Page 19 of Fanged Desire
“You can and you will,” Hunter cut in sharply, unlocking the car door and pulling it open for me. “Ethan will cover for you. You’re not going back in there, not after what just happened.”
The authority in her voice startled me into silence and I slumped into the passenger seat, all adrenaline surging out of my body at once. I felt deflated, too exhausted to put up a fight.
I fished out my phone with shaky fingers as Hunter slid into the driver’s seat and started the engine. It took multiple tries, but I managed to type out a message to Ethan. He was good at spinning stories, he could tell the manager I felt sick and had to leave early.
The silence in the vehicle was heavy as we pulled out onto the street. Hunter kept her eyes on the road, her jaw clenched. I could feel her gaze flicker toward me every few moments, but she stayed silent, waiting for me to speak first. She had just saved my life, no question about it, but the way she had done it – the effortless brutality – left me rattled.
The pounding in my head grew louder, blood rushing in my ears. Somewhere in the far corners of my mind, a part of me recognized that I was teetering on the edge of a panic attack. I tried to slow my breathing, focusing on the sound of the engine, the texture of the leather seat, and the wobbling glow of the headlights on the road ahead.
“Who the hell were those guys?” I said it in an exhale, breaking the silence. I needed something to focus on, a problem to solve. Anything to quiet the racket in my head.
Hunter didn’t answer right away. Her knuckles whitened on the steering wheel, eyes locked on the road.
“Doesn’t matter,” she muttered, her voice low and bristling with barely contained fury. “They’re not coming after you again.”
I swallowed, heart still racing. I felt like I should be asking more questions, but part of me was too shaken to push. I had to regain my composure, to remind myself that I wasn’t the helpless woman those men had thought I was. I stared ahead, listless in my seat as I wrestled internally with my raging emotions.
After what felt like an eternity and two seconds all at once, Hunter pulled the car over to the curb and cut the engine. I could feel her eyes on me, and I slowly turned to look at her. She studied me for a long moment, gaze traveling from my trembling hands to what I assumed was my very pale face.
“You okay?” she asked, her voice soft for the first time that night. The harsh edge was gone, replaced by something almost gentle.
My breath hitched as I met her gaze. I wanted to say I was fine, that I could handle it. But I wasn’t. Not after this. The weight of it all – the attack, Penelope, the fact that I might have been found out – suddenly felt crushing.
“I don’t know,” I whispered, voice trembling uncontrollably. "I just – I have to go back."
Hunter’s lips pressed into a hard line, disbelief in her expression. "Back? You can’t be serious."
I sucked in a breath, my hands balling into fists in my lap. "I can’t afford to lose my job at the club. It’s… it’s important."
"Important?" Hunter repeated, her voice heavy with skepticism. "Kinsley, you just got jumped. There are plenty ofother clubs that would kill to have you. You don’t have to stay there – hell, youshouldn’tstay there."
"It’s not that simple!" My voice was shrill, boarding on hysteria, and I struggled to reel it in. Hunter's brow furrowed, concern laced with frustration etched across her face, but I pushed on. "I need that job, Hunter. It’s not just about dancing. It’s about – it’s about Penelope."
It slipped out then, a bitter truth I had tried so hard to hide. I could see the confusion flicker across Hunter’s face.
"Okay. Who’s Penelope?" she asked, her voice low and careful.
I exhaled a shaky breath, feeling the dam I’d so carefully built finally overflowing. "Penelope is my sister.”
The confession felt raw and vulnerable. I hated it, but there was no point in pretending I was anything other than devastated. The attack had hammered home what I’d known all along. I was out of my depth, and alone, facing impossible odds, chasing after a ghost.
I sucked in a ragged breath as the tears began to fall, trying in vain to wipe them away and only succeeding in smudging my makeup.
“I’m not just a dancer,” I sobbed, hiding in my hair as Hunter’s eyes widened at my outburst. “Hell, my name’s not even Kinsley.”
Hunter’s brow furrowed and she waited, her gaze locked onto my face.
"My name is Addison. I’m a doctor, or… I was, before all of this.” My voice shook as the words rattled out, guttering to a halt at the end. “Before Penelope disappeared.”
Hunter’s expression shifted, her eyes narrowing slightly as she tried to process the sudden shift.
"Addison…" she repeated softly, testing the name out as though it would help her understand. "You’re a doctor?"
I nodded, throat tightening as the words began to spill out. "I didn’t start dancing because I wanted to. I started because Penelope disappeared from the club –thatclub, Micere. I had to do something, so I – " I swallowed hard, fingers trembling as I gripped my knees. "Ethan and I, we’ve been searching for her, I’ve been working at the club because it’s the only lead I have."
Hunter was silent, her face unreadable as I continued.
"The police gave up. They said there was no evidence of foul play, no signs of a struggle, nothing. But I know something happened to her. I just–"
