Page 6 of King of Power

Lydia shakes her head frantically, glancing nervously at the door as if expecting it to burst open any second. “Evelyn, calm down. We need to stay calm.”

“I don’t know if I can. They can’t lock us up.” I pace back and forth now, hands clenched into fists at my sides.

The walls close in around me. Every second that passes feels like an eternity spent in limbo while frustration pulses through me like fire.

Time stretches, and my anxiety heightens as I pace the small room. Each minute drags on. I pound on the door again, each thump echoing in my chest, my heart racing in time with my escalating anxiety.

I feel trapped. It’s a bleak reminder of what Ryan did during those last days of our marriage. I spent twelve hours locked in our bathroom before I finally broke out. That asshole was nowhere to be found.

“Evelyn,” Lydia whispers, her voice laced with concern. “Maybe we should just sit down?”

“No. We can’t just sit here like this,” I retort, teetering on the edge of sanity. “We have to get out.”

Every breath feels heavy as I glance at Olivia, who stands against the wall, biting her lip in worry. I want to scream that wedon’t deserve this—that we were just three women looking for a night of fun and distraction from our pasts. Just like I didn’t deserve to be locked up by Ryan because we had a fight.

The door swings open abruptly, forcing me to take a step back.

A second man strides into the room—tall and broad-shouldered. The moment he steps inside, a chill runs down my spine mixed with a thrill I can’t ignore. His presence envelops us like an electric charge. He’s strikingly handsome. Older, maybe mid-fifties. Dark hair flecked with silver frames his face, and his mostly gray beard adds a rugged allure that sends my heart racing against my better judgment.

There’s something familiar about him—a dangerous familiarity that speaks to some part of me yearning for connection. His dark eyes scan the room before landing on me, piercing right through my defenses. I know this man. But in my anxiety and frustration over our treatment, I can’t pinpoint how.

The air shifts, and I feel it before I see it—the tension crackling like static electricity.

He pulls his eyes from mine, and they bore into Olivia, his expression darkening as he takes in her presence. A flicker of recognition washes over his features, morphing into something more volatile.

“Olivia,” he snaps, his voice low and controlled but simmering with barely contained anger. “What the hell are you doing here?”

I shift uncomfortably at the sharpness of his tone, glancing between him and my friend. Confusion and surprise battle for my emotions. How does he know Olivia? And why does her presence make him so angry?

Olivia stares at him for far too long, like she’s equally shocked. Then she straightens her spine, lifting her chin defiantly. “I didn’t know you were in Columbus or that youowned this club.” Her voice wavers slightly but she presses on, determination lacing her words. “We just came to have a good time, to forget our troubles for one night.”

The man’s laugh is devoid of humor. “You brought a cop intomyclub.” He steps closer to her, towering like a storm cloud ready to unleash its fury. “Do you have any idea what kind of trouble you’re asking for?”

I can’t help but feel the heat rising in my cheeks. His gaze shifts to me again—dark and intense—assessing whether I’m an ally or a threat.

“Hey!” Olivia’s voice breaks through the haze. “I don’t want any trouble. I ran from that. We’re just here for a night out. I didn’t even know you were in Columbus. How could I know this was your club?”

My confusion fades into the shadows as something far more concerning tugs at my emotions. My anxiety and frustration dissipate and my mind clears, recognition swirling in my mind.

I scan his face again—those sharp features, his graying temples, the dark eyes holding an intensity I remember too well. Everything clicks into place.

Ezekiel King.

The man from my past—the one who made me feel again, made me feel safe, desired. Just when our connection was growing stronger and with a sense of permanence, he ghosted me. My breath hitches in my throat, memories flooding back uninvited: The warmth of his hand on my lower back as he leaned closer to whisper commands into my ear. The way he made me obey every single one of them, then gave me the best pleasure I’ve ever known. I had no idea a man could fuck like that and then kiss me with such tender affection.

He made me want things I never thought I’d want again. And then he vanished without a trace.

I close my eyes briefly, trying to drown out those flashes. Our intimate moments—how he brushed his thumb across my cheek with such tenderness while he pounded into me like a savage beast. Each kiss tasted like a promise. Each touch ignited something deep inside me I thought was lost forever.

But here he stands—guarding the door like some brooding sentinel—and it makes me feel small and exposed under his intense scrutiny.

His expression hardens as he shifts his focus back to Olivia, acting as if I’m a stranger. A nobody. “You shouldn’t have come here.”

A swell of anger rises within me, colliding with the remnants of attraction I felt for him back then. “Zeke. Are you really going to act like you don’t know me?” I snap, stepping forward defiantly despite the unease fluttering in my chest.

“Evelyn,” Zeke acknowledges with a slow drawl, his gaze lingering on me longer than necessary. I stumble backward and bump into the wall. That smirk appears briefly before he conceals it behind a mask of indifference again.

“You have no idea how much trouble this could bring.” His voice lowers as if we’re sharing some intimate secret only we understand—a whisper from our past that shouldn’t be happening here in this tense moment.

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