Page 9 of Forced By the Bratva King
At least I wasn’t falling for my best friend’s boyfriend. That was a huge relief. But the big question remained: Who was that man?
**********
Later that night, after all the fun time with Madelyn and her folks, she was already wasted and talking gibberish.
“Alright, let’s get you outta here,” Chris said, carrying her in arms.
“This is how you’re gonna carry me on our wedding night, Chris—I feel like a fucking bride!” she said, her voice rising and falling, a testament to the many glasses she’d had.
“She’s drunk,” Alice said, laughing. She was also drunk, but not like Madelyn.
We all stepped out of the club and headed to our various places, the noise fading as we left.
Madelyn belched. “Sierra, baby, I’ll be going home with Chris tonight. Hope you don’t mind.”
“I’m good,” I replied.
It was a good thing I came with my own car…speaking of cars. “Shit!” I exclaimed, rubbing my eyes.
“What is it?” Diego asked, helping a drunk Edmund stand on his feet.
“I forgot my keys back at our table,” I said.
“That’s not good,” Alice said. “You’re gonna have to push through the crowd at the front door. Look how long it took us to get out.”
Damn it, she was right.
“There’s another way inside,” Chris said, shutting the door of his car where Madelyn was cuddled up in the passenger seat.
“Really?” I asked, interested.
“Yeah, there’s a door at the back. You can use it to avoid the rush at the front gate.”
“Thank you,” I said, already in motion.
“Do you need company?” Colin asked, equally wasted.
I didn’t even need a second to consider his offer. “Nah, I’m good. But thanks.”
I left them and headed to the back.
It was quiet back, and the only sounds I could hear were those of the crickets, which was weird considering how loud the club was. I didn’t want to think much about the fact that there wasn’t a single person out here beside me.
“Just find the door and get in. How hard can that be?” I muttered to myself.
Suddenly, a loud thud startled me, accompanied by a muffled scream of someone in pain. I paused in my tracks, a sense of unease creeping up my spine. The sound seemed to have come from a dark alley, and I turned in that direction.
Bad idea, Sierra. Mind your own business.
The muffled sounds continued, and I was convinced that it was a struggle between two or more individuals.
“Shut the fuck up,” said a voice from the alley, probably the thickest and scariest I’d ever heard, sounding straight out of a horror movie.
“Shit!” I exclaimed softly, withdrawing my phone from my purse with shaky hands as I called the first number that came to mind.
It was obvious that someone was in trouble, and my conscience wouldn’t let me walk away.
Tiptoeing toward the alley, I snuck a peak and saw about six huge men surrounding a defenseless man who was begging with his hands. I couldn’t see his face nor the faces of the men who had him on his knees, but I did see that one of the men had a knife to the captive’s throat.