The Annihilator (Dark Verse #5)(22)

She avoided looking at anyone, but glanced up occasionally to check if her path was clear.
“Hey, Lyla!”
Body freezing, she turned to see one of the servers hand her a tray full of drinks.
“Mindy sprained her ankle. Take this up to Table 4 in the VIP area.”
Fuck. Okay, she could do this.
Giving a nod, she balanced the tray in clammy hands and headed to the special section cordoned off for special guests, focusing on one step at a time, the sachets burning a hole in her shorts.
This club was more elite than all the others she’d been in, so it had a larger clientele that was top of the crème. Climbing the low steps lit by neon lights, she walked over to the fourth table from the back, her steps coming to a halt as she took in the group of men and women sitting at the table—three couples and one man, and not one of them looking like they fit in this part of the world. Well, no one except the giant man with an eye patch. He looked like he’d fit right in.
“You don’t get it!” one of the women, a brunette with glasses, exclaimed loudly, glaring at the man beside her who was looking down at the tablet she was showing him. “How can you not see this?”
Another woman, a beautiful modelesque stunner, just looked at them with visible amusement, sitting in the crook of an arm belonging to a well-dressed man in a suit. “Even I didn’t the first time. Not everyone has your eye for detail, Morana.”
Such a pretty name.
The eye-patch man sat opposite them, a woman with blue hair close to his side. "He sent it to me last week. He's been after Hector harder than we have."
"I wonder why," the brunette with glasses mused out. "It's the first time I'm sensing some kind of stakes in this for him."
It was such an odd dynamic, one she had never seen before but immediately recognized. She felt a hollow pang go through her chest. Friends. Family. They looked like family together.
Silently putting the drinks on the table, skilled at going unnoticed, she moved around the table, keeping her head down.
“Thank you,” the beautiful woman said softly to her, but Lyla didn’t look up. Throat tight, she turned to leave, taking the kind word back with her, the image sticking in her mind of the group of friends sharing camaraderie. In another life, she could’ve been a girl with a group of friends enjoying drinks on a night. In another life, she could’ve been a woman tucked under the arm of a man who clearly cared for her. In another life. Maybe, if she had a next one, it would be kinder to her.
She rounded the corner of the VIP area, and out of their line of sight, turned around, glancing at them again.
It was a nice thing to see on the last night of her life.
Carrying the levity of witnessing their interactions in her heart, she dumped the tray on the counter and finally headed to her room, climbing the fire exit stairs to the first floor, her room the last on the landing.
Turning the knob, she entered and shut the door behind her, heading straight to the only furniture in the room—her tiny bed. It was so small that a taller woman would have a hard time sleeping on it straight.
Taking the packets of blue powder from her shorts, she placed them in her lap, staring at them. A bottle of water sat on the floor by her leg, and she uncapped it. Ripping the packet open, she dumped all the four sachets into the water and gave it a good shake with trembling hands.
Heart pounding, hands shaking worse with each second, she stared at the liquid.
This was it.
This was how it ended.
Taking a deep breath, she brought the bottle to her lips. And she tipped it up.
The bitter liquid went down her throat as she gulped, taking in as much as she could before her stomach felt full.
Bottle empty, she put it down and lay down on the bed, staring at the ceiling.
It was a nice ceiling, with fake ornamental designs around the fan, making it look pretty. Not like the many cracked, peeling ceilings she had looked at. It was a nice last ceiling. Why was she thinking of ceilings?
Tears streamed down the side of her face as she lay alone in the dark, the light from a street lamp outside casting shadows in the room, reminding her of him.
She let herself think of him for the first time in months. A nameless man who had changed her life for both the better, at least for a while, and then worse. A nameless man who had made her believe, in his own twisted way, that she was worth something, that her life mattered to someone, that she was cared for.
Was that why her heart bled so much? Because he had abandoned her, left her lost and adrift like everything else? Because he had made her care too, and she had paid the price for it? Because in all the months since he had not once come seeking her?

'I'll always come for you.'

Liar.
Had he found a new obsession, a new girl to kill for? Or had he simply gotten bored with their games once he had a taste of her? Had it been that, the fact that he’d had her in some way, the thrill of the chase gone?
For a moment, she wondered if it was because he was dead or injured, but knowing him, she couldn’t believe it for more than a second. The intensity of his obsession at its peak had made her believe he would have crawled to find her if he she were out of his sight. No, he was alive, and she was abandoned.
The first wave of heat hit her body, her skin beginning to pinch and tighten.
She closed her eyes, holding the sides of the bed and wave after wave of heat spiked to a fever in her system, her heart thumping so rapidly and loudly in her chest she couldn’t hear anything but the pounding in her ears.
The pounding came insistently, jolting her, her eyes flying to the door.
Someone was actually pounding on her door. What the hell?