Chapter 30

As I enter the nightclub on the outskirts of town, I raise my chin in a silent gesture, and the bouncers let me through without a second glance. A cigarette dangles from my lips, the hood of my leather jacket pulled up, casting shadows over my face as I travel through the bustling crowd. Eagerness courses through my veins; this is the first lead I've had since my cousin's death, the first phone call telling me where she might be.

Apparently, she's here with some fucking guy. My plan is simple: kill him if I need too and kidnap her. I have to take her to my uncle, but my instincts scream to slice her throat and be done with it. This past year has been consumed with trying to find her. Whoever the fuck she is, she knows how to hide, which raises my suspicion that I might be dealing with a hitwoman who will put up a fight. I don't usually fight or kill women, but this one is different. Family is fucking family, and she will die for what she has done.

As I head for the bar, the bass from the music pounds in my ears, a relentless thump that matches the anger in my chest. Although I work and live at a circus and carnival, which is pretty busy most days of the week, there is nothing I hate more than stepping out of those grounds I call home to come to shithole places like this.

While ordering my drink, my phone vibrates in my pocket. I retrieve it and glance down at the lit-up screen. Seeing it's my uncle, I answer and hold the phone close to my ear. "Yeah?"

"She's in the VIP section," he states calmly.

I turn around, my eyes scanning over the sea of people until they land on a dimly lit corner on the other side of the enormous space. A small area is cornered off, and I squint to see a few people seated there. One of them is a young woman with long, straight dark hair cascading down to her hips. She's wearing a short white dress that hugs her petite frame, and she's sitting on a guy's lap, sipping a drink. From here, I can't confirm if she's the girl in the picture or not.

"Are you sure it's her?" I ask, not wanting to kidnap the wrong girl.

"Yeah, it's her. It's Harley," he answers unwaveringly.

"Are you fucking sure?"

"Yes, Hell. Now bring her to me." He hangs up like the rude motherfucker he is.

I keep my angry eyes locked on her as I snatch the beer off the bar, taking a long, bitter swig. I despise my uncle. If he weren't family, I would have hacked his head off his fucking shoulders already, but luckily for him, he is. He's an obnoxious cunt who thinks the world owes him a favour, living his luxury life in his mansion while he dictates to criminals who hate him as much as I do. He is the reason I am the monster I am today and no; I'm not fucking thankful for it.

My gaze remains fixed on her until I see her getting up. I straighten, lowering my beer onto the bar, tracking her every move as she heads in the direction of the restrooms. This is my opportunity.

I creep through the crowd and once I reach the door, I push it open with a force that sends it swinging. I spot her not too far ahead, talking to another girl. I slow my pace, lowering my head, concealing myself behind people in the busy corridor. When she finishes her conversation, she continues forward. As I draw nearer, she suddenly glances over her shoulder and as soon as her blue eyes meet mine, I'm certain it's her. Her gaze widens in recognition before she starts walking quicker. I fasten my pace, shoving people out of the way to get to her. I flick my blade out, the metallic click causing some women to scream, but I remain unfazed. She looks back again, noticing the knife in my hand, and attempts to run in her tall heels. I close the distance until she dashes into the women's restrooms.

As soon as I'm close enough, I smash open the door without hesitation. The girls inside scream at my unsettling presence, their shrieks echoing off the tiled walls. My gaze sweeps across the room as they run past me to escape. When I don't see her, I know she's hiding in one of the cubicles. As the room empties, I use my foot to boot the doors open, one by one, each crash reverberating through the restroom.

As soon as I hear a noise a few doors down, I walk toward it with deliberate steps before smashing my foot against the door. It swings open with a resounding crash, and I see her perched on the toilet seat, shivering in fear. Her blue eyes are wide and brimming with tears.

"Please don't hurt me, mister," she pleads, her voice trembling.

A growl of anger rumbles from deep within me as I storm forward, my patience worn thin. I don't waste a second hesitating, and I grab her roughly, throwing her over my shoulder in one swift motion. Her small frame feels fragile against my solid build, but I ignore the pang of guilt that tries bubble inside me.

As I stride down the hallway with her, she screams for help, her struggles against me frantic and desperate. But her cries blur into the background noise of the nightclub.. My focus remains unyielding, my grip on her tightening. Her fists pound against my back, her nails clawing at my jacket, but I remain unfazed as each step brings me closer to the exit.

After hurling her into the trunk of my car, I finally arrive at the destination and turn off the engine. As she screams, I draw a deep breath. What the fuck is wrong with me, just do it. Pushing past my doubts, I open the door and step out, heading for the back of the car. I flick out my blade before popping open the trunk and she now lies still, her gaze wide and petrified.

I take a step back and calmly lift my fingers, "Get the fuck out." I order, calmly.

"Are you going to rape me? Please don't rape me." She whispers through sobs.

My jaw tightens, but I don't give her an answer, I give another gesture. "Get the fuck out or I'll get you out."

Gathering herself, she slowly sits up with hesitation before she finally jumps out of the trunk. When she attempts to run, I snatch her upper arm and drag her back toward me with force, making my knife be known.

"Stop fucking with me, Harley." I grit out with anger, and she looks up at me, "Harley? I'm not Harley, I'm Star."

I lift a brow with a growl and push her forward, "Yeah fucking right."

"I mean it, mister. You have the wrong girl!"

"Shut. The. Fuck. Up." I bite out viciously before turning around quickly and point the knife in her face. "I will fucking kill you!"

She swallows hard at my sinister threat, her lips clamping shut as her mascara runs down her cheeks. Once I'm satisfied that she's taking this seriously, I continue to pull her toward my uncle's mansion, her resistance now stopped.

When entering, I drag her inside with me, immediately spotting my uncle with his back to us, engaged in conversation with a man I don't recognize. He turns at the sound of our entrance, his eyes instantly locking onto the whimpering girl beside me. I take a moment to size him up—wearing his usual gray tight pants, polished shoes, and a half-buttoned white shirt with the sleeves rolled up. My uncle looks nothing like me; he's far shorter but more broader. The only similarity is our black hair.

He takes calculated steps forward as we stop in the middle of the huge, gleaming white foyer. When he halts, his eyes never leave her. With her head bowed, she avoids his intense gaze, but I can feel her body shaking beneath my grip on her upper arm. He reaches out and snatches her face, forcing her to look up at him. Their eyes meet, and he just stares at her, a silent tension crackling in the air. I glance between them, impatience gnawing at me.

"Well, is it fucking her?" I ask, annoyance buzzing through me.

He pushes her face away roughly with a growl, and she sobs, lowering her head in defeat.

"No, it's not," he finally answers, seething with frustration.

I inhale deeply, pissed off at the realization that I now have to take this random chick back to where I found her after thoroughly petrifying her. As I turn to leave, his hand clamps down on my shoulder, stopping me in my tracks. My eyes drop to it before meeting his gaze. His eyes drag up and down her body as he takes a step back, a wicked hunger lingering in his expression.

"Leave her with me," he says, his tone dripping with evilness.

I narrow my eyes at him, my voice a low growl. "Get fucked." His eyebrow arches in response, a silent challenge.

"You had me kidnap this chick because you don't know the fucking difference between her and the cunt that killed your son?" I spit out, my anger barely contained. His jaw tightens, the muscle in his cheek flexing as he folds his arms across his chest.

"I am taking her back," I say firmly, my voice brooking no argument. "I'm not leaving her with you, motherfucker, for you to traumatize her even more."

He raises his chin, his eyes scanning mine with a cold, calculating gaze. "I would be very careful who the fuck you're talking to, Hell," he says, his threat delivered with a chilling calmness that should mean something, but it doesn't fucking faze me.

I take a step forward, overshadowing him, bringing my face close to his. "Stop fucking with me, you old fuck. I don't give a flying shit who you are, and you fucking know it," My teeth clench with each word.

We stand there, locked in a silent battle of dominance, murder gleaming in both our eyes. "You have no authority over me, remember that. I may have given a shit about Haze, and that's why I'm doing this, but you…" My eyes rake down his form in disgust. "I wouldn't fucking piss on you if you were on fire, Unc's," I snarl.

With that, I tear my gaze away, turning around and forcing the girl to follow my lead. I can feel his eyes burning into my back, but I don't look. My focus is now on getting her out of here, and away from his twisted grasp.