Chapter 3: Exposed and Alone

It was drizzling outside.

The rain was that persistent, misty kind that soaks you before you realize it. The sidewalk shimmered under the neon glow of club signs, puddles reflecting streaks of pink and blue in the heart of downtown Chicago.

By the time I made it to the club, my hair was damp and sticking to my cheeks.

I tried to smooth it down, but my hands were shaking too much. The bouncer—tattoos snaking up his arms, chewing gum and barely glancing at me—let me slip inside. The thump of music vibrated through my bones, and I could smell spilled beer and sweat in the air.

Just as I reached for the door, I heard Ryan’s mocking voice from inside.

His laugh carried over the music, sharp and cruel. I froze, hand on the door, listening.

"You mean Lila Harper? That clingy girl who comes running whenever I call? She’s boring as hell."

The words hit me like a slap. I pressed my forehead to the door, squeezing my eyes shut and willing myself not to cry. My heart hammered in my chest, my body tensed like a deer in headlights.

"She’s just for dating and messing around. I’d never marry her."

His voice was casual, like he was talking about some random girl he barely knew—not the friend he’d grown up with, not the person who’d just begged him for help.

"All she does is orbit me like I’m her sun, like she can’t breathe without a guy. Now her heat’s here, and she comes begging. Pathetic."

Each word felt like another twist of the knife. I bit my lip so hard it almost bled, willing myself not to make a sound.

Leaning against the door, I heard every word. My fingers shook.

I squeezed my eyes shut, nails digging crescent moons into my palms. I’d never felt so small.

His buddy piped up, "If that’s how you feel, why not just tell her no?"

There was a pause, the kind that dripped with meaning. I could picture Ryan rolling his eyes, putting on that fake, easygoing grin he used when he wanted to seem like the good guy.

But Ryan paused, then shook his head, putting on this fake good-guy act.

"Nah. If I turn her down, she’ll just cry and cling again. I can’t stand her tears."

His voice was full of false concern, the kind that made you want to scream. He was acting like he was the victim, like I was some burden he had to carry.

"Besides, her fiancé’s always been a jerk to me. If I sleep with his fiancée, that’s payback, right?"

There it was—the real reason. My heart dropped into my stomach. It was all just some twisted game to him.

Someone else chimed in:

"But I heard, once a succubus gives her first heat to a guy, he’s the only one she’ll ever want. No one else can satisfy her. Ryan, isn’t that a little harsh?"

The guy sounded nervous, like he knew this was crossing a line. But Ryan just laughed, brushing it off like it was nothing.

My nails dug into my palms. I held my breath, waiting for Ryan’s answer.

I could feel my pulse in my ears, the world narrowing to just this moment.

After a long pause, I heard Ryan sneer, "She’s the one throwing herself at me. Who can she blame?"

"Perfect, I’ll use her for practice, so Amber won’t have to suffer through my first time."

The words echoed in my head, bouncing around like a bad joke. Amber—of course. He’d always had a thing for her, and I’d always been the backup plan.

The guys around him burst out laughing: "Damn, Ryan, you really know how to play. Matthew’s fiancée is just your warm-up."

Their laughter was harsh and mean, the kind that made your skin crawl. I felt exposed, like everyone in the club was in on the joke but me. The sticky floor clung to my shoes, and the air reeked of cheap vodka and sweat.

I stood outside, feeling like I’d been dunked in ice water.

The cold seeped into my bones, numbing me from the inside out. I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to hold it together.

It felt like someone was slowly twisting a knife in my chest.

Every word replayed in my mind, sharp and painful. I wanted to scream, to run, to disappear.

Tears stung my eyes, threatening to spill over.

I blinked hard, but it was no use. The tears came anyway, hot and angry.

I wiped at them, but I couldn’t stop crying.

My vision blurred, the neon lights smearing into streaks of color. I tried to breathe, but my chest felt too tight.

So those TikTok-style comments weren’t just in my head.

It was like the universe was mocking me, showing me exactly what I’d refused to see.

Ryan only agreed to help me so he could use me for practice, to impress Amber.

I wrapped my arms around myself, shoulders shaking as tears spilled down my cheeks, each drop a silent surrender to heartbreak.

The conversation inside kept going:

"Lila’s so clingy. How are you gonna shake her off? Be careful, dude."

Their voices were muffled, but the words still hit hard. I felt like a punchline, a cautionary tale.

Ryan laughed. "If she gets too much, I’ll just ghost her or say I’m moving to LA. What can she do?"

He said it like it was nothing, as if I was just another number in his phone he could block whenever he wanted.

I wiped my tears, finally snapped, and shoved the door open: "Don’t bother, Ryan. We’re done tonight!"

My voice was raw and shaky, but it cut through the noise like a gunshot. Heads turned, conversations stopped. I could feel every eye on me.

The whole club froze. No one wanted to look at me. Everyone was watching Ryan.

It was the kind of silence that fills a room right before a bar fight breaks out. Even the DJ seemed to sense the tension, letting the music fade just a little.

His face shifted, stiff, then he forced a smile.

He tried to play it off, but I could see the panic flicker in his eyes. He wasn’t used to being called out.

"Lila, what kind of joke is this?"

He beckoned to me.

His hand moved in that lazy, dismissive way, like he expected me to just fall back into line.

"Come on, don’t be dramatic. You know I’m not gonna chase after you."

"Don’t say stuff you don’t mean. I know you. You always talk big but never follow through."

His voice was patronizing, like he was talking to a little kid who’d thrown a tantrum in the grocery store.

"If you just come here, I’ll pretend I didn’t hear any of that."

He was trying to reel me back in, but it wasn’t going to work this time.

I bit back tears. "Ryan, I mean it. I’m done chasing you."

The words tasted like freedom and heartbreak all at once. I felt lighter, even as my heart broke.

Then, without a second thought, I yanked off the necklace he’d given me and tossed it to the floor.

The chain hit the ground with a tiny clatter, barely audible over the music. It was such a small sound for such a big moment.

I used to treasure that thing, never took it off.

It had been my good luck charm, my comfort. Now it just felt like a shackle.

But suddenly, I just didn’t care anymore.

I turned and walked out.

My legs shook, but I kept moving, head held high. I could feel the eyes on my back, but I didn’t look back.

He gritted his teeth and chased after me, cornering me in a dim hallway, his face dark:

His footsteps echoed behind me, faster than I expected. The hallway was narrow, plastered with faded concert posters, the bass from the club leaking through the walls. The flickering fluorescent lights made everything look harsher.

"What’s your deal now?"

His voice was low, dangerous. He blocked my path, arms crossed, like he was daring me to fight back.

"You can barely stand. Where are you even going like this?"

He looked me up and down, concern flickering across his face for a split second before the anger returned.

"Don’t be stubborn. You’re in heat, Lila. You know how risky it is to be out alone?"

He stepped closer, lowering his voice. It was almost gentle, but I could hear the manipulation underneath.

Ryan reached out, trying to pull me close. "Come on, I’ve got a room upstairs. I’ll help you. I promise I won’t hurt you."

He tried to sound reassuring, but the words made my skin crawl. I pulled away, shaking my head.

I shoved him away. "Ryan, I don’t need you anymore!"

My voice was stronger this time. I stared him down, refusing to back down.

His face twisted. "If not me, then who?"

He looked genuinely confused, like the idea of me choosing someone else had never even crossed his mind.

"Don’t kid yourself. Isn’t this what you wanted?"

He leaned in, voice dropping to a whisper, as if sharing a secret. But I wasn’t listening anymore.

He pinned my hand to the wall, grabbed my chin, and leaned in to kiss me.

His grip was rough, his breath hot against my cheek. I turned my head, fighting him off.

The comments exploded again:

[Girl, don’t let him win!]

[If you give your first heat to him, you’ll be marked for life! No one else will ever be enough!]

[He’ll humiliate you, use you as a stand-in for the main girl.]

[You’ll beg him for help during your heat, but he’ll just lock you up and leave to spoil Amber.]

[He might even dump you at your own wedding and run off with her.]

[You’ll end up broken, and your fiancé will be left holding your body, swearing revenge.]

[Go find your fiancé! He’s crazy in love with you—he’ll do anything for you!]

[He’s at the club too, drinking alone in pain because you wanted to break off the engagement!]

[If you just smile at him, he’d give you the world!]

The imaginary comments were louder than ever, a chorus of voices pushing me toward the one person I’d been running from.

My vision blurred with tears.

Everything doubled, the hallway spinning. I wiped my face with the back of my hand, smearing mascara across my cheek.

With the last of my strength, I shoved Ryan away, glaring: "Don’t touch me!"

My voice echoed down the hallway, sharp and clear. I dug my nails into his arm, leaving angry red marks.

In my panic, my nails raked across his cheek.

The scratch was shallow, but it left a bright red line. He jerked back, eyes wide with shock.

Ryan winced, stunned, his voice going icy.

He pressed a hand to his cheek, glaring at me like I’d just betrayed him.

"Lila, what’s your problem now?"

His words dripped with contempt, as if I was the one being unreasonable.

"I don’t have time for your games."

He sounded exhausted, like I was just another hassle in his night.

"I’ll give you one chance. Don’t regret it."

He stepped closer, voice low and threatening. It was a side of him I’d never seen before.

He reached for me. "Come on, say something sweet and I’ll forgive you."

He tried to soften his tone, but it came out wrong—more demand than invitation.

But I ignored him, running for the exit.

My heels clacked against the tile, echoing in the empty hallway. I didn’t look back.

Ryan yelled after me:

"Lila, if you walk out tonight, we’re done!"

His voice cracked, but I didn’t care. I kept moving, faster and faster.

But I didn’t care. Only one thought filled my head:

I want to see my fiancé.

Matthew Sinclair.