Chapter 1: The Unlikely Reunion

I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror, making sure I looked as sharp and commanding as I needed to. The goal was simple: look intimidating. I chose to go all black—black jeans, black boots, a black v-neck t-shirt, and a black jacket. Black is timeless, the kind of color that never fails. I finished my look with a touch of mascara, a sharp winged eyeliner, and a swipe of lipstick—not too much. I knew I’d be drinking tonight, and the lipstick wouldn’t last. Why waste it when I already knew the outcome?

Satisfied, I gave myself a quick smile. "You got this," I whispered to my reflection, the words more a command than a reassurance. Grabbing my keys, I rushed downstairs, headed for the car, and drove into the city.

The drive took about twenty minutes. Parking in my usual spot, I stepped out and made my way to the entrance of the club, but something made me hesitate. A gnawing feeling of unease. I shook it off, chalking it up to nerves. The night was too important to let anything get in the way. As I approached the entrance, I spotted Sam, the usual bouncer, and gave him a quick smile. He nodded and removed the rope barrier, allowing me to bypass the line. The people waiting in line shot daggers at me with their eyes, but I didn’t care.

Inside, the club was its usual mess—sticky floors from spilled alcohol, the heavy stench of smoke, weed, and sweat lingering in the air. I made my way upstairs. The place wasn’t packed, but it was busy enough that personal space was a luxury no one had. I headed straight for the bar, catching the bartender’s eye. Dean nodded at me, acknowledging my presence before tending to other orders.

Ten minutes later, I checked my watch—still plenty of time to kill. The club pulsed around me, a kaleidoscope of colors and movement. Bodies pressed together on the dance floor, swaying and grinding to the relentless beat that reverberated through the walls. The air was thick with a mix of sweat, alcohol, and the sharp tang of smoke. Neon lights flickered overhead, casting an almost surreal glow on the sea of faces—some lost in the music, others leaning in close, lips grazing ears, whispers exchanged in the dark. Couples clung to each other in shadowy corners, their passion hidden but not entirely concealed.

I scanned the room, my gaze drifting over the usual scenes—people dancing with abandon, some flirting, others making out in the half-light. It was the kind of place where time seemed to blur, the hours blending together in a haze of noise and heat.

As I turned toward the top of the stairs, my eyes landed on a trio of guys sitting at one of the bar tables. They were in a quieter section, where the music wasn’t as deafening, a place for those who preferred to chill, sip their drinks, and maybe share a plate of greasy bar food. At first, I wasn’t sure if I was seeing things, the faces too familiar, too out of place here. But as I squinted, the truth hit me like a shot of ice water down my spine.

One of them looked up, catching me in the act of staring. Our eyes locked for a split second, and I didn’t have time to look away. My mind raced, but I forced a small smile, trying to mask the unease that was starting to coil in my gut. He returned the smile, barely, and then motioned for me to join them.

Every instinct I had screamed at me to stay put, to turn around and lose myself in the crowd. But the moment had already passed, and there was no backing out now. I downed the rest of my drink in one quick gulp, feeling the burn as it slid down my throat, and made my way over, each step heavy with the weight of impending consequences.

Seriously? I thought, my mind racing. Of all places, on this of all nights, how were they all here at the same time? It felt like the universe was playing some kind of twisted joke on me. Something was definitely off, and the uneasy feeling gnawing at my gut was only getting worse.

“Gentlemen,” I greeted them with a small, forced smile, doing my best to hide the shock creeping up my spine.

The first to respond was Max, the high school crush I’d never quite gotten over. His smile was just as disarming as I remembered, but there was an edge to it now, a flicker of something I couldn’t quite place. “Oh, hey! What are you doing here?” he asked, his voice carrying a mix of surprise and thinly veiled curiosity. He leaned back in his chair, trying to look casual, but the tension in his posture betrayed him.

“I’m here to meet some people,” I replied, attempting a casual shrug while my eyes darted around the room, searching for an escape route or at least something less awkward to focus on. I could feel the weight of their stares, and it made my skin crawl.

An awkward silence settled over us like a heavy fog. The three of them exchanged glances, as if they were trying to figure out what to say—or perhaps what *not* to say. I sat there, plastering on a smile that felt increasingly strained, trying not to let the rising tension crack my composure. 

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“So...” I began, grasping for anything to break the silence that was suffocating us. “How do you all know each other?” The words hung in the air, too casual for the situation, but it was all I had.

They hesitated, each of them glancing at the others as if silently debating how much to reveal. It was Ryan, the one who had ghosted me after a string of promising dates, who finally spoke up. “Mutual friends,” he said, his voice steady, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes that made me think he wasn’t telling the whole truth.

It didn’t sound convincing, but I decided to let it slide. The last thing I wanted was to dig into whatever awkwardness was simmering beneath the surface. Some things, I thought, weren’t worth the trouble. I shifted in my seat, trying to appear nonchalant, but the uneasy tension between us only seemed to grow thicker, like a storm cloud gathering above.

“How do you know the others?” one of them asked, his voice dripping with curiosity as his eyes locked onto mine. The way he leaned forward slightly, with a smirk curling at the corner of his lips, sent a surge of irritation through me. It was the kind of smirk that oozed arrogance, the kind that made you itch to slap it right off someone’s face. 

I swallowed my annoyance and forced a smile, though it felt more like a grimace. “Umm… let me get back to you on that,” I replied, my tone light but strained. “I’m way too sober for this.” Without missing a beat, I caught Dean’s eye and gave a quick signal for another drink. He moved swiftly toward the table, a flicker of concern crossing his face as he approached. It was subtle, but I caught it—a slight furrow of his brow, a questioning tilt of his head. 

I nodded, a silent reassurance that everything was fine—or at least as fine as it could be in this bizarre situation. Dean hesitated for a moment, then handed me the drink, his eyes lingering on me just a second longer before he turned and walked away.

The men watched this exchange with confusion, their eyes following Dean as he left. It was clear they were puzzled. After all, it wasn’t typical for Dean to bring drinks to the tables; the unspoken rule was that everyone had to go to the bar themselves. But he always made an exception for me, and tonight was no different.

I wasted no time and downed the drink in one go, feeling the burn as it slid down my throat, hoping the alcohol would dull the awkwardness that seemed to be tightening around me like a noose. Still too sober for this, I thought, the tension in the air thickening with every passing second.

"Where should I start?" I mused aloud, letting the words hang in the air for a moment. My eyes shifted from one man to the next, my gaze sharp and deliberate. "Max here," I began, nodding toward him, "was my high school crush—the guy I spent four years secretly pining over." I let the memory linger, recalling the countless stolen glances in crowded hallways, the butterflies that fluttered every time he walked by, oblivious to my existence.

I turned my attention to Drake, a flicker of something darker crossing my face. "Drake was the one I lost my V-card to," I said, my voice low, almost teasing, as the memories of that night flooded back—awkward, clumsy, and tinged with regret. 

Finally, I locked eyes with Ryan, my expression hardening. "And you, Ryan," I continued, my voice laced with a hint of bitterness, "you're the one who ghosted me after a few dates—left me hanging with no explanation, just radio silence." The room seemed to tighten around us as I spoke, the air thick with unspoken tension. The words felt like a challenge, a revelation that laid bare the complicated, tangled history between us.

All three stared at me, wide-eyed. I couldn’t blame them; it wasn’t exactly the kind of thing you expect someone to announce in a bar. For a moment, they looked uncomfortable, but then Max started to laugh.

“Told you I was too sober for this,” I muttered under my breath.

“Yeah, me too. Small world, huh?” Max chuckled.

Max and I had never actually spoken in high school, despite my years-long crush. He was a few grades ahead of me, and I wasn’t exactly the popular girl, so I doubt he even noticed me back then. I shrugged off the memory—it didn’t bother me anymore.

“Anyway, who are you waiting for?” Drake asked, cutting through my thoughts.

“Even if I told you, you wouldn’t know them,” I replied, my tone a little sharper than I intended. Drake raised an eyebrow, sensing the edge in my voice. He hadn’t triggered anything specific; I was just on edge, having all three of them here after years of not seeing them.

Another awkward silence fell over the table. Ryan hadn’t said a word, and he looked so uncomfortable that I couldn’t help but laugh out loud. They stared at me, confused.

“Oh, it’s nothing,” I said, waving them off. “It’s just… you guys look more uncomfortable than I do. And I’m the one who got rejected.”

I shook my head in disbelief, finding the situation more amusing than anything else.

As time passed, I started to get impatient. I checked my watch again, and when I looked up, all three of them were glancing at their phones.

“We’ve got to go,” they said almost in unison, standing up.

“I guess I’ll see you around,” I said, offering them a small smile as they disappeared into the crowd on the dance floor.

I checked my phone, hoping for a message from the people I was supposed to meet. From the corner of my eye, I saw a familiar pair of shoes. I knew those shoes. Looking up, I couldn’t help but smile.

“Jason! About bloody time. Where the hell have you been?” I asked, pulling him into a hug.

“Sorry. Got caught up with business. They should all be here by now. I’ll take you to them,” he said, starting to lead the way.

I grabbed his arm, stopping him in his tracks. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he mumbled.

I decided to let it go—for now. But knowing myself, it was only a matter of time before I pressed the issue. As we wove our way through the crowded dance floor, the flashing lights and pounding bass seemed distant, like a world I was only half aware of. My mind was elsewhere, locked onto what lay ahead. The thrumming energy of the club couldn't mask the tension building inside me.

When we reached the familiar door to the meeting room, Jason came to an abrupt stop, his hand hovering over the handle. He hesitated, his posture stiff with unease, as if the weight of what lay on the other side had him rooted to the spot.

“It’s fine,” I said, keeping my voice steady though my pulse quickened. “The second-in-commands are in there. They need to know what's coming before they step up. With everything happening, it’s better they meet me now rather than later when they’re full of questions,” I added, running a hand through my hair, trying to shake off the creeping sense of dread that had been shadowing me all night.

Jason’s face tightened with concern, lines of worry creasing his brow. “You might be right, but I’m not comfortable with everyone knowing about it,” he murmured, his voice heavy with doubt. It was more than discomfort; there was fear in his eyes, fear of what revealing too much could set in motion.

I leaned in, my expression hardening, the air between us growing colder. “Then get comfortable,” I said, my voice clipped, leaving no room for argument. Without waiting for a reply, I pushed past him, gripping the door handle. As I pushed it open, a shiver ran down my spine, the sense that once I crossed that threshold, there would be no going back.