Loud songs. Rumbling grounds. A bass that makes the walls tremble, all greet me, as I enter La Brume. The air smells of sweat mixed with cheap perfumes. I don’t like it. I won’t ever get used to this, but it’s necessary, so I drag myself across the room, toward the bar, until Solenn notices me, and waves me over.

I order my hostage the cheapest beer there is, he doesn’t seem happy, but he accepts it nevertheless before he slips into the crowd disappears.

Solenn raises a brow. “New friend?” she asks me.

I shake my head. “Just teaching him some manners.” I don’t sit down, though I make sure no one’s around to see it when I lean in to slide five cans of dried nuts beneath the counter. “Fletcher’s missing,” I whisper, as she grabs them from me.

I pull away. Solenn doesn’t. She stays there, still, as if she has frozen, her bones turned into cement. ‘Don’t panic,’ I mouth the words this time, because with our current distance, it’s likely she wouldn’t hear me unless I screamed.

Her lip twitches. She crosses her arms. Even though she’s chosen not to comment, I can tell she’s pissed.

Behind me, the upbeat song ends, as another one soon begins right after in this stuffy room decorated by triangular mirrors, that give an impression of the space bigger than it actually is. It’s safe to say half the clientele, is already drunk, or at least, pretending to be.

I wait for them to start dancing again. This time, as my gaze meets Solenn’s, I hold up a fist and two fingers before my chest—our signal.

Her eyes dart across both the staff members and her regulars. It takes her a few seconds before she leaves her post and passes me by to go to the bathroom. I wait for a moment, and then, I follow her in.

We’re the only ones here.

She’s still in the stall, and I take this opportunity to snatch a wig from my bag. As I cover the white in my hair with a chestnut shade of brown, I stare at the new graffiti plastered across grimy, tiled walls. I don’t have time to think of any more than that, however, for Solenn is out of the stall and shoving a memory key between my fingers before I can blink again. “Those nuts better be worth it,” she hisses, next to my ear. And then, “I’ve given you a little extra. Find him.”

Instead of nodding to acknowledge her statement, I turn around and show her a single finger behind my back. Another signal. If anyone didn’t know better, they’d probably think I was rearranging my pants.

I exit the bathroom first. But a hooded figure grabs my wrist and pulls me close to his chest. My back is turned to him. The heat of his heavy breaths falls against my skin. As he runs his hand up my thigh and presses himself up against me, he whispers the words, “Down for some fun, cutie?”

His voice seems familiar, yet I have no way of knowing who he is without seeing his face. I cringe. I elbow him in the stomach and make my way quickly across the dancefloor. “Urgh,” my hand comes to rest against the back of my neck as I huff again. “What a creep.”

I expect the guy to follow me, but when I turn to look at where he’d been standing before, no one is there.

Whatever. I sigh. It’s not like it’s the first time that’s happened.

A man with a bad case of stubble screaming at another guy in one of the club’s faraway corners grabs my attention. I still don’t get why some people insist on leasing the closest thing La Brume has to a VIP section, when they could easily spend their money on much more useful things, but… whoever these two are, they definitely didn’t rent it out for a quick fuck like most do.

I gulp. I step away from their booth, and the flashing lights, emanating from strobes above. I’m slightly worried for the guy who was being scolded, because the one doing the scolding had punched the wall with his tattooed first the last time I looked. And I wish I had time to help him, but every second counts in terms of whether or not be able to find Fletcher again.

For now, I push the two men out of my mind and sneak into a booth of my own. Thankfully, the bouncer taking care of security for this one does recognize me.

Once I’m sure no one’s looking, I grab Solenn’s envelope and tear it open. There’s nothing written on it. It’s only two blank pages.

I scoff. I dig into my pocket to find my flashlight. When I push the bright, ultraviolet glow up to the sheets, lines of messy handwriting and a quickly sketched out portrait appear.

There are shouts from behind the muted, transparent door as people start to jump up, then down, across the dancefloor. I squint to get a better look at the portrait, and a swear escapes me once I’ve gotten a good idea of who the guy staring back at me might be.

There’s no mistaking it.

Between my two fingers, lit in bright, fluorescent purples, is a man with a bad case of stubble—the one wore his temper on his sleeve, in the booth next door.

Now, it’s slowly sinking in that I’m probably going to have to talk to him one way or another. And as much as I love Solenn, I want to punch her right now for doing this to me.

I roll my eyes and sigh. “This is going to be interesting, to say the least…”