The fog clung to Mae's skin like a damp blanket, chilling her as she walked. She was hyper-aware of every sound—every distant car horn, every echo of footsteps in the far corners of the street. Her mind raced with thoughts of the figures she had passed and the relentless messages that wouldn't stop coming.

"Time's running out, Mae."

The words echoed in her head, stirring her anxiety into a frenzy. She had to get away, had to escape the web they had spun around her, but no matter where she turned, the world seemed to shrink, leaving her with fewer and fewer options.

She reached the corner of another street, the fog thickening, swallowing the streetlights whole. Mae stopped for a moment, resting her hand on the cold metal of a streetlamp. She was trying to calm her breath, trying to think, but it was becoming harder with every passing second.

I can't keep running forever.

Mae's fingers dug into her phone. She had tried, tried so hard to play it safe, to avoid asking too many questions, but she hadn't been careful enough. Layla's disappearance, the cryptic messages, the suffocating control—it was all leading to this.

She wasn't safe. She had never been safe.

Her phone buzzed again, and Mae nearly dropped it as she fumbled to read the new message. Her fingers felt numb, trembling as she unlocked the screen.

"Come back. Don't make me send someone."

A wave of nausea rolled over her. They weren't just watching her—they were closing in. Every step she took away from the club was a step closer to the unknown, to danger. The club had been her prison, but at least there she had some sense of where the boundaries were. Out here, in the foggy streets of the city, she was lost in the darkness, with no idea who might be waiting for her around the next corner.

Her phone buzzed again before she could even process the last message.

"Mae, don't run. We can find you. You know that."

She took a shuddering breath, glancing around again. The street was empty, eerily silent. But she knew they were out there—watching. They could see her every move. Her pulse quickened, and the walls seemed to close in on her. No matter how far she went, they were always there.

She tried to think. Her mind darted from one thought to the next, desperately searching for a solution, a way to escape. But nothing made sense. There was no way out.

I can't just go back, Mae thought, her heart pounding. If I go back, it's over. They'll own me.

But if she didn't go back...

A shadow moved in the fog. Mae stiffened, her breath catching in her throat as she strained to see through the haze. It was impossible to make out any details, but she knew what she saw—someone was there. Someone was watching.

Mae took a step back, her body tensing. She needed to move. She needed to—

The phone buzzed in her hand again, and she tore her eyes away from the fog to glance at the screen.

"You've made your choice. Don't make it worse."

Her stomach twisted, fear spreading through her like wildfire. She was out of time.

Mae spun on her heel, her heart racing as she started to walk faster, nearly running now. She didn't care where she was going, as long as it was away from the shadow, away from the unseen figures tracking her every step.

Her mind screamed at her to think of a plan, to find some way to escape the clutches of Hell's Angels, but it was impossible. Her thoughts were a jumbled mess, and all she could focus on was the rapid pounding of her heart, the sweat trickling down the back of her neck, and the gnawing fear that at any moment, someone would step out of the shadows and drag her back.

She glanced behind her as she crossed the street, half-expecting to see the dark figures closing in. But the fog was too thick, swallowing everything in its path. For a brief moment, she allowed herself to think she might have gotten away, that maybe she had slipped past their grasp.

But the phone buzzed again, shattering the fragile hope she had clung to.

"Turn around, Mae."

Her breath caught in her throat, and she stopped dead in her tracks, her pulse pounding in her ears. Slowly, almost mechanically, she turned, her eyes scanning the fog behind her. For a moment, there was nothing. Just the thick, suffocating mist hanging in the air.

Then, she saw them.

Two figures, standing at the edge of the sidewalk, their forms barely visible through the fog.

Mae's body locked up in fear, her heart slamming against her ribs as she stared at them. They didn't move. They didn't need to. Their presence was enough. They were reminding her of who was in control, of how powerless she truly was.

She couldn't outrun them. She couldn't hide.

Mae's phone buzzed again in her hand, but this time, she didn't need to look at the screen to know what it said. The message was clear, even without the words.

Come back. Or they'll come for you.

Her legs felt weak beneath her as the weight of it all settled over her like a crushing wave. She had no choice. She had never had a choice. Hell's Angels had been pulling the strings from the very beginning, and she had danced along to their tune without even realizing it.

Mae swallowed hard, her throat dry as she slowly turned back in the direction of the club. She couldn't do this. She couldn't go back, knowing what awaited her, knowing how deep she was in. But if she didn't...

The figures at the end of the street remained still, their silent threat hanging in the air like a guillotine.

Mae's hands clenched into fists at her sides. She didn't want to go back. She didn't want to be a pawn in their twisted game any longer. But what choice did she have? Running would only get her killed, or worse. She couldn't trust anyone, and she couldn't escape.

The club was her only option.

With one last glance at the shadowy figures watching her from the fog, Mae took a deep breath and began to walk back. Her steps were slow, heavy, each one dragging her deeper into the realization that she had lost. Whatever freedom she thought she had, whatever hope she had clung to—it was gone now.

She was theirs.

The lights of Hell's Angels loomed ahead, casting long shadows on the street as Mae approached. The neon sign flickered, the bright colors a stark contrast to the darkness that surrounded the club. Her heart sank as she stepped through the door, the familiar hum of the music washing over her like a wave.

But it didn't feel the same. Nothing felt the same anymore.

Inside, everything looked normal—the dancers on stage, the patrons at the bar, the low buzz of conversation. It was as if nothing had changed. But Mae knew better. She could feel it in the air, the weight of eyes on her, the sense that every movement she made was being tracked, recorded.

She was back, but not because she wanted to be.

Her phone buzzed one last time, and Mae hesitated before pulling it out.

"Good girl. Now stay where you belong."

Mae's hand tightened around the phone, her pulse pounding in her ears. She was shaking, her body trembling with fear, anger, and helplessness. She wanted to scream, to fight back, but there was no one to fight. There was nothing she could do.

She was trapped.

Mae slipped through the club, her eyes darting to every corner, every shadow, searching for the figures she had seen outside. But there was nothing. No one.

As she made her way back to her dressing room, her body on autopilot, Mae realized something.

They didn't need to follow her.

They already had her exactly where they wanted her.