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Roman steps aside to let us in and Oberon and I walk through the door, stepping past him into the club’s innards. The hallway is just another throat ready to swallow us whole, and I can feel myself getting claustrophobic at the sensation of being back here—or at least, somewhere like here, somewhere like Dreamland.
“You trust this guy, right?” I hiss.
Oberon nods. “He’s loyal to Nero, not Caius—this whole club is, actually.”
“I didn’t realize there was a divide.”
Oberon hums. “Nero…he pulled me aside that night you called out Diesel on his shit. He made it clear he wants business as usual in the city, not whatever Caius has planned.”
“So he doesn’t want war, but he’s perfectly fine with human trafficking,” I mutter.
Oberon snorts. “Guess you should take that up with him if you ever get the chance.”
As we navigate the corridor, the music grows louder, thumping against my chest like the rapid beating of a caged bird. The dimly lit walls are adorned with posters of scantily clad women, their provocative poses mocking me as I pass. The air is heavy with anticipation and desperation, a heady mixture that threatens to suffocate me.
Oberon’s hand remains a steady presence at my lower back, grounding me in the here and now. His touch is both comforting and electrifying, a stark contrast to the treacherous atmosphere surrounding us. With each step, I feel the weight of responsibility settling on my shoulders—a weight that I am all too familiar with.
The dancers at Dreamland…they weren’t the only ones kept as prisoners in this city. Dens of vice litter Pacific City’s streets, and all the omegas here need help.
My help.
It’s overwhelming.
A door looms ahead, guarded by two burly bouncers who eye us warily. It’s clear they recognize Roman, but their eyes linger on me with a mix of curiosity and skepticism. Roman comes up behind us and goes in for a handshake with one of them, grinning.
“Just letting some friends in through the back,” Roman says. “Boss said it was okay.”
“The boss?” I whisper to Oberon.
“Nero…I guess,” Oberon says. “Didn’t realize he was in good with anyone that high up, but…”
I guess he is, though, because the bouncers let us through. On the other side is a neon wonderland, bright lights shining on the stage just ahead. A dark-haired girl that reminds me of Lark is spinning on the pole, a smile plastered on her face that doesn’t quite reach her eyes.
I know that look all too well.
As we make our way further into the club, the pulsating rhythm of the music intensifies, matching the fluttering of my heart. The air is thick with a mixture of sweat, alcohol, and desperation, creating a heady concoction that threatens to drown out rational thought. The neon lights flicker and dance, casting a kaleidoscope of colors across the room, as if trying to distract us from the darkness that lurks beneath the surface.
Roman guides us through a labyrinth of bodies, each one lost in their own personal hells. The dancers on stage move with practiced grace, their bodies contorting and swaying in time with the music, but their eyes betray a weariness that cannot be concealed. I watch them as they spin and twirl like marionettes, their smiles forced and hollow, mere masks to mask their pain.
Oberon’s grip on my lower back tightens slightly, offering me an anchor amidst the chaos surrounding us.
“I know this isn’t easy,” he says in a harsh whisper, barely audible over the din of the club.
“Nothing ever is, right?”
Soon, we’re being guided into a private booth, Roman ordering three beers from a half-naked omega waitress with dark circles under her eyes. She nods and walks away, her hips swaying, a man slapping her ass as she retreats into the lights of the club.
“It’s good you two came,” Roman says, leaning forward. He glances around—I’m sure to make certain there’s no one listening. “There’s some shit going down and I don’t like a single bit of it.”
“What do you mean?” Oberon asks.
Roman takes a deep breath, his eyes darting from side to side as if expecting danger to pounce on us at any moment. “There are rumors, whispers in the shadows,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “Rumors that Caius has been trying to get rid of Nero.”
My heart skips a beat, and I exchange a quick glance with Oberon. This…it’s unexpected, but it presents us with an opportunity. One we can’t miss out on.
Even if Nero is in on this ugly business…the enemy of my enemy is my friend. And Caius Rossi is the worst of them all.
“Why would he do that?” Oberon’s voice trembles with concern, mirroring the fear that claws at the edges of my mind.
