Page 48 of Taken By Sin

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Page 48 of Taken By Sin

“To bed,” I lie.

I hear him in the distance as I walk down the hall. “It’s only six! What about dinner?”

“Not hungry!” I shout back, shutting my door and locking it.

Who does he think he is? Why wouldn’t Sin be excited to see me? I have had such an incredible day, and I don’t wantanything to ruin it. I know he’ll be getting in late, and I want to share this excitement with him.

To give myself some time, I turn on a movie, not paying much attention to it as I mull over what to wear to Roller.

Yes, I’m going and no, I don’t care if Max gets mad about it.

If only Bria were home, she would just tell him off, and we would go together. She would do my hair and help me pick out something beautiful to wear.

It’s eight now, and I’m wearing a sleek black dress with my dark hair pulled into a slick ponytail. I felt unsure, wanting to rip it all off to wear a knit sweater and cozy pants, but this is what people wear to a nightclub, right?

A breath of excitement escapes my lips as I slip out onto the balcony, carefully throwing my legs over the wrought iron railing. My feet gain traction on the trellis of ivy and carefully, I make my descent.

Butterflies flutter in my stomach at such a daring act, sneaking out. I used to do this, but just to go to the gardens at the orphanage, never to go to a nightclub in the city.

A third of the way down the wooden square under my right foot cracks, sending me careening down.

I plummet in a hot woosh of air to the ground, not a moment to gasp, to intake my last breath of air.

But instead of splatting on the ground, I’m encased in a set of arms attached to a smirking man.

“You could have just used the front door, but this was faster I’ll admit,” Max yawns.

I dust off my dress as he sets me on my feet. “If you’re going to tell me?—”

He holds up his hand to stop me. “If you’re bound and determined to see what Sin gets up to after hours, be my guest, but I’m coming with you.”

The nightclub is packed; cars take up every spot in the parking lot, but that doesn’t matter because as Sin’s detail, Max gets to go right to the front. The valet takes away the car.

I stand on the sidewalk, staring at the nightclub's entrance, feeling a strange mix of curiosity and hesitation. The building looks ordinary enough—brick and metal—but there's something about it that pulls me in. Neon lights outline the door, glowing in bright greens and blues, and I can hear the muffled thump of music vibrating through the walls. A long line snakes around the corner, people chatting and laughing as they wait their turn to get inside.

A muscular man stands at the entrance, beckoning us over with the wave of his hand. Maxwell leads us forward, past everyone waiting in the long line.

I shift on my feet as we enter, the entry lights spilling around us, encasing my skin in a blue hue.

People are in another line, paying an entry fee, but again we bypass them. Walking towards a heavy, scarlet curtain I begin to hesitate.

“At least you're dressed for the part,” Max sighs, running a hand down his face.

I roll my eyes. “It’s not like he’s going to kill you for this.” Gaining a little confidence in the throng of people with Max by my side, I stand straighter as he leads me in.

He laughs, “You’re underestimating him.”

As I pass through the heavy velvet curtain, the bass reverberates through me like a physical force. The air feels thick with the smell of sweat and a hint of something sweet, maybe perfume or alcohol, but it all blurs together.

It’s darker than I anticipated, with neon pink and electric blue streaks piercing the blackness. Bodies move in rhythm to the music, shifting and swaying in a way that is both chaotic and beautiful. The lights flicker overhead, and for a second, I feel disoriented, like I'm caught in the middle of a dream.

There’s a haze of smoke that makes everything feel a little distant, like I'm watching it all from the wrong side of a glass.

The crowd is a blur of faces—some laughing, some lost in the music, some leaning close to whisper into someone’s ear. The beat vibrates through my chest, each thump syncing with the pulse of my own heart. The DJ stands on a raised platform, hidden behind a curtain of glowing lights, his hands moving fast over the controls, creating the soundtrack to this whole world of strangers.

I feel out of place, unsure of what to do. A part of me wants to join the people dancing. It’s electric, intoxicating, and for the first time in a long while, I forget to worry.

Wewalk up to a bar top, and Max orders a drink. I don’t want anything; I’m too nervous to sip on a soda. I think he’s feeling the same emotions though, but for very different reasons.




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