Chapter 13

Allison's POV

I'm utterly captivated by the scene before me. The nightclub is a mesmerizing display of opulence, a hidden world far removed from the ordinary. It's clear that everyone here is VIP—only a handful of people are on the dance floor, while most are focused on the pole dancers entertaining the men, their movements fluid and hypnotic.

I'm grateful I'm not alone. Navigating this place on my own would've been a daunting task, with the flashing lights and pounding bass threatening to overwhelm me. Before I know it, we pass through another door, pushing past more blinding disco lights, and step into a red room. The color isn't just a backdrop; it permeates the entire space, casting everything in a deep, sultry glow that feels both intimate and dangerous.

The redness is almost suffocating, like being submerged in a pool of crimson velvet. It's not just the lighting—it's the walls, the furniture, even the drinks in crystal glasses, all catching and reflecting the scarlet hue. The air smells of wealth and decadence, tinged with a sharp, icy chill that seems deliberate, keeping everyone on edge, every nerve heightened.

The scent of vintage alcohol hangs thick in the room—a blend of aged whiskey, expensive cognac, and red wine older than I am. It mingles with sharp, floral perfume notes, like roses dipped in poison. Every breath fills my lungs with this intoxicating mix, making my head spin.

The women in the room are draped in red as well, but it's a shade that screams danger and allure. They move with a practiced grace, their bodies encased in lace that leaves little to the imagination. Garters grip their thighs, holding up sheer stockings that glimmer in the dim light. They slither across the room like dangerous predators, their eyes locked onto the men, ready to strike.

But there's no sign of Darius. The unease grows as I realize he's not here, and I start to suspect I'm in the wrong room. The guard needs to get me out of here—now. But instead of guiding me out, he sets me on the floor, leaving me to find my balance.

"We're here, ma'am. I'll leave you now…"

I don't realize I'm gripping his arm until my fingers dig into the fabric of his suit. My eyes are wild with fear. "Don't you dare leave me here. Please, I'm begging you with... your mother's name." I add with uncertainty.

The guard looks startled, confused by my desperation. He yanks his arm free from my trembling grasp, shaking his head. "You don't even know her name. You're not worth it. Deal with your own problems, miss…" And just like that, he leaves, and the music cuts off as the door slams shut behind him.

"Well, well, what has the cat dragged in?" A voice blooms from behind me—a man's voice, but not Darius's or Zain's. One of the men enjoying his night, no doubt.

I turn, my head held high, masking my fear. With the knife hidden in my waistband, I know I won't let any of these men touch me without a fight.

"Hi. I think I'm in the wrong place. I was just leaving…" I attempt a stiff smile, ready to turn back around, when a chorus of laughter erupts.

"Isn't she Frank's daughter? The girl Darius told us about? Damn… She's rather… unrefined," one of the men sneers.

There are five men, five women to entertain them. So why am I here? Six women to five men—that's unnecessary. But then, I remember Darius isn't here. Could they be expecting me to entertain him? The thought sends a shiver down my spine.

"I don't know what you're talking about. My boyfriend is downstairs. I was just looking for the restroom. I'll leave now…"

"Just leave? Oh, we're doing this, aren't we?" The fattest man in the room exclaims, his tone mocking, making everyone chuckle. "Girl, come sit on my lap!"

"Not happening. My boyfriend will kill you. I'm not one of your girls, I promise."

He shoves the woman off his lap, focusing on me now. As he stands, his gut protrudes, making me gasp in a mix of amusement and disgust.

"Come here, girl. Don't make me come to you, or I'll—"

"You'll do nothing, Rob. She's mine." Darius's voice cuts through the tension, and I shouldn't feel relief, but I do. Just moments ago, I wanted to vanish before he arrived.

"Darius. We weren't expecting you so soon." Rob sits down immediately, adjusting himself uncomfortably, fear evident in his demeanor. Not that I'm proud of it, but I feel a twisted sense of protection.

"She just wandered in. We weren't going to do anything before you came," another man adds, his voice shaky, as the others nod in agreement.

"Hm. I see." Darius's voice is cold as he walks to an empty sofa, sits, and crosses his legs. Something's off; I can sense it. His usual icy demeanor is there, but I detect a trace of sadness in his eyes. What happened? "Sandra, get me a shot of our best brandy. And a cigar."

Sandra, one of the dancers, quickly rises to fulfill his request.

"How's business?" Rob asks cautiously.

The party is over. The women file out of the room, disappearing behind a curtain. I should follow, but Darius's stare roots me to the spot.

"Hector is dead," he announces, his tone devoid of empathy. "Sandra, hurry. My brain is starting to freeze." Sandra rushes to light his cigar, her hands trembling. "Thanks. Now, where the hell is Thessa?"

The woman in charge of the girls. But why is he looking for her? And why isn't anyone questioning the fact that Hector is dead?

"She's running an errand for you, sir," Sandra answers, clearly petrified.

"Hm… You may leave." Darius's gaze turns to me, colder than ever. "Now, why are you wearing my jewelry on this… mess?"

I open my mouth, but no sound comes out. I'm too stunned by his gaze to form an excuse. "It didn't fit," I blurt out.

He looks confused. "Didn't fit?"

I nod and swallow hard.

"Darius, maybe we should focus on Hector's death. Who killed him? And why…?" Rob suggests, trying to steer the conversation away from me.

"Who killed him?" Darius repeats, his eyes never leaving mine. "I killed him. Can we get back to the girl now? I don't like being disobeyed, my lovely kitten. And as for Hector, he double-crossed me. He disobeyed me by doing business with some new group trying to steal our clients. So I shot him in the head." A small smile flickers across his lips, and I know his words are meant for me. I can feel my thighs clenching, trying to suppress the urge to run or worse, scream.

"Serves him right then. But what do we do with Frank's offspring?" Rob asks, completely unfazed by the casual mention of murder.

Darius's gaze bears down on me, the weight of the world in his stare. "So, darling, what do you have for us?"

"No… nothing," I mumble, stepping back, my mind racing for a way out.

Darius licks his lips, shaking his head slowly. "She's stubborn. Since she doesn't know what she wants to do, why don't we help her? What would you gentlemen like?"

His gaze strips away my confidence, leaving me vulnerable. The knife in my pants gives me a false sense of bravado, but deep down, I know it won't save me.

"Strip…"

"A lap dance…"

"A kiss…"

"A blowjob…"

"I'd like to fuck her brains out," Rob adds, his words sending a jolt of fear through me. I stagger back, my spine pressing against the door, my heart hammering in my chest.

Darius closes his eyes, blocking out the vulgar requests, his lips a thin line of tension. "Shut the hell up, all of you…" His voice is calm, yet commanding. His eyes snap open, locking onto me. "You'll do exactly what the men want."

Not a chance. Hell would freeze over before I'd succumb to this madness. "I… I'm on my period," I stammer, desperate.

Darius raises an eyebrow. "Rebecca didn't mention that this morning. She'd have told me. So, you're lying."

Rebecca. Thessa. Zain. Too many watchful eyes.

"It just started," I choke out, knowing how weak my lie sounds.

"Allison, strip!" He barks, his face a mask of fury.

My breathing is erratic, my heartbeat pounding in my ears. It's not just the fear of being seen naked; it's the terror of Darius finding the knife—and the gold dress wrapped around it. He'll kill me, just like Hector. My offense is far worse.

I shrug off my jacket and stop. "I like girls." The words spill out before I can stop them. What am I saying? Why am I babbling about my sexuality now? No one asked! I want to bang my head against the wall, but Darius doesn't give me the chance. He leaps from his seat and is in front of me in a heartbeat, his irritation palpable.

"You'll forgive me later baby. You talk too much..." And before I can say Jack Robbins, he grabs the collar of my shirt with both hands, about to tear it, when my hand instinctively reach for my hips, pulling the knife with a force that instantly causes Darius to bounce on his heels, taking a full stride backwards with his hands up in surrender and his lips parted in surprise.

"Get the fuck away from me, Darius Hunter."