Chapter Twenty-Four
Alex
The private locker room at Thasos is empty when I step into one of the tiled stalls for a shower. As I turn the knob, I contemplate my life, realizing how much I’ve been floating in limbo lately. Watching Parker’s father die brought back feelings about Lev. I worry about dying so often that it makes me nauseous, the fear causing me to freeze in my tracks.
Cold water spews from the faucet and causes me to gasp. I jump back and adjust the knobs, waiting for the water to heat up before stepping back under the stream. A long groan escapes me as I tilt my head back and invite the water to splash my chest.
Will death allow me to experience sensations? Feelings? Or is it a restful quiet?
People report their near-death experiences as white-light encounters based on religious texts, but mine was messier—and made my stomach so sensitive that it was difficult to eat for weeks after my overdose. I didn’t see a white light or hear a grand voice calling out my name.
Shit. How do I know I’ll even end up in the right place?
I’m strong enough to handle the unknown, I remind myself while dunking my head under the stream. Hot water soothes my aching muscles and puts me at ease. Besides, no matter what, I’ll be with my parents and Lev again. I’ll always find them, even if I’m not in this vessel.
It’s an oddly soothing feeling to think about my energy seeking theirs. While my mother and I didn’t exactly get along, we were still relatives, and our affairs often mingled. She became as deeply entrenched in my life as I was in hers. And my father was always supportive in one way or another. Lev was much the same.
Surely I would recognize them in death. Undoubtedly I would find them again.
My phone buzzes from the bench on the other side of the curtain, but I ignore it. I don’t care about anything happening on the outside. I just wanted to get away from the pool house for a while, to escape the strong scent of chlorine and fresh ferns. With Julie laundering my clothes in secret, I don’t feel worried about being discovered at the pool house.
But I know my time is running out. I have to get out of there eventually.
My phone buzzes again and causes me to roll my eyes. I wash my body and my hair, then rinse, taking my time to let my muscles relax under the hot water. When I’m done, I turn off the shower and step into the private locker room, eyes roaming the area. Old habits die hard, right?
After wrapping myself in a warm towel, I check my phone. A private number called me three times. My lips turn into a frown as I try to look up the number, hoping to trace where the call came from.
“Good afternoon, Ms. Moretti.”
I shriek while hopping back from the bench, clutching the towel to my chest. “Who the fuck are you? This is a private locker room!”
A Korean man steps from behind a row of lockers wearing a polite grin. He holds up a hand in greeting, seeming so harmless in his expression yet dangerous in the way he approaches me. He’s like a cat, moving in long strides toward me. “Call me Darren—I already introduced myself to your boyfriend.”
“Darren?”
His smile resembles a Cheshire cat. “The Persian.”
My eyes widen. “No.”
“I’m afraid so, yes.” He steps closer, dropping his hand and casually tucking it into the pocket of his charcoal gray slacks. He’s the picture of opulence in gray hues, his Armani suit pressed perfectly and hosting a crimson handkerchief in the breast pocket. He cocks his head to the right as his grin shifts into a vicious smirk. “You tricked us, Ms. Moretti.”
“I don’t…” I back away from him, colliding with the tile separator for the showers. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
His eyes glitter with wickedness. “You do, Ms. Moretti. You’re not a stupid girl.”
Fear lances my heart as I reach to my right for something to defend myself. I don’t give a fuck what it is. I just need a damn weapon. The shower curtain in the next stall slides through my fingers and I stumble in that direction, slipping on a puddle left from my shower.
“You’re a smart girl. Tenacious,” he continues as he approaches me. “And I’m here to offer you a deal, one only the Persian could grant you.”
“I don’t want any deals.”
He winks. “You’ll want this one, dear Alexandra. It’s much sweeter than any you’ve ever been offered.”
“I highly doubt that.”
“Much better than being a toy to a group of hungry wolves. Wouldn’t that be nice?”
My eyebrows rise. I’ve stopped backing away, curious about what he’s about to say next. “Go on.”