Chapter 307: Lock

CHAPTER 308

KATYA POV

A hand suddenly grabbed my arm and yanked me backward. I gasped. My heart practically stopped. For one horrible second, pure panic shot through me as I twisted around.

“Jesus Christ!” The words flew out before I could stop them. Chiara blinked at me.

“You are very dramatic.” I stared at her. My pulse was still racing.

“What is wrong with you?”

“What is wrong with me?” she repeated. “You’re the one walking into the creepy murder hallway.”

I glanced back toward the darkness. The distant light was still on. Steady now. Waiting. A chill crawled down my spine. “I wasn’t walking into it.” Chiara looked unconvinced.

“Katya.” I opened my mouth. Closed it again. Because maybe I had been. Just a little. Chiara sighed dramatically and released my arm.

Her movements were steadier than before, but only slightly. The alcohol hadn’t disappeared. It was just losing the battle against fear. “I swear,” she muttered, rubbing her forehead. “One minute I’m throwing up. The next minute we’re discovering secret hallways.”

My eyes remained fixed on the corridor. The concrete walls. The exposed pipes. The light glowing somewhere far down the passage. The longer I looked at it, the less I liked it. Nothing about it made sense.

Why was it here? Why hide it behind a sitting room And why had Michael locked us inside a room that apparently had another way out?

That part bothered me most. Because Michael had known this room.He owned the club.

Which meant he either knew this hallway existed…Or he didn’t.

Neither answer felt reassuring.

Chiara stared into the darkness for another second. Then she sighed. A long, dramatic sigh.

“Come on.”

I looked at her.

“What?”

“Let’s not do something stupid.” Her hand made a vague gesture toward the hallway.

“That thing is how people die in movies.”

I glanced back toward the corridor. The light was still glowing faintly in the distance. Waiting. Watching. The sight sent another chill through me.

Chiara noticed and before I could argue, she grabbed my wrist again and tugged.

“Come on.”

For once, I didn’t resist. The hallway had lost whatever curiosity it had sparked earlier. Now it just felt wrong. Together we backed away from the doorway. Neither of us turning our backs completely on the darkness until we stepped into the sitting room again. Only then did Chiara reach for the door. She pulled it shut. The hallway disappeared instantly.

Hidden once more. The click of the latch settling into place somehow made me feel better.

Not much.

But enough, neither of us spoke. The room suddenly felt very quiet. Very small. I slowly turned in a circle. The couch. The coffee table. The bookshelves. The cabinet. The locked door. Nothing had changed. Nothing had magically become an escape route. A heavy sigh escaped me.

We were trapped. The realization settled heavily in my chest. There was no hidden window. No second exit— except that other door but God knows where that leads to.

So it was just one door and Michael had locked it. My gaze landed on the handle again. Chiara swayed slightly beside me.

I glanced over. She was standing near the door now. One hand buried in her hair. Digging around for something.

I frowned. “What are you doing?”

No answer. Chiara continued searching. Her expression growing increasingly determined.

“Chiara.” Nothing. Her fingers moved deeper into her hair.

Then suddenly….Her entire face lit up.

“Oh!”

I blinked.

“What?” Triumph exploded across her features.

“Aha!” Slowly, dramatically, she pulled something free. A thin metal hairpin.

I stared and stared harder. The pin glinted under the room’s soft lighting. Chiara held it up like she’d just discovered buried treasure.

“Seriously?” She grinned. A very suspicious grin. The kind that never led anywhere good.

“Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re judging me.”

“I am judging you.”

“Rude.” She walked toward the door. Still clutching the pin.

My eyes narrowed.

“Chiara.”

“Mhm.”

“What are you doing?” She crouched in front of the lock. The grin widened.

“I may or may not have developed certain life skills.”

I stared.

“Life skills.”

“Very useful life skills.”

“Chiara.”

She glanced over her shoulder.

Still grinning.

“Okay, fine.” She paused. “You already know I sneak out a lot.”

She paused.

“You already know I sneak out a lot.” My eyebrows rose.

“A lot?” Chiara gave me a look. Not even with her eyes. With her entire face. The kind of look that said seriously?

“Katya.”

“What?” She pointed the hairpin at me.

“We literally snuck out tonight.” I opened my mouth. Closed it again. Fair. Chiara nodded in satisfaction before turning back to the lock.

“Exactly.” The thin metal pin disappeared into the keyhole. Her tongue peeked out slightly in concentration.

“Also…” She wiggled the pin. “…remember last week?”

I frowned. “What about last week?”

“The beach incident.” My eyes widened.

“Oh my God.”

“Exactly.”

“We nearly got beat up because of you.” Chiara looked offended.

“Well we weren’t.” I stared at her. She wasn’t even ashamed. Not a little.

“That is not the point.”

“It absolutely is.” The pin shifted again. A soft metallic scrape echoed from inside the lock. Chiara’s attention sharpened instantly. Then she continued talking. I rubbed a hand over my face.

The fact that she was trying to have conversation while actively trying to break us out of a locked room somehow made everything worse.

Or better. I honestly couldn’t tell anymore. Outside the room, the distant sounds of chaos still drifted faintly through the walls. But somehow Chiara’s ridiculous confidence made it all feel slightly less terrifying.

Slightly. Another metallic click echoed from inside the lock. Chiara immediately straightened.

“Wait.”

I froze.

“What?”

“Shh.” The grin disappeared. For the first time since pulling out the hairpin, she looked completely serious. Her fingers adjusted slightly.

The pin turned. Nothing happened. Chiara frowned.

“Nope.”

My heart sank.

“What do you mean nope?”

“I mean nope.”

“That’s not helpful.” I stared at her. She stared at the lock. The lock stared at both of us. Then she muttered something under her breath. Something that sounded suspiciously like an insult directed at the door.

A second piece of metal inside the lock moved. My breath caught. Chiara’s eyes narrowed. Seconds stretched. Neither of us spoke. The room felt strangely quiet.

Until…

Click.

Both of us froze. The sound seemed impossibly loud. Chiara slowly looked up. I slowly looked down. Then our eyes met. Neither of us breathed.

A huge grin returned instantly to chiara’s face. “Oh my God.”

“I know.”

“Oh my God.”

“I know.”

“Chiara.”

“I know.”

She rose smoothly to her feet. Well. As smoothly as a slightly drunk woman could. The hairpin remained clutched triumphantly between her fingers. My pulse started racing again. Not from fear this time. From anticipation. The lock was open. The door was actually open.

After everything. After Michael locking us inside. The door was finally open. Chiara reached for the handle. Then she twisted the handle.

The latch released immediately.

Both of us stared. Chiara pulled the door open.

And it opened.