When she turns to leave, I stand abruptly, my voice tinged with panic. “Will Hell be okay with that?” I ask, knowing how possessive he can be.
She turns back to face me, a smile playing on her lips. “Noir, you work for me,” she asserts, her authority unmistakable.
I glance at Soul when he chuckles, his laughter deep and intimidating. “It’s okay, Noir, I don’t bite,” he says, suddenly sticking out his tongue. It’s split, with two piercings on either side, and my head jerks back, my eyes wide with shock.
“I fucking lick.” He winks with a big grin, and I shake my head once, my gaze meeting Madame’s.
“What the fuck is that?” I exclaim, my tone mixed with disbelief and curiosity.
“Baby, that’s my fucking weapon,” he responds.
Madame rolls her lips inward, suppressing a smile, before turning around and leaving me stunned, with Soul trailing behind her.
Once they’re gone, I slump back into my seat with a heavy sigh. “Hell is NOT going to like this,” I say to Blush beside me, my voice filled with dread.
As I enter the nightclub on the outskirts of town, I raise my chin in a silent gesture, and the bouncers let me through without a second glance. A cigarette dangles from my lips, the hood of my leather jacket pulled up, casting shadows over my face as I travel through the bustling crowd. Eagerness courses through my veins; this is the first lead I’ve had since my cousin’s death, the first phone call telling me where she might be.
Apparently, she’s here with some fucking guy. My plan is simple: kill him if I need too and kidnap her. I have to take her to my uncle, but my instincts scream to slice her throat and be done with it. This past year has been consumed with trying to find her. Whoever the fuck she is, she knows how to hide, which raises my suspicion that I might be dealing with a hitwoman who will put up a fight. I don’t usually fight or kill women, but this one is different. Family is fucking family, and she will die for what she has done.
As I head for the bar, the bass from the music pounds in my ears, a relentless thump that matches the anger in my chest. Although I work and live at a circus and carnival, which is pretty busy most days of the week, there is nothing I hate more than stepping out of those grounds I call home to come to shithole places like this.
While ordering my drink, my phone vibrates in my pocket. I retrieve it and glance down at the lit-up screen. Seeing it’s my uncle, I answer and hold the phone close to my ear. “Yeah?”
“She’s in the VIP section,” he states calmly.
I turn around, my eyes scanning over the sea of people until they land on a dimly lit corner on the other side of the enormous space. A small area is cornered off, and I squint to see a few people seated there. One of them is a young woman with long, straight dark hair cascading down to her hips. She’s wearing a short white dress that hugs her petite frame, and she’s sitting on a guy’s lap, sipping a drink. From here, I can’t confirm if she’s the girl in the picture or not.
“Are you sure it’s her?” I ask, not wanting to kidnap the wrong girl.
“Yeah, it’s her. It’s Harley,” he answers unwaveringly.
“Are you fucking sure?”
“Yes, Hell. Now bring her to me.” He hangs up like the rude motherfucker he is.
I keep my angry eyes locked on her as I snatch the beer off the bar, taking a long, bitter swig. I despise my uncle. If he weren’t family, I would have hacked his head off his fucking shoulders already, but luckily for him, he is. He’s an obnoxious cunt who thinks the world owes him a favour, living his luxury life in his mansion while he dictates to criminals who hate him as much asI do. He is the reason I am the monster I am today and no; I’m not fucking thankful for it.
My gaze remains fixed on her until I see her getting up. I straighten, lowering my beer onto the bar, tracking her every move as she heads in the direction of the restrooms. This is my opportunity.
I creep through the crowd and once I reach the door, I push it open with a force that sends it swinging. I spot her not too far ahead, talking to another girl. I slow my pace, lowering my head, concealing myself behind people in the busy corridor. When she finishes her conversation, she continues forward. As I draw nearer, she suddenly glances over her shoulder and as soon as her blue eyes meet mine, I’m certain it’s her. Her gaze widens in recognition before she starts walking quicker. I fasten my pace, shoving people out of the way to get to her. I flick my blade out, the metallic click causing some women to scream, but I remain unfazed. She looks back again, noticing the knife in my hand, and attempts to run in her tall heels. I close the distance until she dashes into the women’s restrooms.
As soon as I’m close enough, I smash open the door without hesitation. The girls inside scream at my unsettling presence, their shrieks echoing off the tiled walls. My gaze sweeps across the room as they run past me to escape. When I don’t see her, I know she’s hiding in one of the cubicles. As the room empties, I use my foot to boot the doors open, one by one, each crash reverberating through the restroom.
As soon as I hear a noise a few doors down, I walk toward it with deliberate steps before smashing my foot against the door. It swings open with a resounding crash, and I see her perched on the toilet seat, shivering in fear. Her blue eyes are wide and brimming with tears.
“Please don’t hurt me, mister,” she pleads, her voice trembling.
A growl of anger rumbles from deep within me as I storm forward, my patience worn thin. I don’t waste a second hesitating, and I grab her roughly, throwing her over my shoulder in one swift motion. Her small frame feels fragile against my solid build, but I ignore the pang of guilt that tries bubble inside me.
As I stride down the hallway with her, she screams for help, her struggles against me frantic and desperate. But her cries blur into the background noise of the nightclub.. My focus remains unyielding, my grip on her tightening. Her fists pound against my back, her nails clawing at my jacket, but I remain unfazed as each step brings me closer to the exit.
After hurling her into the trunk of my car, I finally arrive at the destination and turn off the engine. As she screams, I draw a deep breath. What the fuck is wrong with me, just do it. Pushing past my doubts, I open the door and step out, heading for the back of the car. I flick out my blade before popping open the trunk and she now lies still, her gaze wide and petrified.
I take a step back and calmly lift my fingers, “Get the fuck out.” I order, calmly.
“Are you going to rape me? Please don’t rape me.” She whispers through sobs.
My jaw tightens, but I don’t give her an answer, I give another gesture. “Get the fuck out or I’ll get you out.”
