The Alpha Behind The Mask-Chapter 114: Help!

​Aurora’s POV

​I sat there, my eyes darting frantically through every corner searching for Clara, but she was gone. Probably lost in the sea of bodies with that guy in the sharp suit. I looked toward the bar, and my stomach dropped. The arrogant guy—Caspian, I’d heard someone call him—was leaning against a pillar, his eyes fixed on me like a predator watching a cornered rabbit. He wasn’t even pretending to dance anymore. He was just staring. Suddenly, a girl in a sequined dress slid onto the sofa next to me. She didn’t look at me, instead leaning forward as if adjusting her heel.

​"Don’t react," she whispered, her voice low and urgent. "I overheard Caspian Vane talking to his enforcers. He’s planning on abducting you the moment you step out of this place. He is a well-known abuser and thinks he’s untouchable. Girl, you need to call someone to get you out of here. Now."

​She stood up and vanished back into the crowd before I could even thank her. My breath hitched. I pulled out my new phone, my fingers trembling so hard I almost dropped it. I typed "Caspian Vane" into the search bar, and my eyes widened. He was the son of a high-ranking Council member.

​I was in deep trouble.

​Panic flared in my chest. I immediately dialed Oliver’s number. Pick up, please pick up.

​"You’ve reached the office of the Alpha King. Please leave a message..."

​"No, no, no!" I whimpered, slamming the phone down on the table. He was on the jet coming back.

​I looked up. Caspian was whispering into the ear of a massive, scarred man who looked like he’d been built out of granite. They both looked at me and smirked.

​I scrolled through my contacts, my vision blurring with tears of pure terror. Who was left? I had no family. Clara was missing. Then, my thumb hovered over a name that made my heart stop for a different reason.

​Raymond.

​I shook my head, a sob escaping my throat. It’s ridiculous. He’s in France. He’s a murderer. He doesn’t care about me—I’m just an obsession to him. But as Caspian began to stand up and walk toward the VIP exit, cutting off my only path to the door, I realized I had no choice. If Raymond wasn’t in the country, at least he had connections. He was an assassin; he knew how the underworld worked.

​I hit dial.

​The phone rang once. Twice. On the third ring, it was picked up.

​"Aurora?"

​The voice was deep, rasping, and for a terrifying, fleeting second, it sounded almost like Oliver’s—but the cold, sharp edge was unmistakable. It was Raymond.

​"Please," I whispered, my voice cracking. "Please, Raymond... I’m at the Eclipse Lounge. There’s a man... Caspian. He’s going to take me. Please send someone, I—"

​"Aurora? I can’t hear you! What the hell is that noise?" his voice thundered over the bass of the music.

​The connection was breaking up. I looked up and saw Caspian only ten feet away, a predatory glint in his eyes. I ended the call, my heart hammering against my ribs, and frantically typed out a message with numb fingers.

​[HELP. Eclipse Lounge VIP. Caspian Vane is going to kidnap me. Oliver is in Canada. Please, Raymond. I’m scared.]

​I hit send.

​The "Delivered" icon appeared on my screen, and for a split second, a flicker of hope ignited in my chest. But then, the screen suddenly shifted—Oliver was calling.

​My heart leapt. He’s back! I tried to swipe the green icon, my thumb shaking, desperate to hear his voice, to tell him I was sorry, to tell him to save me. But before the call could connect, the screen flickered once, a low-battery warning flashed, and the phone went pitch black.

​"No!" I whispered, frantically pressing the power button. "No, please, not now!"

​It was dead. I was completely cut off.

​Panic flared, hotter and more suffocating than before. I was helpless. If only I had my wolf, I could have reached out through the mind-link, felt Oliver’s powerful presence, and guided him to me. I thought of how angry he would be—he had asked me to stay safe in the penthouse, he had cherished me last night, and now I was in a den of vipers because I couldn’t handle a few hours of silence.

​I sat there for twenty minutes, my eyes darting toward the entrance, praying that a friend of Raymond’s—or anyone—would burst through those curtains. But no one came. The VIP lounge felt like a gilded cage, and the air was running out. 𝚏𝗿𝗲𝐞𝐰𝚎𝕓𝐧𝚘𝘃𝗲𝐥.𝐜𝚘𝕞

​Caspian finally lost his patience. He stood up, his expression shifting from a smirk to a cold look of irritation. He walked over to me, and as he reached the table, he didn’t grab my arm. Instead, he leaned down, his jacket falling open just enough for me to see the cold, black steel of a suppressed handgun pointed directly at my ribs.

​Only I could see it. To anyone else, it looked like he was just whispering sweet nothings in my ear.

​"Stand up, bitch," he hissed, the smell of alcohol heavy on his breath. "Walk out of here with me quietly, or I’ll blow your head off right here on this sofa. And trust me, no one will make a sound."

​My breath hitched, a sob trapped in my throat. I looked around one last time—the music was still pounding, the strobe lights were still blinding, and no one was looking at the girl in the midnight-blue dress being led to her death.

​"Get up," he growled, nudging the barrel of the gun into my side.

​I stood on trembling legs, my knees feeling like water. He wrapped a possessive, iron-tight arm around my waist, mimicking the way Oliver held me, but this felt like the coil of a snake. He began leading me toward the back exit, the one that led to the dark, secluded alleyways behind the lounge.

​"That’s a good girl," he murmured as we pushed through the heavy steel service doors.

​Caspian’s black SUV was idling at the end of the passage as I was being led out.

​"Into the car," he commanded, shoving me toward the open door where his massive enforcer stood waiting.

​I closed my eyes, a single tear sliding down my cheek. Oliver, please, where are you?

​But just as the enforcer reached for my hair, the sound of a heavy engine roared from the opposite end of the alley. A bike—a matte black Ducati—screamed toward us, its headlights blindingly bright.

​The bike didn’t slow down. It skidded to a halt in a cloud of burning rubber, blocking the SUV’s path.

​Caspian spun around, raising his gun, but he wasn’t fast enough. A figure dressed in all black jumped off the bike. Before Caspian could pull the trigger, a silver blade flashed through the air, pinning Caspian’s hand to the brick wall behind him.

​Caspian screamed, the gun clattering to the pavement.

​The figure stepped into the light of the SUV’s beams. He pulled off his helmet, revealing hair as dark as midnight and eyes of venomous intent behind a masked face.

​He didn’t even look at the bleeding Caspian. His gaze was locked on me, and for a second, I saw the scorpion tattoo on his wrist flex as he gripped a second blade.

​Raymond!