By the time Mae reached the club, the adrenaline had worn off, leaving her exhausted and drained. Her muscles ached from the sprint, her heart still thudding painfully in her chest. She slipped through the side door into the club's back hallway, grateful for the darkness that enveloped her. The club had already shut down for the night, the main lights dimmed, and the space was eerily quiet.

Mae leaned against the wall, trying to steady her breath. The events of the past hour spun in her mind—what had just happened wasn't something she could push aside. Those men, the messages, the threats—they were too real to ignore. They had said they would be watching her, and she believed them.

She made her way back to her dressing room, her steps slow and heavy. As she reached for the door handle, her phone buzzed once again. This time, it was a message from Charlie.

"Where are you? We need to talk. Now."

Mae's pulse quickened. She had been dreading this moment, but she knew there was no avoiding it. She couldn't keep running from the truth. If Charlie had any answers, she needed them.

Without replying, she turned and headed for his office, her mind racing. The long, narrow corridors of the club felt even more suffocating now, each step closer to Charlie filling her with a mixture of anticipation and dread. She needed him to tell her everything—about the club, the people behind it, and most importantly, who was sending those messages.

When Mae finally reached his office, the door was already ajar. She pushed it open and stepped inside. Charlie was sitting behind his desk, his posture rigid, his eyes dark and unreadable as they locked onto hers. The air between them was thick with tension.

"You're late," he said, his voice low and controlled.

Mae closed the door behind her, feeling the weight of his gaze. "I had to deal with something," she said quietly.

Charlie stood and crossed the room, his presence looming over her as he stopped just inches away. "What's going on, Mae? You've been acting different lately. I can see it in your face. Is it the messages?"

She wanted to tell him about the rooftop, about the men, but the words caught in her throat. Could she trust him with the whole truth? Would he even believe her?

She finally whispered. "Threats."

Charlie's expression hardened. "From who?"

"I don't know," Mae said, her voice trembling. "But they know things about me. They've been following me, watching me."

Charlie's jaw clenched, and he turned away, pacing the room. Mae watched him, trying to gauge his reaction, but his face remained cold and distant. He was clearly angry, but there was something else—something she couldn't quite place.

"I told you before," Charlie said, his voice tight. "I'll protect you. But you need to tell me everything."

Mae hesitated, then took a deep breath. "There were two men tonight. They were waiting for me outside. They told me to stop digging, to stop asking questions. They mentioned Layla."

Charlie froze mid-step, his back to her. "What did they say about Layla?"

Mae swallowed hard. "They said she was digging too. That's why she's gone."

For a moment, the room was silent, the tension almost suffocating. Then, slowly, Charlie turned to face her, his eyes dark and filled with something she couldn't decipher.

"You're in deeper than you realize," he said softly, almost regretfully.

Mae's stomach twisted. "What do you mean?"

Charlie didn't answer. Instead, he crossed the room and stopped in front of her, his hand gently resting on her arm. "I'll handle this. But you need to trust me, Mae. Stop asking questions. Let me take care of it."

Mae looked up at him, her heart pounding. She wanted to trust him, but the fear gnawing at her wouldn't go away. She was in too deep now, and there were too many things she didn't understand.

But what choice did she have?

"Okay," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Charlie's grip on her arm tightened just slightly, and he leaned in closer. "Good."

He turned and walked back to his desk, the conversation clearly over. Mae stood there for a moment, her mind swirling with questions she couldn't ask. Finally, she turned and left the room, her heart heavy with uncertainty.

As she walked back down the dark corridor, Mae's phone buzzed one last time.

"You're not safe. Not with him."

Mae froze, her breath catching in her throat. She glanced around, her eyes wide with fear. Whoever was sending these messages—they knew more than she did. And they weren't just watching her.

They were watching both of them.

Mae's blood ran cold as she stared at the message on her phone: "You're not safe. Not with him."

Her mind whirled with confusion and fear. What did it mean? Who was warning her? Was it the same person who had been threatening her all along, or was there someone else—another player in this twisted game? The silence of the hallway felt oppressive, and the shadows that stretched across the walls seemed to grow darker, more sinister.

She wanted to march back to Charlie's office, to demand answers, but something held her back. The message had rattled her more than she cared to admit. Mae's gut twisted with unease. Every fiber of her being told her not to trust Charlie, but she didn't know who else she could turn to.

She quickly locked her phone and shoved it into her pocket, glancing over her shoulder as she made her way back to her dressing room. The club was eerily quiet now, the echo of her footsteps bouncing off the walls. For the first time since she had joined Hell's Angels, it didn't feel like a place of refuge. It felt like a trap—one she didn't know how to escape.

As soon as she closed the door to her dressing room, she locked it and sank onto the vanity chair, her mind spinning. She needed time to think, to piece together what was happening, but every lead felt like it was shrouded in darkness.

She had been receiving threats for weeks now. The messages, the phone calls, the men watching her—it all pointed to one conclusion. Someone was trying to control her, to manipulate her into staying in line, and Charlie had been the only one who seemed to have her back.

But now?

Mae's fingers tightened around her phone. The message was clear—someone else knew about the danger, about Charlie. But why? What was it about him that wasn't safe? She remembered the way he had reacted when she mentioned Layla, the way his eyes had darkened with something cold and unreadable. It had been subtle, but she had seen it.

Had Charlie known about Layla all along? Was he involved?

A sickening feeling settled in her stomach. Mae thought back to every conversation she'd had with him over the past few weeks. Charlie had always been protective, always trying to shield her from the threats, but had that been genuine concern, or was there something darker behind it?

Her thoughts spiraled as she stared at her reflection in the vanity mirror. She looked exhausted, her black hair falling limply around her face, her eyes shadowed with fear and uncertainty. She had to get out of here, had to figure out what was happening before it was too late.

But how? Where would she even go? The threats weren't going to stop, and now she wasn't sure if Charlie was someone she could trust anymore.

Another buzz.

Mae's heart skipped a beat as she fumbled for her phone, dread filling her with every second. When she looked at the screen, her stomach flipped.

"Meet me in the VIP lounge in 10 minutes. Alone."

It was from Charlie.

Mae's hand shook as she stared at the message. The VIP lounge? Why there? And why alone? Her mind raced with possibilities, but none of them seemed comforting. She didn't know if she could face him right now, not after everything that had happened tonight. But refusing to meet him would only raise more questions.

She stood from the vanity, her legs still weak from fear, and took a deep breath. She had no choice. She had to go.

The hallway outside the VIP lounge was dark, the faint hum of music from the club below echoing through the walls. Mae's heart raced as she approached the door, her hand hovering over the handle. She had been here countless times before, but tonight, the air felt different—charged with tension.

She hesitated for a moment, then pushed the door open.

The room was dimly lit, the plush velvet furniture casting long shadows across the floor. Charlie was standing near the bar, his back to her, his hands resting on the counter. He didn't turn when she entered, and the silence stretched on, thick and heavy.

Mae swallowed hard, stepping inside and closing the door behind her. She stood still, watching him, waiting for him to speak.

After what felt like an eternity, Charlie finally turned to face her. His expression was calm, but there was an intensity in his eyes that made her heart pound in her chest.

"You've been avoiding me," he said quietly, his voice low and measured.

Mae's throat tightened. "I've had a lot on my mind."

Charlie took a step toward her, his eyes locked on hers. "I can help you, Mae. But you have to trust me."

There it was again—that word. Trust. But Mae didn't know if she could anymore. She didn't know if she should.

She shifted nervously, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her jacket. "What's really going on here, Charlie? You're not telling me everything."

He watched her for a long moment, his gaze unreadable. Then, slowly, he crossed the room and stood in front of her, his presence overwhelming.

"I've been protecting you from things you don't understand," he said softly, his voice like a slow, deliberate caress. "You need to let me handle this."

Mae took a step back, her heart racing. "What are you protecting me from? Who are they, Charlie?"

Charlie's eyes darkened, his expression hardening. "It doesn't matter who they are. What matters is that you're safe."

"Am I?" Mae asked, her voice trembling. "Because I don't feel safe."

For a moment, Charlie's mask slipped, and something cold flickered in his eyes. "You're safe as long as you stay here. As long as you stop asking questions."

Mae's stomach twisted. The warning in his words was clear. She had been pushing too hard, digging too deep, and now she was paying the price.

"What happened to Layla?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

Charlie's expression didn't change, but the tension in the room thickened. He was silent for a long moment, and when he finally spoke, his voice was cold and distant.

"Layla made her choice."

Mae's blood ran cold. "What choice?"

Charlie took another step closer, his hand brushing against her arm. "She chose not to trust me."

Mae's heart pounded in her chest, her mind spinning with questions. She wanted to pull away from him, to demand answers, but the fear that gripped her was too strong. Every instinct told her to run, but there was nowhere to go.

"I need you to trust me, Mae," Charlie whispered, his voice low and dangerous. "You don't want to end up like her."

Mae's breath caught in her throat, her pulse racing. The threat in his words was unmistakable.

She was trapped.