was leaving notes under her door and calling her little moon.

And Essie wasn't picking up.

And she was alone.

In Bangkok.

At 1 a.m.

Mira Haven sat on the cold hotel floor and shook.

She didn't sleep that night.

******

8 a.m.

Morning light streamed through the curtains.

Mira hadn't moved from the floor. Her back ached. Her eyes burned. The note sat on the bedside table like evidence of a crime she couldn't prove.

She forced herself up. Showered. Dressed.

When she stepped into the hallway, the door next to hers opened.

Jimmy and Pete. Gym clothes. Too much energy for 8 a.m.

Pete's face lit up. "Sleeping Beauty awakens!"

Jimmy elbowed him. Then his eyes caught Mira's face. The shadows underneath. The redness.

"Are you okay?" he asked quietly.

Mira forced a smile. "Jet lag."

Jimmy didn't look convinced. But he didn't push.

"We're grabbing breakfast downstairs," Pete said. "Join us. Thai coffee will fix everything."

Mira almost laughed. If only coffee could fix this.

But she nodded. "Okay."

As they walked toward the elevator, Pete chattering about the gym, Jimmy watching her with quiet concern, Mira felt something strange.

Safe.

She shouldn't feel safe. Not after last night.

But with them, she did.

Her phone buzzed.

She didn't look. She already knew.

Another text.

Another ….A.

She'd read it later.

Right now, she just wanted to feel normal for ten minutes.

Right now, she wanted coffee and company and the illusion of safety.

*****”*

In the elevator, Pete said something funny. Jimmy rolled his eyes. Mira smiled—real this time.

And somewhere in the city, her flash drive sat in someone else's hands.

Someone with dark eyes.

Someone who couldn't stop thinking about the woman who'd bumped into him at the airport.

Someone who'd just read her name on the drive.

Mira Haven.

Have

n.

He said it out loud, testing it.

"Mira Haven."

Beside him, another voice. Softer. Warmer.

"Pretty name for a pretty woman."

Zayn leaned over his shoulder, looking at the Flash drive.

"We should find her. Return it."

Ace didn't answer.

He was still holding the drive.

Still thinking about her eyes.

Still wondering why she felt familiar in a way that made his chest hurt.

********