Page 5 of The Immortal’s One (Bound to the Immortals #1)

My name… how does Des know my full name?

I think back to the two short conversations I’ve had with Thane. One included Des. I didn’t reveal my name in either one.

“Darcie Abernathy means nothing to me.”

The words linger in my mind, sinking deep like a stone tossed into water, sending ripples through every nerve.

I stagger back, my body stiff with tension as panic begins to set in. I should leave. I should turn around and get the hell out of here.

But instead I stay, unable to move, listening to the brothers. Each word they speak sends a fresh jolt of confusion and dread through me.

I need to find Kayla. I’ll tell her I feel sick. That I threw up in the bathroom. Whatever it takes to get her to leave the club with me.

I take another step back. I need to get away. Now .

At that exact moment, a pair of intoxicated girls barrel around the corner and crash into my back .

The two women screech, flailing their arms. In their wild scramble, they knock me off my feet. My head slams into the floor with a sickening crack. Stars burst behind my eyes. The pain radiates from the point of impact, throbbing through my skull.

One of the women lands on top of me, knocking the air from my lungs.

“Get off,” I wheeze, pushing against the sticky floor with both palms, struggling to dislodge the drunk woman.

She knees me hard in the back of my thigh and scratches my skin through my tight top as she fumbles to stand. I’m about to shout at her to stop, but her weight vanishes before I can get the words out.

I gasp for breath, pushing myself up onto my hands and knees. The world tilts, but at least the pain in my head is starting to fade with every ragged breath.

“Are you okay?”

My neck snaps up, sending a fresh throb through my skull. I squint to focus. When my vision clears, my eyes blow wide. Des stands over me, and maybe it's the potential concussion messing with my head, but I could swear the brusque guy actually looks… concerned.

“Darcie?” He tilts his head to the side. “Are you okay?”

Mortification surges through me. “I’m fine.”

I stagger to my feet, swaying before my shoulder slams into the wall. Des doesn’t budge, offering no help to steady me.

What a jerk.

“Darcie?” Thane’s voice cuts through the haze of my mind, and I tear my gaze away from Des. “What happened?”

I point to the women who caused all this, but they must’ve fled inside the women's restroom .

“She hit her head,” Des answers when I don’t speak. I ignore the way his gruff voice sends butterflies fluttering in my stomach.

“I’m fine,” I insist again, louder this time, forcing myself away from the wall. I don’t want to be here with either of them after what I just heard. “I was just going to find Kayla.”

I take a step forward, but another wave of pain rolls through my head. I tilt to the side.

“Woah.” Thane catches my elbow when I stumble. “You’re not fine. Let me check your head for bumps.”

Before I can protest, his fingers press gently against the tender spot on my skull where I hit the floor. I tense at the touch. It’s clinical but still awkward as hell.

“You’ve got a bump here.” He drops his hands. “Are you dizzy?”

“No.” I try to step around Thane, but he shifts in front of me.

“You should sit down for a minute,” he says. “We can get you some ice from the bar.”

“I just want to go home.” The words come out more desperate than I mean them to. “I can ice my head there.”

All I want is to get away from the men who somehow know my last name without me ever telling them.

Thane opens his mouth to argue, but before he can get a word out, Des interrupts.

“I’ll find your friends.” His voice is brisk, his tone cutting. Without waiting for a response, he turns and vanishes down the hallway.

Why is he so eager to get rid of me?

A flash of irritation jolts through me before Thane tugs on my elbow again. This time, I let him lead me back into the crowded main room .

A strobe light flashes across my face. Pain spikes, pulsing in my temple in time with the music’s beat. The odds I have a concussion seem pretty high at this point.

Thane guides me to a tall chair near the wall, holding my arm until I’m seated. Wary eyes take me in as he steps back. It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him I’m fine on my own, but Kayla emerges from the gyrating crowd five seconds later. Her frantic eyes search the space around me.

Guilt gnaws at me. I don’t want to ruin Kayla’s night, but there’s no way I can stay here.

As if summoned by my thoughts, my eyes are drawn to the edge of the dance floor where Des trails after Kayla. His expression is unreadable, but when his gaze lands on me, I could’ve sworn there’s a flicker of something—maybe worry?—in his eyes.

A pretty redhead brushes past him. My stomach tightens as her fingers graze his bicep, and she flashes him a sultry smile.

Des pauses. My heart hammers painfully. Then, he reaches out, gently removes the beautiful woman’s hand from his arm, and steps away.

I exhale a heavy sigh, a strange mix of relief washing over me.

Wait… why do I care?

“Darcie!” Kayla’s voice cuts through my thoughts, dragging me away from the woman who couldn’t catch Des’s interest. “What happened? Josh and I went back to the table, and you were gone!”

“I just went to the bathroom.” I attempt to brush off her concern. “Then I fell and hit my head. That’s all.”

“That’s all ?” Kayla’s voice rises in disbelief. “Des made it sound like you busted your head open! ”

He did?

I sneak a peek at the unsettling man.

Des stands just behind Kayla, his posture stiff, arms crossed tightly over his chest. His gaze flicks over me—quick, sharp—then darts away. But not before I catch the subtle twitch at the corner of his mouth.

“It’s dark in here,” he says. “I thought I saw blood.”

Kayla gasps and grabs my hand.

I roll my eyes. “There’s no blood. You probably saw spilled strawberry margaritas or Bloody Marys… or whatever other red or pink alcoholic drinks exist in the world.”

This time, he doesn’t turn away in time to hide the way his lips curve upward. “Perhaps. Regardless, you could certainly have a concussion.”

“Oh my gosh!” Kayla squeezes my hand. “Was it that bad? Are you dizzy? Do you have blurry vision?”

She scans my body from head to toe as if she could somehow spot a concussion just by looking.

“Kayla, I’m fine. Really. But I’d rather get away from all this noise.” I wave my free hand toward the chaotic pulse of the club around us. “Do you think we can leave early?”

“Of course.” Kayla bobs her head, dropping my hand and pulling out her phone. “I’ll text Josh to meet us by the car. He’s closing his tab right now.”

God, I love her.

Kayla really looked forward to going out tonight. I would try to endure the chaotic environment for a little longer, but I can’t stay here feeling like this. Especially not around them.

While Kayla types out her message to Josh, I swallow the uneasiness crawling up my throat and turn to Thane. “Thanks for your help back there. ”

He holds my gaze and dips his head once. “Of course. I hope you feel better soon.”

I search his expression for any sign he knows I overheard his conversation with his brother. But there’s nothing. Thane looks as approachable as ever.

I can't shake the feeling that it’s all just an act. But I force a smile, then slide off the chair. My legs wobble when I put weight on them, and before I can catch myself, Thane’s hand shoots out to steady me.

I resist the urge to draw away from his touch. “Thanks.”

Once again, Des didn’t even flinch when my legs almost gave way. His stance is unchanged—still distant, almost guarded—but his gaze lingers. I have no doubt he would’ve let me fall on my face.

“You’re welcome.” Thane’s voice breaks through my thoughts. “Get home safe.”

“Will do.” I loop my arm through Kayla’s and force my legs to keep a slow pace as we walk away from the strange men.

We’re almost to the exit when Kayla’s phone buzzes in her hand.

She checks the screen, frowning. “Damn it. The bartender can’t find Josh’s card. He wants us to come wait with him.”

I glance over the sea of bodies between us and the bar. Dread flows through me. “How about I just wait for you in the car?”

Kayla purses her lips. “Are you sure? I can just tell Josh he’s on his own.”

“No, don’t do that. I’ll be fine. Sitting in a quiet car for a few minutes actually sounds like heaven right now.”

She sighs. “Okay, we’ll be as fast as we can.” She hands me the car keys .

I force myself to smile. “Sounds good.”

Kayla disappears into the crowd, and I resume my path to the exit. Each step toward the door is one step closer to freedom.

The bouncer catches my eye as I approach. He gives me a nod and opens the door, his gaze lingering just a little too long. “Have a good night, sweetheart.”

My cheeks flush. “You, too.”

The moment I step outside, crisp winter air bites at my skin, cooling my face. I inhale a deep breath. The refreshing cold helps clear the fog in my head. I wish I could stay here until Kayla and Josh come out, but my outfit isn’t meant to withstand the frigid temperature for long.

I walk toward the satellite parking lot at the end of the block, my booties’ block heels clicking against the pavement.

People crowd the sidewalks, heading to or from the nearby bars and clubs.

Laughter and inebriated speech mix with the hum of traffic driving past. But as soon as I turn into the parking lot sandwiched between two brick buildings, the noise dulls. The place is eerily empty.

Gravel crunches under my feet, the sound amplified in the silence as I search for Kayla’s car. A single street light casts a dim glow overhead, but it’s too weak to pierce the darkness hovering between the rows of parked cars. I lift Kayla’s key fob, pressing the lock button.

The car beeps, but the headlights don’t flash. I pause, a frown pulling at my lips, and repeat the process—press, beep, no flash. I turn in a slow circle, trying to pinpoint the sound. After a few moments, I spot her car two rows over.

I start toward it, but then the sharp crunch of gravel reaches me.

I stop .

Three figures move in the distance, crossing the empty lot with deliberate, heavy steps. They’re large—too large to be anything but men. The way they walk, quick and purposeful, sends a cold thread of unease down my spine.

I’m not paranoid, but I trust my instincts. And right now, every bone in my body screams to be careful.

I grip Kayla’s keys between my knuckles, a makeshift weapon, and call out, “Hello?”

I read somewhere that one way to deter an attacker is to make them aware you’ve noticed them—make eye contact, speak up. Most will back off, realizing you’re not an easy target. Criminals are less likely to attack someone who could identify them later.

The men don’t answer. They don’t even slow their pace.

I take a slow, calculated step back, my eyes never leaving them. My grip tightens on the keys. My pulse begins to race as I mentally prepare to run.

A deep, slow voice thick with malice sounds behind me. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

I whip around. The sudden motion sends a throb of pain through my skull, but the ache is drowned out by the surge of fear that pours into my veins.

Standing just a few feet away, blocking my path, is a man who looks like he weighs at least three hundred pounds of solid muscle. His broad frame fills the space between Kayla’s car and me, blocking my escape.