"Tess, you weigh like a hundred pounds. You'll get drunk off one beer." Kyle said.

The bartender raised an eyebrow. "We have just about anything you can think of. I'll give you two a moment to decide." He went to speak with other customers.

I turned to Kyle. "I didn't mean only for me."

He looked confused. "You want to get me drunk?"

"I want to see you lighten up and relax, for just one night."

"As much as I'd love to, we're still on a very important mission right now, in case you forgot." Kyle furtively reached a hand into his jacket, probably making sure the files were still secure.

"I was joking. Mostly. That was super conspicuous, by the way. When are you going to tell me what those things say about us?"

He sat rigidly upright in his chair. "Soon. Not here, obviously."

Sighing, I rested my head on one arm, staring at the mesmerizing lights over the dance floor as they periodically changed color.

The sudden ear-piercing sound of glass shattering startled me. It triggered a vivid flashback in my mind of us being shot at earlier that night. A woman next to us had only dropped her drink, I realized. Everything was fine, but my heart was still racing wildly.

I had to sit on my hands to stop them from shaking as I relived the same fear for my life I had felt in our car. The woman beside us cackled. Her laughter sounded too loud—deafeningly loud, and it seemed to echo in my head, growing more and more intense.

"Decide on anything?"The bartender asked, tapping nonchalantly on the counter and jolting me back to reality.

Impulsively, I responded, "I...I'll try your special of the day," and handed the stolen ID card to him.

The bartender's eyes darted between me and the dissimilar blonde girl in the identification photo. Then he shrugged. "Coming right up." He made a red drink and set it down in front of me.

Kyle gave me a burning look of disapproval as I took a few gulps, holding back a cringe as the bitter alcohol hit my tongue. "Sure you don't want any?"

He shook his head in response.

I sat there for a while drinking in silence, waiting for the buzz to kick in, but the tension with Kyle was killing my mood. I stood up abruptly, almost losing my balance. "I'm going to go...hit the dance floor."

Kyle grabbed my arm. "You're not acting rationally right now."

"Thanks," I replied.

"Was this mission too much for you? I thought you'd be able to handle it."

I struggled to find a response. "Why are you always so...condescending? I am handling it.

You're only four years older than me, and you always act like..." I trailed off, losing my thought.

"I saw you freak out when that glass broke." Kyle gave me a look of genuine concern, his hand still gripping my arm, holding me in place. I didn't pull away. I left the decision up to him: whether I would stay or go. He just stared at me, and I couldn't quite tell what he was thinking.

Then he dropped his hand. "Fine, go have fun," he said, to my surprise. "I'm going to be the responsible one and go find us a place to sleep tonight. God knows you're going to feel like shit tomorrow," he muttered as he got up and walked away, leaving me standing alone and feeling sort of guilty.

But I couldn't undo my actions. I was intoxicated, and our conversation was soon forgotten. I made my way to the dance floor, pushing through the crowd. I positioned myself next to a massive speaker, so the music would engulf me and I could forget about the real world.

I took a deep breath and began to dance. This time it didn't feel awkward; all the self-consciousness had been washed away. I swayed to the music, closing my eyes and moving with the slow, driving beat.

There was an odd sense of unity on the dance floor. I was surrounded by dozens of waving arms, all moving as one huge mass. No one seemed to care what anyone thought of them—they just danced freely, all thanks to the magic of alcohol.

Suddenly a hand slithered around my waist from behind. At first, I thought it must have been Kyle, although I wouldn't expect him to touch me like that. Then a foreign voice spoke into my ear, yanking me out of my drunken euphoria. "Hey, baby, I haven't seen you here before. What's your name?"

I could tell by his gruff voice that this man was much older than me. I didn't want to tell him my real name, and I definitely wasn't interested in him. I tried to move away, but his arm tightened around my waist. My back was now uncomfortably pressed into him and his arm was across my torso like an iron bar. "I asked you a question," he said firmly.

I clawed at his arm, but he was much stronger than I was, and he would not let go. We were in a dimly lit corner of the club, so no one could see that anything was wrong. The music was blaring so loudly that I doubted I would be heard if I screamed, and I couldn't draw too much attention. I wasn't supposed to be there after all.

The man started pulling me backward, and that's when I really started panicking and realizing the peril I may have been in. I thrashed and kicked, but it didn't seem to accomplish anything. He merely grunted and tightened his grip even more, like a python crushing its prey.

The man was dragging me down an unlit hallway. He opened a door with his free hand and shoved me inside the pitch-black room. I stumbled and fell, quickly getting up again and ready to defend myself. Listening intently, I heard the door close and a lock click. The man flipped a switch. The fluorescent lights above us flickered on.

We were face-to-face in a grimy bathroom. The man had a crazed, excited look in his eyes. I stared him down. He towered over me by a solid foot and he was standing directly in front of the door. There was no escape—not without taking him down first.

"I knew it. I knew I recognized you. You're a goddamned fugitive. I don't know what the hell you did, but the government's offering a huge reward for you and your friends." He gave a snarly smile. "So, what can you offer me in exchange for not turning you in?" He leaned forward and snatched the ID card from my pocket before I could react. He eyed the girl in the photo. "Hey, this isn't even yours."

While he was still studying the card, I had to make my move. I put all of my strength into a kick to the side of his knee, hoping to injure and debilitate him. He crumpled to the ground in pain. I scrambled to unlock the door and managed to open it, but he reached over and slammed it shut, looking furious.

"You little bitch." He grabbed my ankle and yanked it toward him, causing me to drop to the floor hard. He climbed on top of me and pinned my wrists down, leaning in a little too close for comfort. "I think I know what you can give me."

I spat in his face, then inhaled deeply and let out a desperate, resounding scream. The man's face contorted with anger. He punched me hard in the jaw, then again in the side of the head, rattling my brain in my skull and leaving me dazed.

Outside the bathroom, I heard a faint yelling over the music. The next thing I knew, Kyle had pulled the man away and was shouting in his face, angrier than I'd ever seen him. Kyle swung his fists at the man, landing several blows on his forehead and leaving him lying limp on the floor.

Then he approached me, his expression softening from rage to concern. "Are you okay?"

I was struggling to process everything that had happened and couldn't quite muster a response. Each breath came as a ragged gasp.

"We should leave the city now," Kyle suggested.

"No," I choked, slowly rising from the ground. My vision got fuzzy around the edges, and I almost toppled over, having to grab a sink to stabilize myself.

"You're not okay..."

Facing me, above the sink, was a dirty mirror. I almost didn't recognize my own reflection. I was pale and sweaty, with dark circles underlining my eyes. My lip was split open and bright red blood was dripping down my chin. I wiped it away with a piece of paper towel intended for drying hands.

"I'll be fine," I said, trying to assure myself as much as I was Kyle. "I just...need to rest a bit."

Blackness crept into my vision until it engulfed everything.