The Mirror's Lie

Toxic

The airport lights blurred into streaks of gold and silver as the crew made their way toward the coach waiting outside the terminal.

Lena followed them quietly, her body aching from the long flight and her nerves still buzzing from… him.

Zayn Specter.

Just thinking his name sent an uninvited shiver down her spine. His eyes, that voice, the way his gaze felt like it could strip her down to her very soul. She’d refused his offer for a ride — God help her, it had taken everything in her not to say yes.

Now, sitting in the coach between two chatty flight attendants, she tried to focus on anything else.

Mike, the cabin supervisor, turned around from his seat at the front, flashing his usual confident grin.

“Well, team, excellent job today! Smooth flight, happy passengers, no complaints. And special kudos to you, Lana,” he said, pointing his pen toward her. “You handled the VVIP like a pro.”

Lena blinked, caught off guard. “Oh, uh, thank you, Mike. Just doing my job.”

Mike arched an eyebrow, that knowing glint in his eyes that made her instantly wary. “Just doing your job, huh? Because from where I was standing, it looked like Mr. Specter couldn’t take his eyes off you.”

The rest of the crew chuckled, and Lena felt her cheeks heat immediately. She gave a nervous laugh, waving off his words. “He was just being polite. Friendly.”

Mike leaned back in his seat, smirking. “Aham. Friendly.” His tone made the word sound anything but innocent.

Lena groaned softly and looked out the window, silently praying for the ground to swallow her whole.

Mike turned his attention back to the rest of the group. “Anyway, people, we’ve got a long layover. You know what that means—party night!”

A cheer erupted through the coach, followed by a wave of chatter and laughter.

Lena’s eyes widened slightly. “Party night?” she murmured before catching herself. Her sister would know this. Of course, she would. The real Lana probably lived for these moments.

She quickly schooled her features, pretending she knew exactly what they were talking about. “Oh, right. That.”

The others were already discussing venues, tossing around names of clubs, arguing about dress codes and music. Somewhere in the conversation, someone said something about Toxic, the hottest nightclub in town, and the group’s enthusiasm doubled.

Lena leaned back in her seat, rubbing her temple. A night out was the last thing she wanted. All she could think about was a shower, a soft bed, and maybe eight hours of dreamless sleep.

But she also knew she couldn’t draw attention to herself. If she refused too quickly, someone might start asking questions.

So, a few hours later, against every natural instinct she had, Lena found herself standing in front of the hotel’s mirror — and almost didn’t recognize the woman staring back at her.

Her reflection looked… bold.

Daring.

Like her sister.

The white-silver bandage dress clung to every curve like it had been poured onto her body — and unfortunately, it was one size too small. It was short enough to make her consider inventing a tragic emergency to skip the night altogether.

She’d tried to excuse herself earlier, mumbling something about not having the right clothes, but one of the girls — bubbly, petite, and far too enthusiastic — had insisted she borrow a spare.

“Don’t worry,” the girl had said. “You’ll look killer in it. Trust me!”

Now here she was, tugging at the hem every three seconds as she made her way through the hotel lobby toward the others.

The moment Mike spotted her, his grin turned devilish. “Lana, stop pulling on it,” he teased. “It’s not going to magically grow extra fabric.”

Lena flushed crimson, clutching her small purse as the rest of the crew laughed good-naturedly.

“Looking fine, girl!” one of the attendants called.

“Damn, Lana!” came another voice — this one belonging to the First Officer, who let out a low whistle of appreciation.

Lena’s face burned hotter than the desert sun. “Thanks,” she muttered, wishing she could disappear into the floor.

She wasn’t used to this kind of attention. Her usual wardrobe consisted of soft sweaters and jeans, not… this. This was her sister’s world — glittering, loud, intoxicating.

As they piled into a row of waiting taxis, Lena found herself wedged between two giggling attendants, the hum of laughter and music already filling the night.

“Toxic, here we come!” someone shouted, and the group erupted in cheers.

Lena smiled weakly, staring out the window as the city lights streaked past. Her nerves were a tangled mess — part exhaustion, part unease, and maybe just a small thread of curiosity.

She’d spent so much of her life being the quiet one, the cautious one. Maybe this night wouldn’t kill her. Maybe pretending to be Lana for one more evening wouldn’t hurt.

Still, as the taxi pulled up to the neon-lit entrance of Toxic, her stomach twisted with a strange feeling — a mix of dread and anticipation.

The bass thumped through the ground, lights pulsing like a heartbeat. People lined up outside, glamorous and wild, every one of them glowing under the night sky.

--

After barely thirty minutes inside Toxic, Lena was already overwhelmed.

The club was chaos wrapped in neon — flashing lights, pulsing bass, laughter that sounded almost manic. The air was thick with perfume, sweat, and something sharper — the smell of spilled alcohol and too many intentions.

This wasn’t her world.

This was Lana’s.

Everywhere she looked, people were pressed together, bodies moving in sync with the music, eyes half-lidded with pleasure or mischief. The noise, the strobe lights, the constant contact — it all pressed in on her like a physical weight.

She wanted out.

But she couldn’t. Not yet.

She tried to smile when one of the girls from the crew handed her a shot glass filled with golden liquid. “Come on, Lana, you’ve been so tense tonight! Live a little!”

Lena shook her head. “I’m good, really—”

“Oh, stop it,” the girl laughed. “It’s just tequila!”

Just tequila, she said.

For Lena, it might as well have been rocket fuel.

But under their collective cheering, she caved.

One shot.

The liquid burned all the way down, her eyes watering instantly.

“See? That wasn’t so bad!”

They handed her another.

Then another.

After the third, she’d stopped protesting. The warmth spread through her veins, loosening the knots in her chest, softening the edges of the night. She laughed — actually laughed — when Mike twirled her on the dance floor.

For a fleeting moment, it almost felt good.

Until Carter — the First Officer — started hovering again.

“Lana,” he drawled, his grin too smooth, too confident. “You’ve been avoiding me all night.”

Lena forced a tight smile. “I’ve been dancing. With everyone.”

He leaned closer, his breath hot with alcohol. “Yeah, but I don’t want to share you with everyone.”

She stepped back, the smile freezing on her face. “Carter, you’re drunk.”

“Maybe,” he said, eyes glinting. “But I know what I want.”

And what he wanted was uncomfortably clear.

The shots that had seemed like a good idea were now betraying her — her limbs felt a little heavy, her thoughts sluggish. She needed to move. Fast.

“Excuse me,” she said, ducking past him and toward the dance floor where the other girls were still laughing and swaying under the lights.

The crowd swallowed her instantly. Bodies brushed against hers, hands grazing her arms, her waist. Every time she tried to move away, someone else was there — smiling too wide, standing too close.

What the hell is wrong with people not being able to keep their hands to themselves?! she shouted in her mind as she pushed through the throng.

Her pulse was pounding now — not with excitement, but with the beginnings of panic.

The bass thumped through her ribs, too loud, too fast. She couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe.

And Carter was still following.

Every time she turned, he was there — that easy pilot grin slipping into something darker.

By the time she reached the restroom, she was shaking. She pushed inside, leaning over the sink. Her reflection looked pale and wide-eyed, her hair sticking to her skin.

“This is insane,” she whispered.

She just needed a minute. Just one, to put herself together.

But when she finally pushed open the door to leave, her heart lurched violently.

Carter was standing right outside the entrance, leaning casually against the wall, a smirk pulling at his lips.

“Hey, little tease,” he said, his voice low and slurred. “You running from me?”

Lena’s breath caught. “Carter, move.”

“Come on,” he murmured, stepping forward, blocking her path. “Don’t play innocent. You’ve been looking at me all night.”

“I haven’t!” Her voice cracked. She took a step back, but he matched it, the amusement in his eyes fading into something hungrier.

“Carter,” she warned, pushing at his chest. “Stop. Now.”

But he didn’t. His hand caught her wrist, the grin gone now, replaced by a look that made her blood run cold.

“Don’t be shy. You like the attention, don’t you?”

“Let go of me!” she snapped, shoving harder this time, but his grip only tightened. Her pulse was screaming in her ears. She opened her mouth — ready to yell, to scream for help —

When a voice cut through the noise behind her.

Calm. Controlled. And colder than ice.

“You heard what the lady said.”

The air around them seemed to still.

Lena froze, her breath coming in shallow bursts, before slowly turning her head.

And her stomach dropped.

Zayn Specter stood just a few feet away.

For a heartbeat, she thought she was imagining him — that her tequila-blurred brain had conjured the man she’d spent hours trying to forget. But no. It was him. Impeccable as ever, his dark shirt open just enough to reveal a glimpse of the hard lines beneath, sleeves rolled up, eyes like sharpened steel.

Even here, in the wild chaos of Toxic, he looked like he owned the place.