A Rebirth

Trapped

Melinda barely remembered walking out of Ethan’s office.

She must have. She must have gotten up, kept her face blank, stepped out into the dim hallway without letting him see the panic tightening in her chest. But all she could recall was the suffocating weight of his words.

"That was a long time ago."

Like it was nothing. Like it hadn’t shattered her.

She gripped the edge of the bathroom sink, staring at her reflection in the cracked mirror.

Her skin looked pale. Her lips pressed into a tight line. She looked… the same. But inside, she was screaming.

Breathe.

She squeezed her eyes shut. Counted to five. Opened them again.

She had survived worse. She had gotten through it once. She could do it again.

But the difference was, back then, she had escaped him.

Now, she had walked right back into his world.

And this time, she wasn’t sure she could get out.

The First Task

Her first night under Ethan’s direct management started like any other.

The club was packed. Music pounded through the air, the bass vibrating under her feet. Neon lights cast shifting colors over the crowd. The bar was slammed, and Melinda worked on autopilot, pouring drinks, ignoring the leers from customers, pretending everything was fine.

Pretending she wasn’t suffocating.

She hadn’t seen Ethan all night. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t watching.

And then, right around midnight, Tasha slid onto a barstool, tapping her nails against the counter.

"Boss wants to see you," she said.

Melinda’s stomach twisted.

She wiped her hands on a rag. "Why?"

Tasha smirked. "Didn’t ask. Just told me to send you up."

Melinda hesitated. She wanted to say no. Wanted to say she was busy, that she didn’t work for him, not really.

But she did.

And they both knew it.

Without another word, she untied her apron, set it on the counter, and made her way toward the VIP lounge.

A Dangerous Favor

Ethan was waiting for her in a private booth, drink in hand, legs casually crossed. He looked like he belonged there—like he owned everything around him.

Because he did.

She forced herself to stand tall. "You called me?"

Ethan smirked, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. "Have a seat, Mel."

"I’ll stand."

His smirk didn’t falter. "Suit yourself."

She folded her arms, her patience running thin. "What do you want?"

Ethan leaned forward, setting his drink down. His tone was casual, but there was something sharper beneath it.

"You ever handle money, Melinda?"

Her pulse quickened. "What kind of money?"

He tilted his head. "The kind that needs to go from one place to another without any… complications."

Her throat went dry.

"I’m a bartender," she said flatly. "Not a courier."

"You’re my employee," he corrected. "Which means if I need something handled, you handle it."

Her fingers curled into fists. "And if I say no?"

Ethan smiled. "You won’t."

A slow dread settled in her stomach.

This wasn’t a request. It was a test.

And she already knew the price of failing.

The Drop

The address Ethan gave her was deep in the city, far from the club’s usual crowd. The streets were darker here, quieter, the kind of place where people minded their own business.

She gripped the envelope in her hands, fingers tight around the crisp paper. She didn’t have to open it to know what was inside.

Money. A lot of it.

She should walk away.

She should throw it down a sewer drain and disappear.

But where would she go? She had no home. No backup plan.

And if she did run, Ethan would find her.

He always had.

Melinda swallowed hard and kept walking.

The building she was looking for was a rundown apartment complex with graffiti-covered walls. A single, flickering streetlight cast an eerie glow over the entrance.

She knocked.

A man answered. Older. Scarred. He looked her up and down, then opened the door wider.

"You’re late."

She didn’t respond. Just handed him the envelope.

He took it, flipped through the bills, then gave her a long, knowing look.

"You work for Brooks now?"

Her jaw clenched. "I work at the club."

The man smirked, like that was the funniest thing he’d heard all night.

"Sure you do."

He stepped back, shutting the door in her face.

Melinda exhaled, her grip loosening.

She turned. Started walking away.

She was almost to the street when a voice stopped her.

"Melinda Carter."

She froze.

The voice was low. Familiar.

She turned—and felt her stomach drop.

She hadn’t seen him in years.

But she’d never forgotten his face.

Ryan Walker.

Her blood ran cold.

Ryan had been one of Ethan’s closest friends back in middle school. One of the boys who had stood by, laughing, while Ethan had taken everything from her.

And now, here he was.

Smirking at her like nothing had changed.

"Didn’t think I’d see you again," he said, stepping closer. "But I guess some things never change."

Her hands clenched at her sides.

Ryan chuckled. "You should’ve stayed gone, sweetheart."

Then he walked past her, disappearing into the dark.

Melinda stood there, heart pounding, breath coming too fast.

She had done what Ethan wanted. She had played along.

But this wasn’t just about a job anymore.

This was a trap.

And she had just walked straight into it.