Chapter 3 2. Midnight's Vanishing Act

"ℑ 𝔰𝔞𝔴 𝔪𝔞𝔤𝔦𝔠 𝔦𝔫 𝔥𝔦𝔰 𝔢𝔶𝔢𝔰. 𝔇𝔦𝔯𝔱𝔶, 𝔡𝔞𝔯𝔨, 𝔟𝔢𝔞𝔲𝔱𝔦𝔣𝔲𝔩 𝔪𝔞𝔤𝔦𝔠."

- 𝔑𝔦𝔠𝔬𝔩𝔢 𝔏𝔶𝔬𝔫𝔰

[CAMI]

The bass thrums through my veins as I sip my drink, leaning against the bar. The club is just loud enough, just wild enough-exactly what I need tonight. No overthinking, no stress, no impending disaster looming over me. Just music, a drink, and the chance to momentarily forget about the corporate world that I have to dive into again tomorrow.

Claire leans into me, her blonde waves brushing against my shoulder as she nudges me with her elbow. "Cami, maroon shirt, two o'clock. He's staring at you."

I roll my eyes but can't help the slight lift of my lips. Claire has this awful habit of playing matchmaker whenever we go out. Still, I glance over my shoulder, keeping it casual. And, well-hello, tall, dark, and fine. The guy oozes confidence, one corner of his mouth tilting into a smirk as he raises his glass in a silent toast. Then... he winks.

Oh, fantastic. Another night, another guy trying his luck.

Claire giggles beside me. "Hot, right?"

I shrug, taking another sip of my drink. "He's alright, I guess."

"Oh, please."

Before I can respond, Jake returns from wherever he'd wandered off to, wrapping his arm around Claire's waist and pulling her into him. He presses a quick kiss to her temple. "Hope I'm not interrupting whatever secret girl talk is happening over here."

"You totally are," Claire teases, but she leans into him anyway.

Jake turns to me, raising a brow. "So? You making eyes at someone?"

I scoff. "What is this, high school?"

He laughs, shaking his head.

Okay, I'll admit it. He's hot. The kind of hot that makes you ignore all the red flags waving around him. But I've been down that road before, and it usually leads straight to disappointment. Still, a night of mindless fun wouldn't kill me. I'm not looking for anything serious. Not now. Someday, sure-I'll settle, pop out a kid or two, prove to myself that I can be a better mother than the one I had. But right now? I have a corporate ladder to climb, and tomorrow's presentation is going to test my sanity.

"Still thinking?" Claire teases.

Jake grins. "Come on, Cami, let me have my girlfriend to myself sometimes."

I laugh, leaning my elbows back on the glass counter. "Fine, fine. Go, dance. Be gross together."

Jake takes Claire's hand and leads her toward the dance floor. "Sorry, Cami!" she calls over her shoulder.

Jake's nice. Steady. The kind of guy who actually deserves Claire, which is a damn miracle because none of the idiots before him did. She's too good for this world-too soft, too bright, and way too trusting for her own good. She's been hurt before, and I'll be damned if I let it happen again.

Claire was just a convenient presence at first. A roommate, a classmate, a warm body to sit next to so I wouldn't look like some lonely loser in college. I didn't need friends. I didn't need attachments. I just needed to survive. And Claire? She was there, easy to keep around, easy to lean on when I felt like pretending I gave a damn about things like friendships and memories and all that sentimental crap.

But somehow, without me noticing, she became more.

I don't even know when it happened. Somewhere between late-night cram sessions, coffee-fueled rants about professors who didn't know how to teach, and laughing so hard we almost got kicked out of the library, she stopped being just some girl I hung out with. She became my person. My family.

When her mom died shortly after her step-father passed away, I should've done what I do best-keep my distance, crack a joke, move on. But I didn't. Because for the first time, I saw Claire break. And it wasn't the loud, dramatic kind of heartbreak. No, she shattered quietly. She stopped laughing so much, stopped filling every silence with her usual sunshine and stupid optimism. It was like the light in her dimmed, and I hated it.

So I stayed. I made sure she ate. I made sure she slept. I let her talk when she needed to, and when she didn't, I sat beside her in silence. And somehow, without realizing it, the cage around my heart-the one I spent years building-crumbled. And Claire slipped inside.

She's not just some college roommate I used to know anymore. She's my sister. And that means I've got something to lose.

Now she has found Jake. And she's happy with him. And me? I don't know.

I shake my head, exhaling as I close my eyes for a moment, letting the music settle into my bones.

Someday, I tell myself. Someday I'll have the kind of life that makes sense. A job that doesn't make me want to throw my laptop out the window. A home that isn't just a temporary pit stop between work and whatever half-hearted social event I force myself into. Someday, I'll enjoy life instead of just existing in it.

Or maybe I should stop reading all those self-help books and just accept that life is a mess.

"Not much of a dancer?"

I open my eyes and find Maroon Shirt Guy beside me, mimicking my stance against the bar.

I arch a brow. "Not much of a stranger-talker either."

He chuckles. "Good thing I'm not much of a stranger anymore."

"Says who?"

"Says Daniel." He extends a hand. "And you are?"

I glance at his hand but don't take it. "Cami."

He doesn't look fazed. "Cami. Short for anything?"

"Short for none of your business."

Daniel laughs, shaking his head. "Sassy. I like it."

"Most men think they do," I quip. "Until they realize they can't keep up."

He grins. "Try me."

I do. And to my surprise, he keeps up. He's sharp, quick-witted, doesn't take himself too seriously. For once, I don't feel like I'm carrying the conversation on my back.

So, when the night winds down and he suggests we take this elsewhere, I don't say no. I make the decision quickly. "You live far from here?"

His brows lift slightly, but he recovers quickly, a slow grin spreading across his face. "Not as close as you, I'm guessing."

"Smart."

He tilts his head, studying me. "That a deal-breaker?"

"Nope. But it does mean you're coming to mine."

His grin widens. "Lead the way."

***

It's around 1 AM when I slide out of bed, stretching as I pad across the floor to the other bathroom. Daniel's in my en-suite, the shower running. Good. Gives me a moment to breathe, to reorient myself.

My apartment is quiet, as always. Giselle, my model roommate, is never home, and the other two floors are unoccupied. I like the space, the solitude. It's mine.

I pull on a loose t-shirt and make my way to the living room, grabbing my laptop. I'd been stupid to put off working on my presentation until tonight, but here we are. It's a big one. A make-or-break moment for my position at the company. No pressure, right?

A few minutes later, Daniel emerges, shirtless, damp, looking every bit the sin I indulged in. He slides behind me, pressing his lips to my neck. "You coming back to bed?"

I offer a small smile. "Give me a few minutes."

His hands linger on my waist, but he pulls away with a frown. "Don't work too hard."

I hum in response, already refocusing on my screen.

Minutes pass in silence. It's just the clicks of the keyboard that fill up the space.

Then I hear it.

A rustle.

I pause, fingers hovering over the keyboard. The hair on the back of my neck rises. I slowly glance over my shoulder, but there's nothing there.

I should stop watching horror films when I'm alone.

Shaking my head, I stand, stretching as I head toward the hallway. The silence of my apartment suddenly feels too unsettling. I glance toward the front door, then back toward the kitchen. Nothing.

I exhale. Probably just my imagination.

But when I turn back toward the living room, my breath catches.

A figure near my table. Cloaked in a thick coat, wearing a hat low over his face.

Ice shoots through my veins.

For a second I think I'm only imagining it out of exhaustion, then he steps forward, revealing an unfamiliar face before saying in a clear voice, "Hello Camilla. I need you to come with me."

I move before I think, launching toward the front door. But I don't make it. Hands clamp around my arms. My body tenses, a scream rising in my throat, but then-

Something soft presses against my mouth.

A cloth.

A dizzying scent floods my nostrils, my head spinning instantly.

Through the haze, I hear him speak again, sounding satisfied now.

"Zeke will have his bride."

And then-nothing. Except unending darkness.