Hunting Her

Chapter 31

The bass from the club's sound system vibrated through the pavement as I approached the entrance, the rhythmic thump setting the pace for my heartbeat. Neon lights flickered in sync with the music, casting colourful shadows across the faces of the crowd waiting to get inside. I took a deep breath, adjusting my dress—it left so little to the imagination and it something I was truly uncomfortable in. 

I skipped past the lengthy line and strutted up to the bouncer. The bouncer eyed me up and down, his expression a mix of curiosity and lust. I gave him a wide, sloppy grin and stumbled slightly, leaning into him for support. "Hey, handsome," I slurred, batting my eyelashes. "Mind letting a girl in?"

He hesitated for a moment, then shrugged and unhooked the velvet rope, allowing me to stagger inside. The heat and noise of the club hit me like a wave, the mingling scents of sweat, alcohol, and perfume overwhelming my senses. I weaved through the throng of bodies, swaying and giggling, drawing more than a few curious and appreciative glances. I could feel eyes on me from all directions. Perfect.

I made my way to the bar, leaning heavily against it and waving down the bartender. "Tequila!" I shouted over the pounding music. The bartender, a young guy with a sympathetic smile, nodded and lined up a series of shot glasses. I downed the first one with an exaggerated wince and then the next, letting the alcohol burn its way down my throat. The world seemed to blur slightly, the edges of reality softening.

"Calm down on the shots, you're supposed to pretend you're drunk, not actually get drunk." Hunter's voice came echoing through the earpiece. I glanced around, immediately spotted Hercules on the dance floor. He winked as he spotted me looking. I turned away and found Cam in the corner of the club, looking like he'd rather be anywhere else, and finally I looked down the bar. 

Hunter was leaned against the other end, a disapproving look on his face as he gave me a tight-lipped smile. I drew my eyes away and allowed them to fall on the bartender, I bat my eyelashes and smiled. The bartender smiled back, "they're on the house." 

"Do one with me?" I giggled, pushing a shot towards him whilst taking the final shot in my hands. 

"Really?" Hunter asked, his tone laced with annoyance. 

The bartender and I clinked glasses, he downed his in one and I split mine. "Oh my gosh, I am so sorry." I said, with a little pout. 

The bartender waved me off. "Don't worry about it." 

"You're so sweet." I said wrinkling my nose before turning around and leaning against the bar. Quietly I whispered, "it's for show, mind your business." My eyes darted to Hunter ensuring he got the message and he smirked in response. My dyed blonde hair fell in loose waves around my shoulders, and I swept the strands behind me, as I scanned the room.

I'd drawn a good amount of attention when I entered, but there were a group of men huddled in the VIP section, and they were not looking at me at all. And they were clearly the target. With a drunken smile plastered on my face, I stumbled away from the bar and made my way to the dance floor. The music pulsed through my body, and I let myself get lost in it, swaying and moving with abandon. 

I used to be a terrible dancer. Parker told me so whenever we used to escape the academy at night to go clubbing with everyone else. He took it upon himself to teach me how to move to the music, to feel the beat and let it wash over me as I danced. So, I used his advice, I threw my arms up, running my hands through my hair, and let out a wild, joyful laugh that carried over the music. I could feel the crowd's energy shifting towards me, drawn in by the spectacle of a beautiful girl seemingly losing herself in the music and alcohol.

As I danced, I allowed my movements to grow more erratic, more desperate. I twirled and stumbled, nearly falling but catching myself just in time. I could see people whispering, pointing, and I made eye contact with a few, giving them a broken, vulnerable smile. The act was perfect. The more attention I drew, the more eyes were on me, the more likely it was that my target would notice.