Chapter 5

Bella’s pov

The clapping died down as the curtain came down, but my heart was still intact.

With each heartbeat, it echoed the same question in my chest:

“ Who is he?”

I froze behind the curtain, clinging to it for support as my legs trembled beneath me and my breath came in ragged gasps.

The lights, noise, and chaos around me faded into insignificance as fear took hold.

All I could see were his grey eyes.

Grey like a brewing storm. Cold. Controlled. Piercing through the haze of lust and smoke like they belonged to something not entirely human.

He wore a black mask that cut across his face like some twisted masquerade.

But it wasn’t for show. It was a warning.

The kind that says, don’t look too long if you value your life.

And I had.

I’d looked.

And winked.

I staggered into the dressing room. Lila was talking, Sasha was screaming into her phone about her broken nose, and someone had dropped a tray of fake lashes all over the floor. But it all blurred together into static.

I sat down in front of the mirror and gazed at my reflection. Lips beaded with sweat smudged eyeliner.

Pupils still wide from adrenaline. I looked possessed.

No.

I looked marked.

Because those eyes hadn't just watched me.

They’d claimed me.

*****

I was halfway into wiping down when my phone buzzed.

I scowled. I hardly ever used it outside of emergencies, so it was tucked into the side of my bag.

Unknown number.

“You were magnetic tonight, baby girl. But you shouldn’t have winked at him. It made me jealous.”

My breath caught.

I dropped the phone like it burned.

Lila glanced over. “You okay?”

I nodded too fast. “Yeah. Just tired.”

I picked the phone up again, hands trembling.

Blocked.

I blocked the number without responding. I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of a reply.

But it didn’t matter

Because I noticed another message attached to the bottom of the mirror, as if it had been there the entire time, when I turned to face it.

“You’re mine. Don’t forget it.”

*****

The city felt louder that night.

Like it knew I was being watched.

I moved more quickly, with my jacket stuffed full of cash and my hoodie pulled over my hair. I deviated from the norm. I doubled back twice. I avoided alleys.

But it didn’t matter how clever I thought I was

He was always a step ahead

I dumped my suitcase on the floor, cranked all the deadbolts, pushed a chair under the handle and locked the door behind me when I arrived at Jade's flat.

I didn’t shower,I didn’t eat, I just sat in the dark living room, I sat with my phone in my hand staring at the screen like it might light up again.

It didn’t.

Not that night.

But I didn’t sleep.

Because every time I closed my eye, he appears

Sitting in that booth.

Back straight.

Gloved hands resting on his knees.

Staring like I was a show meant for his eyes alone.

And maybe I was.

The next morning, Jade came stumbling in at dawn, smelling like vodka and some guy’s regret.

“Did you kill someone?” she asked, tossing her heels across the room.

I looked up from the floor.I hadn’t moved since she left

“No.”

“ Then why do you look like you have seen a ghost?”

Because I think I have.

But I didn’t say that.

Although she didn't press, she raised a brow. Asking enquiries she didn't want answers to was not Jade's style.

Entering the bathroom, she switched on the shower.

When the water started running, I checked the phone again.

Still nothing.

I should’ve been relieved.

But I wasn’t.

I felt... abandoned. Like the silence was a new kind of punishment.

*****

I forced myself to eat, dress, and head back to the club that night.

Back to the Velvet Room.Back to the smell of smoke, perfume, and secrets.

When Max spotted me, he remained silent.

Just gave a small nod of approval and waved me toward the main floor.

“You’re headlining tonight,” Crystal said. “Make them remember you.”

I stepped into the lights, back onto the stage where it all started. But something was different now.

I wasn’t performing for the crowd anymore.

I was performing for him.

And the question clawing at my brain wasn’t if he was watching.

It was where.

Was he behind the bar?

In the shadows by the stage?

With some stolen identities and a glass of unopened whisky in a VIP booth? I twisted, swung, and danced as though I had something to prove.

And then

I saw him.

Again.

Same black mask.

Same grey eyes.

Leaning casually against the far wall, where the lights barely reached. Arms crossed. Motionless. Like a statue that had decided to come to life just to haunt me.

I stared at him. Brazenly.

He didn’t blink.

Didn’t move.

Didn’t smile.

Just watched.

I broke eye contact first. Finished my set. Collected the bills raining around me. But my mind was far away already with him. Already wondering what he was thinking behind that perfect mask.

He was gone by the time I attempted to look again.

Again.

*****

I tried to relax backstage by taking deep breaths.

I wiped sweat from my neck and peeled the bills off my body, trying not to tremble.

I was alone in the room, for now.

Until I wasn’t.

My phone buzzed again.

Another unknown number.

“You dance for them. But you only look for me. Don’t worry, baby girl. I’ll always be watching.”

Then a second message, seconds later:

“ You're gorgeous when you’re afraid.”

The phone was thrown across the room by me.

It broke as it struck the wall.

Before continuing, I tried to relax by taking deep, slow breaths.

I attempted to control my shaking hands as I wiped sweat from my neck and peeled the sticky clothing from my skin.

But despite my efforts, I stood there gasping for air, my heart racing wildly.

The dressing room offered me no sense of security.

I wasn’t safe on stage.

I wasn’t safe anywhere.

Because he didn’t just see me.

He knew me

Something was waiting at the door when I eventually returned to the flat that evening.

A gift bag.

Black. No tag.

Inside was a single item:

A delicate, lace-trimmed blindfold.

And a note.

“ If you won’t stop looking at them, I will help you to keep your eyes where they belong. On Me.”