Chapter 2 Episode 2

Chapter 2

Elena's POV

I ran as fast as my legs could carry me, my heart pounding in my chest. I didn't dare look back, afraid that those thugs might be chasing me. Finally, I reached a busy street, and I slowed down, trying to catch my breath.

As I walked, I realized I was in a part of town I usually only saw from the window of my mother's car. The streets looked so different up close, so odd and unfamiliar. I passed by girls in short skirts and revealing clothes, standing outside of clubs and bars.

One club in particular caught my eye. It was called "Heart of Holmes," and I knew it was owned by Bryon's stepbrother, Peter. People said he was the worst son of Henry Holmes, but his father had given him access to all his properties before he died. Bryon, on the other hand, hadn't inherited anything. He was only a Holmes in name.

I remembered how Bryon had dated me for my parents' wealth and fame. But now that the tables had turned, he had run away, leaving me alone and heartbroken.

Without really thinking about it, I walked into the club. The music was loud, and the air was thick with the smell of alcohol and sweat. I made my way to the bar and ordered a whiskey. The bartender slid the glass towards me, and I downed it in one gulp.

I kept drinking, shot after shot, until the world started to blur around the edges. I was drunk, and I didn't care.

Suddenly, I heard a woman's voice nearby. "Isn't that Peter himself, sitting over there?"

I turned and saw him, surrounded by a group of girls. They were dancing around him, their bodies moving in a way that was almost obscene. I felt a surge of anger and jealousy. I wanted revenge. I wanted to hurt Bryon the way he had hurt me.

An idea formed in my mind. What if I had a wild night with Peter, Bryon's stepbrother? Wouldn't that be the perfect way to get back at him?

I let my hair down and tied my shirt so that it showed off my curves. I walked over to Peter, swaying my hips in a way I never had before.

"I'd like to have a drink with this charming prince, girls," I said, my voice slurring slightly.

The three girls dancing with Peter looked at me, their eyes narrowing. But they knew better than to argue. They left without a word.

I sat down next to Peter, putting my hand on his arm. "Just one dance," I said, my words coming out in a purr.

Peter looked at me, surprise written all over his face. "What do you think Bryon will say about this?" he asked.

I laughed, the sound harsh and bitter. "Who cares what Bryon will say?" I replied.

Peter smiled, a slow, cruel smile. "Oh, that's right. He dumped you, didn't he? After the incident with your mother..."

I didn't let him finish. I leaned forward and pressed my lips against his, cutting off his words. He tasted like whiskey and cigarettes.

Peter pulled back, his eyes wide. "Are you serious about this, Elena?" he asked.

I nodded, giggling like a schoolgirl. I grabbed another drink from the table and downed it in one gulp.

"Let's get out of here," I said, standing up and grabbing Peter's hand.

He followed me out of the club, a smirk on his face. I knew what I was doing was wrong, but I didn't care. I wanted to feel something, anything, other than the pain and heartbreak that had been consuming me.

We got into Peter's car, and he started driving. I didn't ask where we were going. I didn't care.

As we drove, I leaned over and started kissing Peter's neck. He moaned, his hands tightening on the steering wheel.

Peter and I stumbled into his bedroom, our bodies intertwined as we kissed passionately. My mind was foggy from the alcohol coursing through my veins, but I knew exactly what I wanted in that moment. I craved his touch, yearning to feel something, anything, that would dull the ache in my shattered heart.

As Peter's hands roamed my body, he leaned in close, his breath hot against my ear. "Just remember, I'm not the romantic type," he growled.

A bitter laugh escaped my lips. "Romance? That's the last thing on my mind. My heart's already in pieces."

I pulled him closer, desperate to lose myself in his embrace and forget the pain, even if only for a little while. We shed our clothing as we made our way to the bed, hands exploring each other with frenzied urgency.

"This is all about revenge, isn't it?" Peter asked, hovering over me, his eyes dark with desire.

I shook my head, trying to gather my hazy thoughts. "No, I just need to forget. For one night, I want to drown out the grief that's suffocating me."

In response, he captured my mouth in a searing kiss, his touch growing more insistent. I surrendered to the sensations, letting the wave of pleasure numb the raw ache in my chest.

We moved together in a heated tangle of limbs, losing ourselves in the carnal desire that consumed us both. I clung to Peter, nails digging into his back, as if I could anchor myself to this moment and keep the pain at bay through sheer force of will.

But even as I lost myself in his arms, a small, sober voice in the back of my mind whispered a warning - that this path led nowhere good. I was playing a dangerous game, dancing on the edge of self-destruction. Deep down, I knew the temporary escape wasn't worth the inevitable crash and burn.

Yet I silenced the voice, pushing the thoughts away. For now, I just needed to feel something besides the gaping emptiness inside. The consequences could wait until tomorrow.

As we lay tangled in the sheets afterwards, our breathing ragged, a sudden knock at the door jolted me back to reality. Peter rose to answer it, and I heard hushed, urgent voices in the hallway.

He returned with a grim expression, his earlier swagger gone. "You need to go. Now," he said tersely, tossing my clothes at me.

"What? Why?" I asked, confusion cutting through the pleasant haze.

"Just trust me, you don't want to be here right now. I'll explain later." His tone left no room for argument.

Feeling like I'd been doused in ice water, I quickly got dressed, my stomach churning with a sickening mix of regret and dread. What had I gotten myself into?

Peter all but pushed me out the door, glancing over his shoulder furtively as if expecting trouble. The door slammed shut behind me with an ominous finality.

I stood there for a moment, stunned, my mind reeling. In the harsh light of the hallway, the full weight of my choices came crashing down on me. Shame burned in my throat as hot tears pricked at my eyes.

What had I done? And what fresh hell awaited me now?