Trapped in the Shadows

Cleo's POV

Unable to bear the sight, I avert my gaze from the pool. The bikini girl emerges dripping from the water, her skin glowing under the patio string lights. She grabs a black bathrobe, tying the fabric around her waist before walking straight toward Ryker. She leans down, pressing her painted lips to his cheek, and whispers a secret in his ear.

Ryker gives her a brief nod, his expression indifferent. He stares straight ahead, holding his red cup. It makes it clear this girl is just another meaningless conquest for the night. She flashes him a bright smile anyway and heads indoors to wait for him.

I remain baffled, stuck on the couch as a wave of disbelief washes over me. How can these girls from prominent, wealthy families willingly throw themselves at the Alpha's son? They know his reputation for using girls and tossing them aside, yet they still line up outside his bedroom door. Their parents never intervene. In fact, those powerful families wait in the shadows, hoping to entangle their daughters' lives with him. They cross their fingers, praying Ryker might choose their child to be his future Luna.

I push the intrusive thoughts aside and stand up from the couch cushions. The night air suddenly feels too thick. Making a firm decision, I vow to stay as far away from Ryker Maddox as humanly possible. I need distance.

"Where are you going?"

Declan walks toward me, navigating around a group of shouting teenagers. He holds two red plastic cups in his hands, extending one toward me.

"I need to use the washroom," I tell him, ignoring the offered drink.

Declan shifts into protective mode, his brow furrowing with concern. "Oh. Let me lead the way." He frees one hand to gesture toward the glass doors.

A few guys from his inner circle pause their loud conversation. "Declan, where are you going?" one of the taller boys asks.

I glance between his friends and Declan. I don't want to ruin his night or drag him away from his own party. "You can just point me in the right direction. I can find my way alone."

Declan frowns, shaking his head. "No, the house is packed with strangers. I can't trust the guys wandering around in there."

"I promise, I'll be fine," I insist, crossing my arms. I am not a helpless kid who needs a guardian to walk through a hallway.

Reluctantly, he sighs and gives me directions to the main floor. I leave the poolside, stepping through the glass sliding doors into the living room. The heavy bass of the music vibrates through the floorboards, rattling my chest. I navigate the massive house, weaving through a sea of dancing, sweating teenagers. Declan mentioned the primary bathroom was upstairs, so I turn my attention toward the grand staircase.

When I reach the bottom step, I stop in my tracks. I spot a couple making out, their tangled bodies blocking the stairs. Seeking another option, I tap the shoulder of a passing girl and ask for the ground-floor washroom. She gives me a dismissive look, raking her eyes over my clothes, but points toward a dark, isolated corner down a side hallway.

I thank her over the loud music and head in that direction. The crowd thins out as the pounding bass fades to a muffled thump. As I approach the dim corridor, a careless boy stumbles out of the shadows. He loses his footing and crashes into my shoulder. His plastic cup crushes against my chest, sloshing a massive wave of beer over my head and shoulder.

The cold liquid drenches my hair, dripping down my neck and soaking into the fabric of my coat. The bitter smell of hops hits my nose.

"You should have watched out," the boy slurs, offering a rude smirk before pushing past me to rejoin the party.

I bite my tongue, ignoring his taunt. Arguing with a drunk student will get me nowhere. I slip into the dim washroom at the end of the hall and lock the wooden door behind me.

The mirror above the sink reflects a miserable sight. My hair is matted with cheap beer. Drops of alcohol roll down my cheeks. I turn on the faucet and spend several minutes washing the pungent alcohol from my hair and face at the sink. I cup the cold water in my hands, scrubbing my skin to rid myself of the smell. The sticky sensation clings to my jaw. Needing to clean my face properly, I take off my oversized glasses. I wipe the lenses down with a paper towel and stow them safely inside my bag.

I splash my face one last time, drying my cheeks and running my fingers through my damp, tangled hair. Taking a deep breath to steady my nerves, I grab my bag and pull the door open.

I step back out of the washroom into the pitch-black corridor. The heavy door clicks shut behind me, plunging the space into absolute darkness. Without my glasses, my vision is compromised. The hallway turns into a blurry expanse of shadows. I take a hesitant step forward, reaching out to find the wall.

Suddenly, I gasp out loud.

A strong hand clamps around my wrist like a vice. The unseen figure yanks me forward into the shadows. I stumble over my own feet as the assailant spins me around and presses my back hard against the plaster wall. The sudden impact knocks the breath from my lungs.

"What took you so long to come out? Were you playing with yourself?"

A deep voice reverberates in the dark.

My eyes widen in terror. It is Ryker.

He steps into my space, caging me in. He has no idea who I am. In the pitch-black hallway, without my glasses, I am just a faceless girl to him. He leans in dangerously close, invading my personal space. His nose grazes the crook of my neck, and he inhales my scent.

"Why do you smell so different right now? What kind of fragrance did you wear? I liked it," he murmurs. His voice drops to a rough register. His nose rubs against my sensitive skin, sending a jolt straight down my spine.

My breath hitches in my throat. My chest tightens, and a wave of shock washes over my limbs. I am frozen against the wall, unable to push him away.

"Fuck! You smell so good," he curses under his breath.

I can feel every inch of his hard, muscular body pressing flush against mine. His chest flattens against my damp coat. His strong hands release my wrists, moving down to encircle my waist, trapping me against the wall. His heat surrounds me. His warm breath fans across my cheek, carrying the scent of alcohol and mint.

A storm of confusion races through my mind. This makes no sense. The boy who just called me a mouse, the boy who looked at me with disdain, has dragged me into the dark.

I open my mouth, trying to speak, trying to tell him he has the wrong person.

But before my brain can process a single word of protest, Ryker shifts his weight. He tilts his head, and without a second of hesitation, he smashes his warm, demanding lips against mine, claiming my mouth and giving me no chance to understand what is happening.