Chapter 52
CADE
Ditmas Park, Brooklyn
The mansion looks untouched. Like someone packed a suitcase and vanished. Perched on a wide, tree-lined street in Ditmas Park, the house is stately and pristine—fresh paint, manicured hedges, iron gate still working.
“This place just foreclosed a couple weeks ago,” Knox mutters from the van, fingers flying over the keyboard. “Bank never even changed the locks.”
He zooms in on a floor plan glowing across the screens. A four-story Victorian dream turned nightmare. Still fully furnished. Perfect cover.
“Tex is in position,” Knox says, tone clipped. “Laing, Bella, you’re clear to enter. Remember, Krolek thinks this is his chance to move up in the world. He’s looking to supply your clubs, so play it smooth.”
Nate chimes in, “Bella, make it clear you’re asking for a sample of the girls. We still don’t know where he’s keeping them, so don’t pull the trigger unless you have eyes.”
Knox exhales into the mic, the calm before the storm. “Keep it sexy. Convincing.”
We’re watching from the van parked three houses down, hidden under a veil of shadows and outdated neighborhood neglect. Lex leans forward in his seat, jaw tight, eyes locked on the tablet like he could burn a hole straight through the screen.
“I fucking hate this part of the job,” he growls, voice low and strained. “It’s bullshit that I couldn’t go in there with her but Mortal Fucking Kombat can. I swear to God if Dragon-Dick so much as—”
“Drop it Lex,” Nate pipes up, clearly annoyed with our presence.
“Did you just say Dragon-Dick?” Knox laughs.
“If the name fucking fits.”
“They’re in,” Nate says, completely ignoring Lex and Knox’s banter.
In the weeks I was gone, Lex didn’t just stick around. He carved out a place in Bella’s world like he’d always belonged there. Like he was built for it.
He’s practically part of The Trifecta family now.
Ellie and Haley laugh at his jokes like he’s always been in the group.
Knox calls him ride or die. Coach Javi trusts him with lighting cues and drills.
Rico even tosses him fabric swatches for costume input.
The crowds love him. The girls love him more.
And Bella? She looks at him like he’s gravity.
But what kills me most is that he’s been on multiple Project Dylan missions. Missions where he got to see her at her fiercest. Not just dancing or teasing or breaking hearts, but burning the whole world down to save the innocent. Leading. Commanding. Conquering.
He watched her walk through hell and drag light out of it.
And I missed it. I missed her. The real her. The one who doesn’t flinch. The one who carries scars and still fights like the world’s worth saving.
Lex got to stand in the glow. He got to hold that flame.
I look at the screen, Bella and Laing are in the entry way of the mansion.
She’s breathtaking. Her dress is sculpted elegance and danger sewn in black satin.
Strapless with a slit that cuts nearly to her hip.
It fits like it was poured onto her. The fabric catches the soft hallway light and turns it into something sinful—shadows and shine tracing the curves of her body with every step. A damn weapon dressed for war.
Laing’s right beside her, looking just as sharp. Sleek dark suit, perfectly tailored, no tie, and shirt unbuttoned just enough to flash that damn dragon tattoo on his chest like he’s proud of it. And he should be, I guess. The guy’s infuriatingly good-looking.
And yet all I see are his fingers anchored to the small of her back, pressing just a little too low. Too territorial and intimate. Like he’s earned the right to touch her like that.
He hasn’t.
I can appreciate a beautiful man. I’m an artist, I get it. But the second he forgets where he stands, I’ll happily remind him.
Lex mutters beside me. “Fucking Mortal Kombat-ass prick.”
Knox glances up from the screens. “You good?”
“No,” Lex growls. “He touches her like that again, I swear to God—”
“Not the time,” I cut in. But my voice is tight as well, because it’s not just Lex losing his composure. Being forced to watch the woman we love play pretend in a way that makes my skin crawl is almost enough to make me lose mine too.
She approaches the man at the center of it all, Krolek. Tall, late fifties, slick gray suit and a shark smile. He’s holding a glass of something expensive, surrounded by men who look just like him. All masks and monsters.
“Please,” Krolek gestures to the leather chairs next to him. “Sit.”
Laing drops into one of the oversized armchairs and pulls Bella down onto his lap like it’s her rightful place. My stomach twists.
Krolek leans forward, swirling his drink with lazy curiosity. “Laing Wei. All the way from Hong Kong. Now how the hell did you manage to land a piece of ass like this for a wife?”
Laing gives a modest shrug and runs his hand up Bella’s bare thigh, squeezing as he gets to the top of the slit in her dress. “I just got lucky,” he says. “But truth is, she found me in one of her clubs in San Francisco.”
Lex stiffens beside me.
Laing continues, his tone smooth, casual, and way too damn convincing. “One of her girls was giving me a dance, but I couldn’t keep my eyes off her. This sexy thing was over there at the bar drinking with some Russian prick.”
Lex’s fists slam against his thighs. “Motherf—”
Knox elbows him hard. “Cut it out. It’s part of the plan. Krolek’s Polish, he hates Russians. That line just bought us credibility. It’s not a pissing contest.”
Bella laughs softly, tilting her head toward him like it’s a fond memory. “Baby, I’ve told you a million times. It was just business.”
“Business or not, he was touching what I wanted and I couldn’t have it.
” Laing slides his hand up her back and curls his fingers into the back of her neck, dragging her down to him and kisses her.
Not a peck. A full-on, open-mouthed, possessive-as-hell kiss that sends Lex surging up in his seat like he’s ready to tear through the van wall.
“Don’t,” I warn, grabbing his arm.
“I will kill him,” he growls. “I will fucking kill him.”
Back inside, Bella finally pulls back, her lips still parted, gaze lazy and dangerous. “We’re absolutely crazy for each other,” she purrs as her hand trails across Laing’s chest.
Lex looks like he’s about to have an aneurysm burst.
“After San Francisco, we expanded. Three exclusive clubs right here in the city. All of them discreet, profitable, and dripping in indulgence.”
She smiles, slow and sinful, the kind that melts resistance and commands attention.
“Think of The Obsidian… only with better dancers, higher stakes, and pleasures most men don’t even know they need, until we show them.”
Laing’s hand slides up and down her thigh. He leans in, mouth brushing her ear. “That’s right, baby,” his voice low and filled with heat. “They come once and then they always come back for more.”
Bella laughs and tilts her head, giving him access to her throat. He takes it, lips brushing her neck in a way that feels far too real for comfort. My fists tighten and the pressure in my jaw I swear could cut diamonds.
She leans toward Krolek, just enough for him to get a perfect view down her dress. “We’re hosting a private party for our most elite clients next month. All we’re missing…” Her lips part, voice sultry and dangerous, “…are the right girls.”
She doesn’t sound like Bella. She sounds like the woman monsters trust.
Over the comms, Tex’s voice crackles in, amused. “It’s working. I can see the fucker’s dick getting hard from here. She’s almost got him.”
Lex mutters from beside me, voice low and clipped, “God I hate this fucking van.”
I glance over, then back at the screen. “She’s got this,” I say tightly, though it’s more for my own reassurance than his. Because right now, I don’t know what’s worse. Watching Bella become someone so terrifyingly seductive or knowing her and Laing play this part a little too well.
“I can get you the girls,” Krolek says, his Polish accent curling around every word. “You tell me what you like. Age. Look. Temperament. I will make it happen. Quickly.”
Laing nods, smooth as ever. “Perfect.” He leans back, smile slow and sharp. “We are, however, looking for a very specific flavor.”
He glances at Bella, eyes gleaming. “My lovely bride here has high standards for our clubs. Before we make any kind of commitment, she’ll need a little preview. A sample. Just to make sure the product matches the price.”
“Ah, of course. I understand completely.”
He turns, barking something in Polish to the man near the door. The command is short, clipped, and efficient. The man nods once, then mutters into a walkie.
A minute passes before the far door creaks open.
Five girls step in. They can’t be older than nineteen.
Most are probably closer to sixteen. All of them are dressed like they’ve been shoved through a glam factory—cocktail dresses, sky-high stilettos, glossy curls and makeup applied to hide the fear in their faces.
But it’s still there. In the eyes. Hollow. Haunted.
They line up like inventory.
Krolek gestures toward them with a grand sweep of his hand. “Please. Inspect.”
Bella stands, slow and elegant. Laing joins her. Together they walk the line, her hand brushing his chest like they’re at some sick designer showcase.
“What the hell is going on?” I whisper.
“She’s inspecting them,” Knox replies. “Making sure they fit her brand. She’s not Bella right now, Cade. She’s a goddamn madame.”
Bella pauses halfway down the row. Turns to Laing. “Sit.”
He drops back into his seat without a word.
“Good boy.” She winks, which earns her a chuckle out of Krolek.
She turns to a tall brunette in a hot pink dress. “You. Come here.”
The girl hesitates. Eyes flick to Bella, then Laing, then to Krolek. Her lip trembles.
She doesn’t move. So, Bella does instead.
SMACK.
The slap echoes through the mansion. Gasps fill the van.
“Keep it cool,” Knox growls. “It’s all part of the plan. She has to sell it.”