Velvet Shadows

XXII

The rain pounded down in torrents, soaking Angel to the bone, each droplet a cold reminder of the night's relentless assault. Her clothes clung to her like a second skin, heavy with water, each step an agonizing effort as the weight of the night bore down on her.

Blisters, raw and tender from hours of dancing, throbbed with every painful step.

Exhaustion clouded her mind, her vision blurring as the alcohol she'd consumed dulled her senses, turning the world around her into a distant, surreal haze. The waves crashed furiously against the shore, their roar blending with the howl of the wind as it lashed her wet hair across her face, leaving her feeling more vulnerable and lost with every passing second.

She passed the beach bar, its windows dark and empty, and the old pier where her father had once taken her to watch the fishermen.

The memory struck her like a wave, the image of her father's warm smile flickering in her mind before it was swallowed by the sea of uncertainty that had plagued her for years. She could barely remember his face, the sound of his voice, or the comfort of his presence. All she had left were fragments, and they were slipping away, just like him.

A tear slipped down her cheek, indistinguishable from the rain, as she tried to suppress the rising tide of anxiety within her.

Clutching the bag of money tightly to her chest, Angel forced herself to keep moving, every step an act of sheer will. The deserted streets around her were eerily quiet, the familiar hum of the city replaced by something far more ominous.

The once comforting beachfront had faded into the shadows of a rougher part of town, where the darkness seemed to cling to every corner.

Here, society's forgotten gathered in huddled clusters beneath makeshift shelters, their faces gaunt and eyes hollow, reflecting the flickering light of a trash can fire. The flames cast eerie, shifting shadows that danced across their worn features, their watchful gazes tracking her every move, filled with a silent, unsettling hunger.

"Hey, pretty lady," a man called out, his voice slurred, thick with years of rough living. He emerged from the shadows, his clothes tattered and wet. "You got any change? Or maybe something stronger?"

Angel recoiled, instinctively clutching the bag of money tighter to her chest. "I don't have anything," she muttered, her voice shaky, trying to keep moving.

Another figure stepped into her path, a woman with sunken cheeks and eyes that had long since lost their light. "Don't lie, girl," the woman hissed. "We can see you're carrying something. Share a little, won't you?"

The man from earlier moved closer, his breath reeking of alcohol and desperation. "Come on, sweetheart. Just a little. Or maybe... we can work out another kind of deal."

Angel's heart raced as she took a step back, her pulse pounding in her ears. The crowd around her seemed to close in, their voices blending into a cacophony of demands, pleas, and sinister suggestions. She felt trapped, her mind racing as she tried to find a way out, but the rain blurred everything, turning the world into a nightmarish haze.

"Get away from me," she said, her voice trembling as she tried to muster whatever strength she had left. But the words felt weak, powerless against the rising tide of desperation around her.

Just as the panic began to choke her, a pair of headlights cut through the darkness, the beam slicing through the rain and illuminating the scene in stark relief.

A Bugatti skidded to a halt just feet away from her, the tires splashing water up onto the pavement.

The door swung open with a forceful thud, and before Angel could react, a tall, commanding figure stepped out into the storm.