Mae woke up the next morning with a knot in her stomach. The dim light filtering through the blinds did little to dispel the heaviness that had settled in her chest. She had barely slept, tossing and turning as her mind replayed the events of the previous night—the man watching her, Frank's cryptic messages, and the looming VIP event that hung over her like a dark cloud.

Sitting up, she ran a hand through her tangled hair, staring at the empty coffee cup on her nightstand. She felt like she was waiting for something, but she didn't know what. The anxiety gnawing at her insides was worse than ever, and she couldn't shake the feeling that something was about to happen. Something big.

With a groan, Mae pushed herself out of bed and padded over to the small kitchenette in her apartment. She poured herself a glass of water, staring blankly at the wall as she sipped it. Today was the day of the VIP event—the one Frank had been talking up for weeks. She was supposed to be the main attraction, the one everyone came to see.

The thought made her stomach turn.

She had spent years perfecting the art of performing, of becoming someone else entirely when she stepped on that stage. But lately, it had become harder and harder to keep the mask on. The lines between Mae, the performer, and Seraphina, the girl she used to be, were blurring in ways that scared her.

Keep your head down. Stay focused. That's what Frank had said. But it was getting harder to do that when she felt like she was drowning.

Mae finished the water and set the glass down on the counter with a sigh. She had to get ready. The event wasn't until later tonight, but she needed to be at the club early to prepare. There were rehearsals, costume fittings, and meetings with the staff to go over the schedule. Everything had to be perfect. That was the deal.

She took a long shower, letting the hot water soothe her tense muscles. As the steam filled the bathroom, her mind wandered back to the man from last night. She hadn't been able to shake the feeling that he was familiar, that he knew something about her that she didn't. But why? What could he possibly want with her?

And why couldn't she remember where she had seen him before?

Mae stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around herself, wiping the steam from the mirror. Her reflection stared back at her, pale and tired, but determined. She had come this far. She couldn't back out now, not when she was so close to... what, exactly? Freedom? Control? She wasn't sure anymore.

As she got dressed, she glanced at her phone. No new messages from Frank. That wasn't unusual—he wasn't the type to hover, especially not when there was an event to run. But the silence felt heavy, like everyone was waiting for something to happen. Mae tried to push the feeling aside as she finished getting ready.

By the time she arrived at Hell's Angels, the club was already buzzing with activity. Staff members scurried around, setting up tables, adjusting lighting, and preparing the VIP lounge for the night's guests. The whole place felt different today—tense, on edge. Even the air seemed thicker, heavier with anticipation.

"Mae!" Frank's voice called out from across the room, and she turned to see him hurrying toward her, clipboard in hand. He looked more stressed than usual, his brow furrowed and his mouth set in a tight line.

"Hey," she said, forcing a smile. "Everything good for tonight?"

Frank nodded, though the tension didn't leave his face. "Yeah, yeah, everything's set. Just wanted to make sure you're ready. This is a big one, Mae. The people coming tonight—they're important. More important than anyone we've ever had here before."

Mae raised an eyebrow. "More important than the usual VIPs?"

Frank glanced around before lowering his voice. "Yeah. Let's just say these people aren't just here to watch a show. They've got... other interests."

A chill ran down Mae's spine. She had heard whispers about the kind of people who frequented the club—powerful men with deep pockets and darker desires. But she had always managed to keep her distance, to stay out of the deals that went on behind closed doors. That was part of her arrangement with Frank. She performed, she brought in the money, and she stayed away from the rest of it.

"What does that mean for me?" she asked, her voice low.

Frank hesitated for a moment before speaking. "It just means you need to be on your game tonight. No mistakes. No distractions. They're expecting a show."

Mae swallowed hard, the knot in her stomach tightening. She nodded, trying to keep her expression neutral. "I got it."

Frank gave her a tight smile, clapping her on the shoulder before hurrying off to oversee the final preparations. Mae stood there for a moment, watching him go, the unease in her chest growing stronger. Something about tonight felt wrong, like she was walking into a trap and didn't even know it.

She shook her head, forcing herself to focus. She couldn't afford to let her nerves get the best of her. Not tonight. Not with these people watching. She had to be perfect.

Mae made her way to the dressing room, slipping into the familiar routine of hair, makeup, and costume fittings. The other dancers moved around her, chatting and laughing, but Mae barely heard them. Her mind was elsewhere, racing with thoughts of the man from last night, the strange tension in the air, and the cryptic warnings from Frank.

As she applied the final touches to her makeup, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. The transformation was complete. Mae, the star of Hell's Angels, stared back at her with bright eyes and a confident smile. But underneath it all, Seraphina was still there, lurking in the shadows.

The knock on the door startled her, and she turned to see one of the stagehands poking his head in. "Ten minutes, Mae. They're almost ready for you."

Mae nodded, taking a deep breath as she stood up. This was it. The moment she had been preparing for. She had to push everything else aside—all the doubts, the fears, the questions—and focus on the performance. That was the only way she was going to get through tonight.

As she made her way to the stage, the lights dimmed, and the music began to pulse through the speakers. The crowd was louder than usual, the energy in the room electric with anticipation. Mae took her place behind the curtain, her heart pounding in her chest.

The music swelled, and the curtain rose. The lights hit her, and the crowd erupted into applause. Mae stepped onto the stage, her body moving instinctively to the rhythm, her every movement designed to captivate and seduce.

But as she danced, her mind couldn't shake the feeling that something was watching her. Something dark. Something she couldn't escape.

And somewhere in the crowd, she knew he was there.

The music pulsed through the air, thick with the weight of expectation, but Mae moved effortlessly, as if every step had been choreographed for this exact moment. She slid across the stage, her body syncing with the beat, the spotlight following her every move. The crowd was captivated, their cheers and applause like a distant roar that barely registered in her mind.

But something felt off.

Mae kept her gaze steady, her eyes sweeping across the sea of faces in the audience. It was something she had trained herself to do—scan the crowd without ever making direct eye contact. It kept her in control, kept her at a distance from them. But tonight, she couldn't shake the feeling that one pair of eyes was burning into her, more intense than the rest.

The man from last night. She knew he was there, somewhere in the shadows. Watching.

She caught a glimpse of movement near the back of the room—a figure standing still among the sea of shifting bodies. The same dark suit, the same presence that had unsettled her the night before. Her heart skipped a beat, but she forced herself to stay focused. She couldn't let him throw her off, not when everything was riding on tonight.

The lights dimmed slightly, signaling the next phase of her routine. She spun gracefully, her hair catching the light as she dipped and rose again, commanding the stage. But with every turn, she found herself glancing back at the figure in the back, trying to make out his features, trying to understand why he felt so familiar.

And then, for the briefest of moments, their eyes met.

It was like the world froze around her. The crowd, the music, the lights—it all fell away as she locked eyes with him. The intensity of his gaze sent a shiver down her spine, and in that instant, she knew.

He knew her.

The realization hit her like a punch to the gut, but she didn't falter. Her body kept moving, driven by muscle memory and years of practice, even as her mind spiraled into chaos. Who was he? And why did the sight of him make her feel like her past was rushing up to meet her?

Mae forced herself to focus, her movements sharper, more precise. She couldn't afford to let him get into her head. Not here. Not now. She needed to finish the performance, and then she could figure out who he was and why he was here.

The routine came to its final crescendo, the music building to a powerful climax as Mae dropped to her knees in the center of the stage, her arms outstretched, her breath coming in ragged gasps. The crowd erupted into applause, their cheers washing over her like a wave, but all she could think about was him.

The lights dimmed, and the curtain fell. Mae stayed in her position for a moment longer, trying to steady her racing heart. The sound of the crowd faded into the background as she stood up slowly, her legs shaky from the adrenaline and the weight of what had just happened.

She had to find him. She had to know who he was.

Mae slipped backstage, ignoring the congratulations from the other dancers and stagehands. Her mind was elsewhere, consumed by the mystery of the man in the audience. She didn't even bother to change out of her costume, pulling a coat over her shimmering outfit as she made her way through the back corridors of the club.

The VIP lounge was on the second floor, accessible only by a private staircase hidden from the main floor. Mae had never been up there—Frank had always kept her separate from the VIP clients, shielding her from the darker side of the club's dealings. But tonight, she needed answers, and the man watching her was the key.

She reached the staircase, her heart pounding in her chest. For a moment, she hesitated, her hand resting on the banister. She had no idea what she was walking into, but the pull to know who he was, why he had been watching her, was stronger than her fear.

With a deep breath, Mae began to climb the stairs.

The noise from the main floor faded as she ascended, replaced by the low murmur of conversation and the clink of glasses from the VIP lounge. The air felt different up here—thicker, more suffocating, like the walls themselves held secrets she wasn't supposed to know.

At the top of the stairs, a pair of large, wooden doors stood closed. Mae paused, her hand hovering over the door handle. She could feel the tension in her body, every muscle coiled tight as she prepared to step into a world she had only glimpsed from a distance.

Before she could open the door, it swung inward, revealing a tall man in a black suit. He looked her up and down, his expression unreadable.

"You're not supposed to be here," he said, his voice low and firm.

Mae swallowed, forcing herself to stay calm. "I need to speak to someone. He was in the crowd tonight."

The man raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. "A lot of people were in the crowd tonight. You'll have to be more specific."

Mae clenched her fists at her sides, frustration bubbling up inside her. "He was standing in the back, watching me. I need to talk to him."

The man's eyes flickered with something—recognition, perhaps—but he didn't move. "That's not how this works. If someone wants to see you, they'll let you know. Now, you should go back downstairs."

Mae opened her mouth to argue, but before she could say anything, she caught a glimpse of movement over the man's shoulder. A familiar figure was walking away from the lounge, his back to her, heading toward another door at the far end of the room.

It was him.

Without thinking, Mae pushed past the man at the door and hurried into the lounge. The bouncer shouted something after her, but she didn't care. All she could focus on was the man disappearing through the door ahead.

"Wait!" she called out, her voice desperate.

The man didn't stop. He slipped through the door and out of sight, leaving Mae standing in the middle of the room, her heart racing. She ran toward the door, but by the time she reached it, it was already locked.

She pounded on the door, panic rising in her chest. "Let me in! I just want to talk!"

But there was no response.

Mae backed away from the door, her mind racing. Who was he? And why was he running from her?

Before she could make sense of it, Frank appeared beside her, his expression dark and angry. "Mae, what the hell are you doing up here?"

She turned to face him, her chest heaving with frustration. "That man—the one in the crowd. I need to know who he is."

Frank's face tightened, and he grabbed her by the arm, pulling her away from the door. "You don't belong up here, Mae. This is none of your business."

Mae yanked her arm free, glaring at him. "I don't care. I need answers, Frank. Who is he? Why was he watching me?"

Frank's jaw clenched, and for a moment, he looked like he was going to argue. But then he sighed, his shoulders sagging. "I don't know who he is. But you need to stay away from him, Mae. He's dangerous."

Mae's stomach dropped. Dangerous. That one word sent a chill through her, but it didn't deter her. If anything, it only made her more determined to find out the truth.

"I don't care," she said, her voice steady. "I need to know."

Frank looked at her for a long moment, his eyes filled with something she couldn't quite read—pity, maybe. Or fear. Then he shook his head and turned away.

"You're playing with fire, Mae," he said over his shoulder as he walked away. "And if you're not careful, you're going to get burned."

Mae watched him go, her heart pounding in her chest. She had come so close, but the answers were still just out of reach. But one thing was clear: the man in the shadows wasn't just a customer. He was part of something bigger, something darker.

And Mae was going to find out what.