The Sinner's Club [18+] Complete

chapter forty-five.

THE ACHE IN my head is sharp, like a hangover. I feel sick in the stomach too.

When I blearily open my eyes, the light from the streetlamp above me streams in through hazy lines. I push myself onto my hands, confused as I stare around at the empty street.

What happened?

It comes back to me in a rush. "Elodie," I breathe, stumbling to my feet, struggling to stay upright as my vision swims. "Elodie!" I scream, even though it's clear she's gone. The street is utterly devoid of life. How long was I unconscious?

This can't be happening, I can't have lost her, not after everything I did to keep her by my side. With trembling hands, I reach into the back pocket of my jeans and pull out my phone. But my hard fall to the ground has smashed it beyond repair, and it won't turn on.

Panic is a quickening of the heart, perhaps a pain in the chest, some sweat on the brow. This is beyond panic. It is blinding fear, an anxiety attack that never ends, a nightmare that I can't wake up from.

I start running. Feet pounding on the pavement, legs pumping as fast as they'll take me, I run. And run and run. Even when my lungs scream, and my vision nosedives, and I am sure I'm going to pass out again, I keep running.

Through back alleys and across busy roads, past rows of houses and then a few factory outlets.

Finally, after so long, I reach the club.

Pulsing music greets me; I am too distracted to take in anything else. I filter out all the unnecessary commotion, focusing on what I need.

"Reaper!" I shout. He is across the room, but already pushing his way toward me. "Reaper!"

I am sure I look insane—blood trickles down my temple, my hair is a mess, I am panting fiercely, and my shirt is ripped. But I don't care. It doesn't matter; nothing matters except my sister.

"Amelia? What's wrong?" He is confused, dark eyebrows furrowed over icy eyes.

"He took her. He was there and he shoved me down and I passed out and she's gone and I have to get her back, he can't have her, he can't–"

"Stop, stop." Reaper's hands on my arms only serve to irritate me more.

"I can't! I have to get her back. Please, you have to help me." I am crying and begging, a mess in the middle of the club.

"Slow down. You need to explain to me what happened. It's going to be alright–"

But the hysteria has taken hold, gripping me tight and refusing to let go. The pounding pain in my head probably isn't helping either.

"No, no!" I shout, batting my hands against his sturdy chest. Is the liquid currently sliding down my cheek blood or tears?

Through the fray, I see another familiar face. He is already striding toward us.

"Nate!" I call out, stumbling past Reaper. At that point, my legs give out completely, and I trip forward. Nathaniel catches me in his arms, holding me against his chest. I sob so hard that my entire body shakes, gripping the lapels of his suit jacket. My vision is blotchy, black dots appearing and disappearing in patterns. I look up into his eyes, into dark pits that somehow seem safe right about now. "He took Elodie," I whisper.

Nathaniel shouldn't be able to hear me over the fierce pounding of the music, but somehow he does. For a moment, shock passes over his features. But it is quickly replaced by a calm determination.

"Then we'll get her back," is all he replies, so sure of himself that it sounds like a promise.

Reaper comes up behind me and lifts me into his arms. I am in and out of consciousness, my face burrowing into his neck, as he carries me away from the music, down the hallway and into a room I haven't been in before. It's at the very back of the club, forbidden for most employees to enter.