The Monster at My Feet novel Chapter 11

The group soon arrived at Muse Lounge. Sylvie Vance stepped out of the car, looking around with genuine curiosity. The entrance was understated yet luxurious, lacking the loud, flashy signs of a typical club, radiating an air of exclusive wealth. People weren't entirely wrong—she really was a country girl who hadn't seen much of the world.

During the drive, she had leaned toward the window several times, trying to sense that familiar gaze. Had her stalker given up? She was dying to know who it was. The sudden, unprompted disappearance of that intense scrutiny left her with a lingering sense of disappointment, an itch of curiosity left unscratched.

The wealthy young heirs were regulars here, navigating the hallways to their private room with practiced ease. A guy named Caleb Cross leaned in close. "What's your poison? How about I get the best bartender here to mix you a custom Mojito?"

Sylvie shook her head politely. "I don't drink."

That innocent admission only seemed to excite the boys more.

"Damn, you're of age and you've never had a drop of alcohol?"

"That's rare. You don't see girls this pure anymore."

"Then you definitely have to try it tonight, right, Sylvie?"

"Caleb, don't you have a girlfriend? You're already calling her by her first name?"

The crowd ushered the girl through the main hall. Surrounded by the group, Sylvie couldn't get a clear look at her surroundings. Then, in a split second, she felt it—that familiar, burning gaze. Wild and intense, just like before, yet somehow different. It vanished in a flash, almost like a hallucination.

She froze, standing on her tiptoes to peer over the crowd. The lounge was packed, but nothing looked out of the ordinary.

A second later, she stepped into the private room.

The moment the door clicked shut, the sound of shattering glass echoed from behind a floor-to-ceiling window in the corner of the main hall.

The man who had been sitting there stood up abruptly, having just smashed his glass.

The room spun. He leaned heavily against the wall, his chest heaving with ragged breaths as he ripped open the top two buttons of his shirt. His Adam's apple bobbed. The veins in his neck strained against his pale skin, looking like a demon trying to tear its way out.

How could this be?

How was she here?

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