BAD HEROINES

4. The Threats

Lian opened his eyes to an unfamiliar ceiling. For a moment, he thought he might be dreaming and started to drift back into sleep when a sharp unease crept in. He sat up slowly, his hand throbbing from the IV tube connected to it.

A nurse, adjusting the line beside him, looked up as he watched her in confusion.

"How do you feel?" she softly asked.

Lian’s voice rasped with confusion, "Why am I here?"

His mind was still foggy, but flashes of memory started piecing together. The club. No, the car with Celine. Then… the ambush. He glanced around, his pulse quickening. Where was she?

"Your friend brought you in after you passed out from gas poisoning," the nurse explained. "You’re lucky it wasn’t worse."

He gave her a strange gaze. Friend? Who? Lian’s thoughts scrambled. He remembered fainting, but everything after that was a blur. Was Celine okay?

Before he could ask more, a woman approached the bed, clearly not a doctor. She had an edge to her look—short honey-colored hair, jeans, a T-shirt—and without a word, flashed an ID badge at him.

"Lian Carter? I’m Detective Rochelle"

Lian instantly connected the dots. This had to be about what happened that night. He needed answers too, so he didn’t object.

"I’ve got a few questions for you," Rochelle said, "Celine Drayton. She’s missing."

The words hit Lian like a punch. Missing? His mind whirred. Did they never find her? Was she taken?

"What... what do you mean missing?" Lian stammered. His heart pounded in his chest, disorienting him further. He hadn’t even fully processed waking up in a hospital, and now this.

"Tell me everything you remember about that night. From the moment you left the club."

Her questions pierced his skull, worsening his headache. He recalled Celine’s habit of disappearing and turning up days later like it was nothing. But this was different. He was there. He saw it all.

Lian struggled to pull the pieces together but relayed everything he could remember.

"So… you didn’t see any faces?" Rochelle pressed, not missing a beat.

"No..." Lian’s voice wavered. But then, something flashed in his memory—a figure, someone who helped him before he blacked out. Was he even helping him?

"There was a woman. Green hair. I’m sure of it."

Rochelle’s lips curled into a smile, but her eyes stayed cold. She snapped her notebook shut. "Green hair, huh? That’s useful." She slipped him a card. "Call me if anything else comes back. And rest. You need it."

Before Lian could even blink, she was gone. And not long after, another figure stepped in.

A guy, about his age, with round glasses and a buzz cut, strolled in like he owned the place. He grinned. "Well, well, well. Look who’s awake! Trying to off yourself now? You remember me, right?"

"Rogan…" Lian muttered, still trying to make sense of things. "Celine’s missing."

Rogan snickered, stepping closer. He leaned in, lowering his voice. "Word on the street is her old man’s been getting threats. Serious stuff."

Lian’s blood ran cold. "Threats? What do they want? And how do you know about this?"

Rogan gave a sly shrug. "Man, have you forgotten? My dad and sis are in the biz. I hear things. But as for what they want? No clue. Yet." He flashed a playful wink. "I’ll dig into it."

"Wait, did you bring me to the hospital?" Lian asked, still piecing together the missing parts.

Rogan blinked, looking genuinely confused. "Me? Nah, man. I was at the café, grinding with my team. No way I was leaving mid-match."

Lian frowned. If Rogan didn’t bring him here, then who did? The green-haired woman? Who was she?

Rogan, ever casual, flopped into the chair beside him. "Look, man. I know you’re worried, but don’t stress too hard. The cops’ll handle it."

Lian’s temper flared at that. He glared at Rogan. "I want her found, okay? Whether I liked her or not… she wasn’t a bad person."

Rogan raised a brow, an amused smirk creeping onto his face. "Ohh… so now you’re realizing you care? After she’s gone? Smooth, Lian. Real smooth."