Chapter Four: Escape into the Night

Natacha's POV

Mom’s voice cut through the fog of confusion in my mind, snapping me back to reality. Before I could even react, Mark shoved me away, his face flushed with panic. “Anita, it’s not what you think!” he stammered, but his words did nothing to quiet the storm inside me.

But my mother wasn’t listening. Her eyes locked on mine, and the fury was unmistakable. "What do you think you’re doing, Natacha?" Her tone was low, controlled, but I could feel the anger radiating off her.

Her gaze was like a brand, scorching me where I stood. I had never seen her look at me like this before. In that moment, I could see that she wasn’t just mad at me—she was disappointed. But there was more to it. There was something darker lurking behind her anger, something cold.

"I—I don’t understand," I stammered, my mind racing. But my mother wasn’t in the mood for explanations. Her face twisted in disdain as she crossed her arms over her chest.

"You’re going back to your father’s," she snapped, her voice rising like a crescendo. "Go pack your things. You’re leaving."

I shook my head, the weight of her words crashing down on me. “What? No. Mom, please—”

But it didn’t matter. She shoved me away, sending me stumbling back toward my room. "Now, Natacha! I’ll call your father."

I stood there in shock for a moment, too stunned to react. My own mother—she was choosing him over me. She was sending me back to the same house that had suffocated me for years. I was her daughter. Why wasn’t that enough?

Frustration bubbled up inside me, hotter than I could control. There was no point in arguing, no point in trying to make her understand. She had already made her decision. The truth of it settled into my chest like a lead weight. It hurt more than I expected.

---

I stormed into my room, my heart pounding. I yanked clothes from my closet, throwing them into a suitcase. I didn’t care anymore. I was done trying to make sense of their twisted love. They didn’t care about me. They never had.

In a haze of emotion, I grabbed random clothes from hangers and drawers, hardly even thinking about what I was doing. I wasn’t just packing for a trip. I was packing for a life I didn’t want, a life I had been running from for years. The idea of returning to my father’s house made bile rise in the back of my throat. I would rather burn this entire life down than go back there. But where else could I go?

That’s when I saw it—the fake ID that Eric had given me. The one that had let me sneak into clubs without a second glance. I stared at it for a moment, contemplating. It had been a symbol of freedom, a way out. A way to escape everything that had tied me down. Maybe it was time to leave.

---

I grabbed the ID, some cash, and slipped into my most rebellious outfit—a crop top and ripped jeans that screamed I didn’t give a damn. My phone buzzed in my pocket, but I ignored it. I didn’t need to talk to anyone right now, least of all my parents.

Without a second thought, I stormed out of the house, determined to break free from the prison I had been stuck in for far too long. A cab ride later, and I was standing in front of The Nightfall Haven—the club Eric and I had visited before. It felt like the perfect escape. The night was mine, and I wasn’t about to let anyone take it from me.

The bouncer at the door looked me up and down. I could feel his eyes lingering, sizing me up as if trying to figure out if I was old enough to be there. But then I showed him my fake ID, and without another word, he stepped aside and let me in.

The moment I entered, the pulsing lights, the deep bass of the music, and the heat of the crowd swallowed me whole. It was like the world outside didn’t exist anymore. I was here now, in this world of fleeting freedom. The smell of alcohol, perfume, and sweat mixed with the loud beats that reverberated through my body. It was intoxicating. I ordered a Dirty Martini at the bar and took a long sip, feeling it burn down my throat and settle warm in my stomach. For the first time in days, I felt something close to relief.

The dance floor was packed, people moving together as if they had no care in the world. It felt like everyone here had figured out how to escape their own problems, their own lives, and for a moment, I wished I could do the same.

"Can I get you another drink, beautiful?"

The voice broke through my thoughts. I looked up to see a man standing beside me. He was tall, with sharp features and an easy confidence that made him impossible to ignore. His smile was warm, inviting, and somehow, it felt like he was looking straight through me.

“Sure,” I said, a small smirk tugging at my lips, feeling the adrenaline in my veins.

He leaned in, ordering a refill, and we quickly fell into conversation. His name was Ryan, and he was charming in that way that made you feel like you were the most important person in the room. His eyes were dark, but not unkind, like a stormy sky—unpredictable, but beautiful.

"You come here often?" he asked, his voice warm, but a little too knowing.

"No," I said, laughing softly. "This is my first time."

“Well, I’m glad you’re here,” he said, his grin widening. He made it feel like the night had been waiting for me, like I was part of something bigger than I could understand.

We talked for a while, the music in the background adding to the tension. But the moment his hand brushed mine, I knew he was looking for more. The chemistry between us was undeniable. I could feel it simmering beneath the surface, like a fire waiting to ignite.

“Do you want to dance?” he asked, his voice almost playful, as if he already knew the answer.

I hesitated for only a second before nodding. I was tipsy, buzzing from the alcohol, but I didn’t care. I stood up, allowing Ryan to lead me to the floor. The music hit, and I couldn’t help but move to the beat. My body swayed, hips grinding to the rhythm, and I could feel Ryan’s hands on my waist, pulling me closer. The heat between us was palpable.

For a moment, it was just the music, just the two of us. Nothing else mattered. The world outside the club didn’t exist. It was just me and him, moving together in this bubble of desire and excitement.

"Do you want to go somewhere more private?" he whispered in my ear, his lips brushing my skin.

The idea of being away from the chaos of the crowd, away from everything, was tempting. I nodded, the buzz of alcohol and adrenaline making my decision for me. I didn’t want to think anymore. I didn’t want to feel the weight of my life pressing down on me.

Ryan led me out through a hidden door in the back of the club. The hallway was dim, the sounds of the party muffled behind us. His steps were confident, like he knew exactly where he was going. I followed without hesitation, my thoughts fuzzy, as if my brain had already started to shut down.

We entered a room, and my eyes widened as I took in the scene. Small booths were set up along the walls, each one occupied by a couple—some whispering sweet nothings, others... much more. The air felt thick with tension, charged with something I couldn’t quite put my finger on. I realized then that I had stepped into a different world, a world where everything was blurred, where the rules didn’t apply.

Ryan didn’t seem to notice my hesitation. He pushed me into a corner, his lips crashing onto mine. I tried to pull away, but he was already deep in it, his hands sliding down my body. My pulse was hammering, and suddenly, everything inside me screamed to stop.

"What are you doing?" I asked, breathless, my heart racing in my chest.

“Come on,” Ryan smirked. “You were all over me on the dance floor. You know you want this.”

“No,” I snapped, shoving him back with more force than I intended. "I don’t want this.”

But he wasn’t listening. He grabbed me again, this time forcing me against the wall, his lips pressing hard against mine as his hands roamed over my body. My body froze, panic gripping me. I struggled to push him away, but he was stronger than me. His weight pinned me in place, and I could feel myself losing control.

“Stop!” I gasped, struggling to break free, but it felt like my limbs were made of lead.

“Stop acting like a naive bitch,” Ryan growled, his breath hot against my ear. “You were dancing like you wanted it. Don’t play games.”

I jerked away, the desperation in my chest threatening to overwhelm me. "No. I don’t want this!"

And then, just as I was about to scream, a voice cut through the tension like a knife.

"Consent is essential," it said, the tone calm but commanding. "And I don’t think she gave you that."

Ryan froze. His grip loosened on me, and he stepped back as if struck by something more than just the words. The man who had spoken stepped out from the shadows, his tall frame imposing in the dim light. His eyes locked on Ryan with a cold intensity that made him stumble back.

“What the hell do you want?” Ryan sneered, his posture defensive, as if ready for a fight.

The stranger didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he looked at me, his gaze softening. “Are you alright?” he asked, his voice laced with concern.

I nodded, still trying to shake off the lingering panic. His calm presence was a lifeline in the storm of emotions I felt swirling inside me. He wasn’t like Ryan. There was something different about him. Something... safe.

“Leave,” the man said, his voice hardening. “Before I make you leave.”

Ryan hesitate

d, then muttered something under his breath before backing away and disappearing into the crowd.