Beneath The Surface - DNF

Chapter 6

Dream slammed the door of his penthouse shut, the echo reverberating through the spacious, dimly lit room. The city lights flickered outside the large windows, casting a faint glow that did little to ease the frustration burning in his chest. His encounter with George at the club had left him on edge—no, more than that—it had rattled him in a way he hadn't experienced in years. What the fuck was wrong with George, what was his deal? Why behave like such a brat?

He ran a hand through his blonde hair, trying to suppress the irritation that gnawed at him. George had dismissed him, played him like a fool, and Dream hated feeling out of control. He wasn't the type to sit back and let things slip through his fingers. No, when something—or someone—caught his interest, he pursued it relentlessly until he had it in his grasp.

Grabbing his phone, Dream scrolled through his contacts until he found the name he was looking for. He hesitated for only a moment before tapping the screen, bringing the phone to his ear. The line rang twice before a gruff voice answered on the other end.

"Hey Boss what's up?"

"Trace him," Dream said, cutting straight to the point. "I want George Davidson's, the owner of the most famous strip club in this area exact location, and I want it now."

There was a pause on the other end, the sound of rapid typing filling the silence. "Got it. Give me a minute."

Dream paced the length of the room, his mind racing. This wasn't just about business anymore—this was personal. George had gotten under his skin in a way that no one else ever had, and Dream was determined to figure out why. He needed to see George again, to confront him, to gain the upper hand in this twisted game they were playing.

After what felt like an eternity, his phone buzzed. "I've got a location," his guy said, sending the coordinates to Dream's phone. "But... it's strange, boss. The place is practically off the grid. Looks abandoned, not somewhere you'd expect to find someone like George."

Dream's brow furrowed. "I don't care. Send me the details."

Another buzz, and the location appeared on his screen. Dream didn't waste any time. He grabbed his jacket, checking the time—late enough that the city streets would be quiet, perfect for what he had in mind. His frustration had morphed into cold determination. Whatever George was playing at, Dream was ready to face it head-on.

As Dream reached for his car keys, a knock on the door pulled him from his thoughts. He glanced at the clock—2 AM. Not exactly visiting hours. But there was only one person who'd show up at this time unannounced. With a sigh, Dream opened the door to find Nick standing there, his usual smirk replaced by a more serious expression.

"It feels rare to see you in your own room these days," Nick said, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. "You weren't answering your phone."

"I've been busy," Dream replied, his tone clipped. "What do you need?"

Nick leaned against the wall, crossing his arms as he studied Dream. "You seem a bit more wound up than usual. Has something to do with that little visit to George's club tonight?"

Dream's eyes narrowed. "How do you know about that?"

Nick chuckled, though it lacked his usual warmth. "I make it my business to know what you're up to, especially when it looks like you're about to do something reckless. You're chasing after this guy like he's got the answers to the universe, and I don't get it. What's the play here, Dream?"

Dream ran a hand over his face, his frustration flaring up again. "There's something about him, Nick. He's more than just attractive, it's something I need to understand. And I'm not going to let him slip away just because things got complicated."

Nick raised an eyebrow. "Complicated? That's one way to put it. Look, I know you're not going to let this go, but don't forget who you are. Don't let him mess with your head."

Dream's jaw tightened. "I'm not losing control, Nick. I know what I'm doing."

Nick studied him for a long moment, then nodded. "Alright, but just remember—I've got your back, even if you're diving headfirst into something dangerous."

Dream's expression softened slightly. "Thanks, Nick."

Nick pushed off the wall, his smirk returning. "Don't mention it. Just... try not to get yourself killed, okay?"

Dream chuckled, the tension easing for a moment. "No promises."

As Nick left, Dream felt a bit more grounded. He appreciated Nick's concern, but he wasn't going to be swayed. George had challenged him, and Dream never backed down from a challenge.

The drive to the location was a blur of city lights and shadows. Dream's mind was laser-focused on the task at hand, his frustration simmering just beneath the surface. The coordinates led him to the outskirts of town, a place where the bright lights of the city gave way to dilapidated buildings and forgotten streets.

He pulled up in front of a crumbling warehouse, its exterior battered by time and neglect. The windows were shattered, and the once-bold paint had faded into a dull, peeling mess. Dream stared at the building, a sense of unease settling in his gut. This was the last place he expected to find George, but the coordinates didn't lie.

Dream stepped out of his car, his footsteps echoing against the concrete as he approached the entrance. The heavy door creaked as he pushed it open, revealing the dark, musty interior. The air was thick with dust, and the faint smell of decay lingered in the corners. Dream's instincts told him to be cautious, but his determination drove him forward.

The inside of the warehouse was a maze of empty corridors and forgotten rooms, each one more desolate than the last. Dream's senses were on high alert, every creak and distant sound making his heart race with anticipation. The only light came from his phone, casting long shadows that danced eerily along the walls.

Dream's footsteps echoed in the silence as he made his way deeper into the building. He felt like he was being watched, though he saw no one. The whole place felt like a trap, a setup designed to lure him in. But Dream wasn't afraid of traps—he was the one who usually set them.

As he reached the heart of the building, the tension grew unbearable. Dream stopped in what seemed like the main room, his breath coming in steady but controlled. The silence was suffocating, broken only by the distant sound of dripping water.

Then, his phone buzzed.

Dream's heart skipped a beat as he pulled it out, his eyes narrowing at the screen. It was a message—from an unknown number. His fingers hovered over the screen for a moment before he opened it, and the words sent a chill down his spine:

"You think you can just walk in here? Not so easy, Clay. Let's see how determined you really are."

The words were a taunt, a challenge that felt like a punch to the gut. Dream's eyes scanned the empty room around him, the realization dawning that George had anticipated this. He had been led here, lured into a trap, and now he was being tested. But for what, exactly? That was the question that burned in his mind.

Dream clenched his jaw, his frustration mingling with a newfound resolve. If George wanted to play games, then Dream would play—but he would play to win.

Whatever was coming next, he was ready for it.