Chapter 5

The noise of the retro roller rink faded into a distant, rhythmic hum as I followed him deeper into the labyrinthine corridors of the venue. The air here was cooler, smelling faintly of old wax, popcorn butter, and the sharp, electric tang of ozone from the arcade machines lining the walls. We had slipped away from the main floor, past the rows of claw machines and the flashing lights of *Pac-Man* cabinets, seeking out the narrow hallway that led to the coat check and the staff-only storage rooms. He didn’t speak, but his hand was a firm, possessive weight on the small of my back, guiding me. His fingers pressed against the fabric of my denim skirt, and I could feel the heat radiating through the thin material, a stark contrast to the chill in the air. My heart was hammering against my ribs, a frantic bird trapped in a cage, beating in time with the thumping bass that still vibrated through the floorboards beneath my skates. I looked up at him, my head tilted back, and saw the predatory glint in his eyes. He was already looking at me like I was his, like he had already claimed me,