Love and Lethality

05 | Black Out

You know I don't believe in ghosts or
Letting people close
I'm good at letting go
-Living hell by Bella Poarch.

Black Out is located in downtown Manali where all the rich people with a stick up there ass live. The club holds and elite reputation among the upper class, if only they knew about the things happening behind closed door.

Sid pulls his Land Rover into the members-only parking lot, the glossy black SUV blending seamlessly with the other expensive vehicles. He's usually a biker boy but 'your safety is my priority' is what he said. As he kills the engine, I adjust my mask, tugging it securely over my face.

"Ready?" I ask, already knowing the answer. Steph is already closing the door with a loud thud.

He grins, his usual smug expression. "After you."

We pass through the velvet rope, the doorman giving Sid a nod of recognition as we head inside.

The smell of alcohol and sweat permeates the air, bodies wiggle and sway to the music as a trendy DJ plays one hit song after another in the background. The entire room is cast in blue and purple lighting with masked strangers all over the place, adding a touch of mysterious and intrigue.

Steph grabs my hand and practically drags me to the bar stools, in direct view of the bartender. He flashes us a charming smile.

"What can I get you lovely ladies?"

"4 shots of tequila"

"And a sparkling water." Sid requests, flashing him our VIP card. Smug bastard.

I eye him with suspicion. "Not drinking?" I ask, raising an eyebrow.

"Bodyguard duty, remember?" he replies. Oh!

I don't usually drink because it makes me giddy, and I often end up making the baddest of the bad decisions when I'm high on alcohol but it's not like I'm doing it with strangers.

We down our shots and Steph pulls me towards the dance floor while Sid takes a seat near the bar counter as he unhurriedly sips the liquid.

Steph's energy is electric, like a live wire, pulling me into her whirlwind. She jumps and twirls, dragging me along, laughing so loudly that it competes with the pulse of the music.

Every now and then, I catch glimpses of the crowd-a sea of masked faces and bodies swaying like they're all in sync with the beat. For a moment, I forget everything -Mr. Kapoor, the club, the mission. It's just me, the music, and the thumping bass.

Each song melts into the next, one rhythm blending into the other. My legs start to burn, and my feet feel like they're moving on autopilot. But I don't mind. The world around me is a blur of flashing lights, the scent of sweat mixed with perfume, and the heavy bass reverberating in my chest.