****Tyler's pov****
I sat on the balcony, lost in thought, my mind racing with anxiety. The conversation with the doctor still lingered in my head, and I couldn't shake off the feeling of unease. The possibility of getting pregnant and the risks associated with the substance in my system weighed heavily on my mind.
As I sat there, my nervousness grew, and I felt like I was on edge. The thought of the potential consequences was overwhelming, and I couldn't help but wonder what the future held. I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself down, but my mind kept wandering back to the uncertainty that lay ahead.
I was so caught up in my thoughts that I didn't even notice the guy from yesterday standing there, watching me. It wasn't until he tapped me on the shoulder and gazed into my eyes that I snapped back to reality. His words, "You are so lost," struck a chord, and I felt a bit self-conscious about being so absorbed in my own world.
Without responding or meeting his gaze, I quickly left the balcony, trying to escape the awkwardness of the moment. I didn't want to engage with him, not yet, anyway. I needed some time to process my thoughts and emotions before dealing with him again.
I stepped out of the house, feeling the need to clear my head and escape the weight of my thoughts. I got into my car and drove towards the countryside, the open road and scenic views offering a sense of freedom. As I arrived at the club, the pulsating music and lively atmosphere beckoned me, promising a temporary reprieve from my worries. I stepped inside, letting the rhythm and energy of the club wash over me, hoping to lose myself in the moment.
***Unknown pov****
I tried to blend into the crowd, not wanting to draw attention to myself, especially since I suspected Tyler might be the killer. I thought about how quiet and sneaky he was, and how my brother seemed oblivious to it. I expected mates to be open and honest with each other, but Tyler's silence raised red flags.
Just as I was lost in thought, my brother Tyke appeared behind me, calling out my name. "James!" He asked, "Why are you so lost?" I hesitated, unsure how much to reveal, but decided to probe a bit.
"Nothing, I was just wondering if there's any hidden identity beneath his surface," I said, referring to Tyler.
Tyke's curiosity was piqued, and he asked, "Who is it?" I replied,
"Mate, your mate." He pressed for more information, asking, "What about him?" But I didn't answer, instead choosing to gaze off into the distance, lost in thought, and taking in the view. I wasn't sure how to bring it up to Tyrant without sounding paranoid or accusatory.
I knew it wouldn't be easy to convince my brother about my suspicions, especially when it came to his mate. Mates were supposed to be sacred, and it was hard for someone to believe that their mate might be hiding something. I thought about sharing my concerns with Tyrant, but I was hesitant, knowing he might not take it well.
Just as I was weighing my options, my wolf's voice chimed in, urging me to at least try to talk to Tyrant about it. "At least try," he said. But I shut him out, wondering if Tyrant would even listen to my concerns or if he would just dismiss them, blinded by his loyalty to his mate.
****Tyler's pov***
As time passed by, I noticed it was getting dark outside, the neon lights of the club casting a dim glow over the crowded room. Although I was a bit tipsy, I'd been nursing my drink since morning, trying to soothe my mind and drown my worries. The music pulsed through my veins, but my thoughts lingered on the edge of unease.
Suddenly, the atmosphere in the club thickened, like a heavy fog rolling in. For one second, I realized many things could go wrong if not taken care of, especially in a place like this. Something seemed off lately, and I couldn't shake the feeling that I was being watched. Trying to brush off the tense moment, I continued to act as if nothing was wrong and took another sip from my glass, the liquor burning slightly as it went down.
But my instincts were screaming at me to be alert. I glanced around the room, my eyes scanning the crowd, but everyone seemed oblivious to the tension I felt. And then, without warning, there was a gunshot. The sound was deafening, and I felt a jolt of adrenaline as the music screeched to a halt. I had actually anticipated the incident, but I didn't think it would be this way. Two more gunshots were heard, and the whole club erupted into chaos.
The young stars and partygoers were forced to evade the club, screaming and pushing to get out of the way. But I sat still, my eyes fixed on the scene unfolding before me. I knew I shouldn't draw attention to myself, not now, not here. My mind was racing, trying to piece together what was happening and why. Who was behind the gunshots? And what did they want?
As the panic spread, I remained frozen in my seat, my drink still clutched in my hand. I was a stranger in this place, but somehow, I felt like I was the only one who knew what was really going on. The question was, what would happen next?
As the whole club went quiet, I was the only one remaining, a lone figure amidst the shattered glass and overturned tables. The neon lights cast an eerie glow on the scene, and the music that once pulsed through the room was now replaced with an unsettling silence. Suddenly, the club was filled with men in suits, their faces expressionless, their eyes scanning the room with a calculated precision. They moved with a synchronized ease, their movements choreographed to perfection. It was clear they were assassins, and I was their target.
But why? What had I done to warrant such attention? I watched as one of them came up to me, a gun held casually in his hand. "It's better for you to come with us, Mr.," he said, his voice calm and detached, but with an undercurrent of menace that sent a shiver down my spine. The way he addressed me, with a pause after "Mr.," implied he knew my name, but I had no idea who he was or what he wanted.
I spat at his face, the glob of saliva landing squarely on his cheek. "I would have preferred the hard way," I said, my voice steady, my eyes locked on his. With a swift move, I punched his gut, feeling a satisfying crunch as my fist connected with his abdomen. He doubled over, gasping for breath, but his eyes never left mine, a cold calculation burning within them.
Immediately, the club erupted into chaos once more, gunfire filling the air as the assassins opened fire. I used the guy as a cover, shielding myself from the hail of bullets as I skillfully took out one of them with a swift kick to the knee, followed by a precise strike to the neck. The sound of his body hitting the floor was lost in the din of gunfire.
With another swift move, I hid behind the bartender's spot, the wooden counter providing a flimsy barrier between me and the assassins. I peered over the edge, my eyes scanning the room for any sign of movement. The assassins were closing in, their guns drawn, their faces set in determined lines. I knew I had to act fast if I wanted to survive.