AllFreeNovel
Share Us
The air in the room grows heavy, thick with unspoken fears and shared resolve. We're a unit, a brotherhood navigating in a billion-dollar industry. But by all standards, we're the new kids on the block, and we have them running scared.
On one hand, it's almost flattering because he sees our progress as a threat, but the second he pulls my woman into his fucked-up games, I'm ready to handle him and his club.
Because he took business and made itpersonal.
I swipe through security feeds until Kristine’s face fills the screen—her eyes hold a universe of strength and secrets. She’s unaware of how her world collides with ours now, how she and Asher have become the eye of our brewing storm.
We're keeping up the facade that she's stringing me along to give information to Brandon and Dexter. We're making the most of it, attending social gatherings, the theater, and other clubs in the area.
Thankfully, Brandon has allowed Kristine to visit Asher. However, after every visit, I see her spirit dwindle a little more.
I'm ready to return to hanging out alone, eating one of her homemade meals. I'm ready to put an end to this once and for all.
My phone buzzes—a text message, an unknown number. “Meet me at midnight if you want to keep your club.” A chill races up my spine. This isn't just another threat—it's a promise.
“We've got a bite,” I say, holding up my phone for them to see. Suspicion tightens Landon’s face as he reads the message over my shoulder.
Expanding my social engagements alongside Kristine has unexpectedly transformed me into somewhat of a socialite. Theprestige of her family name, coupled with her connections in the political realm, have our mailbox full of daily invitations.
This newfound visibility has not only elevated our status but also forged essential alliances. Among these new acquaintances are individuals who share a mutual desire to witness Brandon and Dexter receive the retribution they deserve.
People I would have never encountered closed up in this security room.
“It could be a trap,” Andres suggests, his voice edged with caution.
“Or our only chance to get ahead of this,” I counter.
The room falls silent, save for the distant throb of music filtering through the walls. My partners exchange looks—a silent conversation in glances and nods.
“I say we play this game... our way.”
“But what does that mean?” Jackson asks.
I shake my head. “I'm working it out, and thankfully, Kristine's family name is helping me. I'm realizing that people know us as club owners, not individuals, which is good and bad. But to squash this situation, we need to make people understand we're not the men or business to fuck with.”
“Or this is only one of many headaches to come,” Jackson says, and the others nod.
Jackson runs the day-to-day operation of the club. This Dexter situation has truly given us an understanding of what to expect as we build our brand. I just hate Kristine and Asher had to get caught in it.
We pivot to logistics when another alert chimes in—anomalies in our financials flash across Landon's tablet screen: large sums wired out in haste.
“That money was earmarked for renovations,” he says through gritted teeth. “Someone's diverting our funds.”
Jackson slams his fist on the table, frustration finally spilling over. “This is bigger than dirty politics—they're trying to bleed us dry.”
I feel it then—the threads of their plot weaving tighter around us. They want to strangle Club Allure into submission. They want to use Kristine as their pawn to break me open.
The air crackles with tension, my partners' faces lit by the glow of monitors in the darkened security room. I can feel their unease like a living thing, and it's mirrored in my own chest, tight and demanding.
“I say we storm that fucker's club and handle it,” Andres offers without apology.
“We can't just storm Dexter's club,” I say, my voice even but firm. “It's what he expects—a brawl he's already scripted with the cops as his audience.”
Andres paces like a caged lion, his dark eyes blazing. “We hit back hard. Let everyone know Club Allure doesn't bow to anyone.”
Jackson leans against the wall, arms crossed. “Andres is right. We've been on the defensive too long.”
I understand their anger—it mirrors my own. But rage makes you reckless, and that's a luxury we can't afford.
