02• Now I Choose to Enter

HARPER PETROVSKY

The Kireevs might already know I’ve escaped and could be watching every corner—but nothing’s going to stop me from making a grand entrance.

When we reach the Strip, the driver pulls up in front of one of the biggest nightclubs. The lights flash in every color, reflecting off the asphalt in a near-hypnotic glow.

“Here you go, miss. We’ve arrived.”

“Thank you,” I say, handing him the cash before stepping out of the taxi.

A sly smile curls on my lips as I adjust the cap on my head, glancing around at the crowds gathering in long lines. I step out of the car with purpose, the warm air still brushing uncomfortably against my skin. I give a subtle shake of my head, letting the cap fall away and my hair tumble down my back in soft waves.

Without hesitation, I walk toward the entrance, where a tall, broad-shouldered bouncer stands with a stern expression and crossed arms. He immediately stretches out an arm to block my way. I raise an eyebrow and pull the necklace from inside my jacket, letting the pendant catch the light.

The golden gleam of the metal seems to catch his attention. His eyes narrow slightly as he focuses on the symbol. I know he recognizes it—there’s no way he wouldn’t, not in a place like this.

Finally, the bouncer gives the slightest nod and steps aside, granting me entry.

“Go in,” he says, his voice as flat as the expression on his face. “But if you cause any trouble, I’ll be the first to know.”

“Of course,” I reply, the sly smile still playing on my lips. “I’m just here to have some fun.”

With the necklace swaying gently around my neck, I walk past him, feeling adrenaline rush through my veins. They might be looking for me—but right now, I’m stepping into their territory of my own free will.

The inside of the club is everything I expected—luxurious, a true spectacle of lights and sound. The music pulses with a steady rhythm, vibrating through the floor and walls as people dance and talk beneath the beat.

My eyes light up as I near the dance floor, the bass seeming to electrify my muscles, the sense of freedom utterly intoxicating. In the middle of all that chaos, I feel detached from everything I left behind. Without thinking, I let the music guide my movements, my body falling into rhythm.

Time seems to dissolve as I lose myself in the music—but then, an unsettling feeling begins to creep in. I feel like I’m being watched. I slowly open my eyes, and through the flashing lights and faint haze on the dance floor, I notice a few men scattered around. They're watching me with hungry, leering eyes—enough to set me on alert, though I don’t stop dancing.

One of them moves closer, wearing a smile that immediately puts me off. He invades my personal space, inching far too close. I turn my back on him, letting my gaze wander around the club.

My eyes are drawn to the upper level of the nightclub—a reserved area with a perfect view of the dance floor. But what really grabs my attention is the man standing there, leaning slightly over the railing, watching the scene below.

He’s tall, blond, with a commanding presence. A glass in hand, he raises it to his lips, taking a drink—and it holds my gaze even more. I watch the liquid slide down his throat, the movement of his Adam’s apple catching the light. The soft glow of the club outlines the sharpness of his frame and face—defined jaw, firm lips, and those eyes… eyes that lock with mine, freezing my movements as I stare back.

I don’t know who he is, but something about him pulls me in—something that makes me want to know more, even though I’m sure it’s a mistake.

Before I can lose myself in that thought, I feel a rough hand grab my waist from behind, gripping hard. My body stiffens, the air forced from my lungs. It’s that man—the one who came too close—now thinking he has the right to touch me without permission.

“Come on, princess, no need to dance all by yourself,” he murmurs in my ear, his voice thick with malice.

My first instinct is to fight, to shove him away, but his grip is too strong—I can’t move. That only fuels the fire of anger burning inside me.

“Let go of me!” I try to pull away, but he holds on tighter, his lips grazing my neck and making my skin crawl.

“You smell so good, princess.”

Just as I’m about to fight back, everything happens so fast I barely have time to react.

Suddenly, the heat behind me vanishes. The man is yanked away with such force that I stumble forward. When I turn around, still disoriented, I see the same blond man from upstairs now behind my attacker, holding him by the collar with terrifying ease.

“I don’t think she asked for your company,” he says, his voice low, laced with a threat that twists my stomach. The look in his eyes is deadly—like he’s one second away from doing something violent if the other guy doesn’t back off.

The man who tried to grab me stammers something in return, struggling to break free, but the blond doesn’t budge—he just tightens his grip, making the guy wince in pain.

“If I were you, I’d walk away before this gets worse,” he adds, voice calm—but there’s something in it, something that makes it clear he’s not bluffing.

With a desperate look, the man finally nods, and the blond shoves him away hard enough to nearly knock him over. My attacker vanishes into the crowd, clearly terrified.

My breathing is quick, my heart pounding out of control, but the blond turns to me, closing the space between us.

“Alone in a nightclub?” he asks, those piercing blue eyes locked onto mine—so intense it feels like I’m being pulled into them.

“And who said I’m alone?” I reply, lifting my chin and meeting his gaze. I won’t let him see the chill that just crept into my stomach.

A faint smirk touches his lips. He raises a thumb to his mouth, slowly running it across his bottom lip as he studies me, his eyes scanning my face.

“So where’s your company, then? If it were me, I wouldn’t let someone who... draws that much attention dance like that alone.”

My mind races, trying to decipher his words. I hate how inexperienced I am with men—what is he really saying? He’s challenging me in a way few ever dare, and it both irritates and excites me.

“Maybe my company is watching me right now,” I reply, trying to keep my voice steady. “And maybe he enjoys it just as much as I do.”

He chuckles—a low, rough sound that sends a shiver through me. “Interesting…” His eyes gleam with amusement, clearly teasing me. He’s playing a game—testing how far I’ll go.

I cross my arms, standing my ground, even though his nearness is affecting me more than I’d like to admit.