Yeah... something feels off

"I'll be back in a minute," I say to Ariadne and she nods briefly with a smile that seems too perfect to be sincere. Monica grabs my hand and steers me toward the restrooms. The thud of bass behind us fades a little with every step, and soon we’re near the shadowy corridor leading to the bathrooms, away from the noise and bar. Monica stops and turns to face me, eyes sharp with concern.

“What the hell are you doing with that redhead?” she asks, voice low.

I blink, caught off guard. “Ariadne?”

“No, the other redhead who’s been glued to you all night. Of course Ariadne.” Monica folds her arms. “Seriously, Thalia. Who is she?”

I hesitate, torn between brushing her off and admitting what’s been simmering in the back of my mind all night. “I don't know... she’s... interesting. Attractive. But yeah, I get it. There’s something... off about her.”

Monica nods quickly, like she’s relieved I’m not blind. “Exactly. She gives me the creeps. There’s something about her—cold, too perfect.”

“I know.” I lean against the wall, rubbing my forehead. “Listen… there’s something I haven’t told you.”

Monica arches an eyebrow. “Okay?”

“You remember that guy from the bar, the one who was asking about the missing girl? British or something?”

“Sure. The detective guy.”

“He showed up again. After what happened with Trevor. He stopped me in front of my home and asked questions. He said… there are things going on. Hidden forces, maybe even the police are compromised. I don’t know, he wasn’t exactly clear. But he said I was lucky. That it wasn’t her in that alley.”

Her face darkens. “And you’re just telling me now?”

“I didn’t want to freak you out.”

“Well, congrats, I’m freaked.” Monica bites her lip, her mind clearly racing. “You don’t think…? I mean, what if she’s involved in it? Did he mean her?”

“I don’t know. That sounds—”

“Far-fetched? Yeah, maybe. But maybe not. What if that woman, this Ariadne, is the one he meant? And now she’s here, at the same club, of all the people glued right to you?” Monica’s voice shakes just a little. “If she’s trying to tie up loose ends—”

“I’m not a loose end.”

“You might be. We don't know what really happened in that alley. Maybe it's some dangerous mob business gone wrong, who knows?” Monica’s eyes are a little too wide now. She glances toward the main room, then back at me. “Okay, we need to play this smart. I’ll go back. Keep her distracted, act normal. You slip out. Head home. Just get out of here.”

“You’re serious?”

“Dead serious.”

I nod slowly. “Fine. Just text me once she leaves.”

Monica gives me a quick hug, but it lingers. She holds on for a second longer than usual, like there’s something she’s not saying. I catch it, a strange heaviness in her eyes.

“You okay?” I ask.

“Yeah,” she lies. “Just… be careful.”

She heads back into the pulsing lights, swallowed by the crowd.

I step into the humid night, the pounding bass fading behind me. I lean against the building, pull out my vape, and take a slow drag. My hand trembles slightly, but I ignore it.

You’re not scared of her, I tell myself. She’s just a woman. A ridiculously beautiful one, yeah, but that’s not a crime. You’re not Monica—panicking over shadows. You’re fine.

The phone buzzes.

MONICA: she’s gone. ryan says she left right after we went to the bathroom

“What?” I whisper, spinning around like she might be right behind me. But there’s no sign of Ariadne. The sidewalk is half-empty, a few groups laughing by the curb, a couple stumbling drunks. No red hair. No icy eyes.

I pull up my rideshare app. Closest available driver is two blocks away, stuck behind traffic.

Fine. Just a short walk. Sounds better than walking back there to paranoid Monica.

I head down the street, the only sound are my heels clicking against the pavement. The buildings are quieter here—bars giving way to shuttered shops and dark alleys.

Something tugs at the back of my mind. The hairs on my neck stand up. I grip my vape tighter.

Stop it. You’re imagining things. You’re not some helpless girl in a horror movie.

But my legs feel heavier with each step. My fingers are ice cold. I glance over my shoulder again, for no reason. No one’s there.

Just as I pass the mouth of a narrow alleyway, I feel a cold, unnatural chill. Like the temperature just dropped ten degrees.

Then—

A hand grabs my wrist. Steel fingers wrap around it and yank me sideways.

A scream rises in my throat, but it’s too late. I’m already in the shadows.

Ariadne.