Chapter 6 – When the Music Stopped
When the lights found the angels, the night bowed in awe.
They were late—beautifully, dangerously late.
The main gate was jam-packed, so the girls slipped through the upper entrance, the staircase where only performers usually appeared.
The moment their heels touched the first step, the spotlight obeyed.
A beam of gold and violet sliced through the darkness, bathing them in light so bright the crowd forgot to breathe.
The DJ froze, then lifted the mic with a grin.
"Ladies and gentlemen," his voice rolled like thunder, "looks like heaven just lost three angels tonight!"
The club erupted. Phones flashed. Whistles cut through the bass.
Liona appeared first—pink dress glimmering like champagne bubbles, her smile soft but lethal.
Nelson's jaw went slack. The cool boy was gone; only awe remained.
Behind her came Clara, wrapped in yellow silk that caught every shimmer of light.
Johnson's heart skipped; he forgot how to breathe. The girl he'd argued with now looked like sunlight itself.
And then Sonia—bold, blue, and blinding.
Peter clutched his chest dramatically. "This girl's killing the beat!" he shouted over the music.
The trio formed a perfect line: Liona left, Clara center, Sonia right.
They didn't walk—they glided, hips syncing to the rhythm, confidence dripping from every step.
The crowd parted for them like the sea for royalty.
Nelson leaned in toward his friends, voice low.
"Bro… I've fallen for Liona. Deep."
Peter grinned. "Sonia's got my heart on the dance floor."
Johnson only whispered one word, almost a prayer. "Clara."
The music swallowed everything after that.
Lights flashed, perfume twirled in the air, laughter melted into the beat.
They danced until the world blurred—three goddesses commanding their kingdom of rhythm.
But even queens need a moment alone.
"Girls," Clara shouted over the bass, "I need the washroom!"
"I'll come with you," Liona offered.
Clara waved her off. "No, Sonia will be alone. I'll be quick."
She slipped away, weaving through the crowd toward the dim hallway where the lights faded into shadow.
That was when he appeared.
A figure in black, face half-covered by a mask, trailing her footsteps like a whisper.
Clara barely noticed him until a hand clamped over her mouth.
A sweet, sharp scent hit her nose. Her world spun.
"Help—!" she tried to scream, but the sound drowned beneath the music.
"Shut up," the masked voice growled. "You don't need to know who I am."
Fear sliced through her like ice. She kicked, twisted, fought, but his grip only tightened as he dragged her into a dark room.
Her muffled cries echoed off the walls. "Please! Someone help me!"
Fate listened.
Johnson turned the corner at that exact moment, his steps slowing when he saw the struggle.
For one heartbeat, he froze—then rage ignited in his eyes.
The music outside was wild and careless.
But inside that hallway, the night had turned deadly quiet.
End of Chapter 6