Chapter 10
I sat in one of the new booths, sipping wine—the same wine I swore I wouldn't touch.
I wasn't working tonight, not when I wasn't even sure if I'd get paid by the end of the shift.
What was the point? My eyes drifted to the new VIP section, scanning for any sign of the red-eyed bosses responsible for all these drastic and morbid changes.
Cloney... he never ran things like this. He'll be sorely missed. If I don't see those bosses soon, I'll march right down to their office, aftereffects be damned.
The club was stunning, newly renovated, but the management—rotten to the core. The girl from earlier slid into the booth beside me, cash in hand and a spark of excitement lighting up her face.
"Hi, snow bunny."
"Uh... hi."
"It's Shay. We met in the dressing room."
"I know. What do you want?"
"I'm just taking a break and thought I'd come over to count the boss's money."
"That's money you earned. It should be going straight into your pocket," I said.
This club was operating backwards. People wouldn't keep coming if they had to pay just to get in, and I could already tell some of the girls were going to quit once they realized their pay wasn't guaranteed.
I was already in that uncertain place—unsure about my pay, unsure about a lot of things. Unsure about my entire life.
"The boss will pay us with this same money by the end of the night?" she asked.
"Don't you think you'd make a lot more than whatever they're giving you tonight?"
She shrugged lackadaisically, which irritated me. That's the problem with us humans—we keep accepting disrespect from these bloodsucking leeches who need our sweat, blood, and money to survive. God, we're such idiots. I'm sick of us, and maybe we deserve to be sucked dry.
"I'm behind on rent, food, my mother's medical bills. I got kicked out of my corporate job, and a vamp took my place. My lips are parched, and I'd love to have a decent meal," she explained, giving me a glimpse into her life.
Humans are fools. I couldn't even think straight anymore. "You know, I've noticed you've been sitting here for a while."
"I'm not working," I replied, rolling my eyes.
"Why?"
"I'm not sure about my pay, and I need to speak to the real bosses," I declared.
"The real bosses are worse. What makes you think you can talk to them and get any help?"
She wasn't wrong, and fear began to creep in.
But I stayed put, sewing myself to the plush booth.
They were going to listen to me, to my pleas and demands.
If they ignored me, I'd quit—simple as that.
I spoke like I was some indispensable asset, but I believed in standing up for myself, even if it meant bluffing.
"Clearly, you bitches aren't getting paid to sit around." Ethan's bark cut through the air. "Get back to work."
Shay handed him the money, her hands trembling. "I was just counting it," she stammered, fear as plain as a pikestaff. Cloney never made us feel this way.
"How much?"
"Two thousand," she answered, nearly shaking out of her heels.
He grabbed her head, roughly turning it. "Such a good little bitch, huh? Making two grand in an hour." His voice dripped with mockery, like a father who's never truly proud.
"Then why are you still sitting here? Go make more, you little slut. Get that body working." Shay quickly stood, and as she walked off, he slapped her ass.
Ethan turned to me, hands gesturing toward my still-seated form. "What, are you deaf? Every one of the bitches working here should be working."
"I'm not sure about my money, so I won't be working. I'm waiting for the bosses."
For a moment, the purple light reflected a flicker of fear in his eyes, but it quickly vanished. Instead, rage twisted his face as he yanked me into a chokehold, his grip tight and brutal. It was inhumane. My head swelled with pressure, filled with air I couldn't release.
"What are the bosses gonna do?" he sneered, dragging me to the office and slamming the door shut behind us. He threw me toward the desk, where money was already laid out in neat rows. Without thinking, I grabbed a handful and flung it into his face.
"You fucking bitch!" he roared, slapping me hard across the cheek. "You old dogs just don't know how to behave, do you? The bosses vouched for you!" He spat the words, his fingers digging painfully into my forehead.
"And this is the quality you show? This disgusting quality?"
His breath reeked of something foul—spoiled blood—and it made my stomach churn with nausea. "You're the one with disgusting quality. Your behavior is going to destroy this club."
He laughed, unhinged, like a clown just missing the makeup. "This club already has its people. Don't you see the vamps lining up? We stick together, unlike you humans. We support our own."
"Those bloodsuckers? Half of them are just critics, coming here to watch your service fail," I retorted flatly.
"Most of those vamps can't stand filthy little humans like you."
I stormed up to his face, and he took a slight step back, surprised that I could mirror the same aggressive stance he'd been throwing around all night. He'd been in everyone's face, breathing his foul breath and asserting control where it wasn't needed.
Maybe I was an "old dog," used to the old master.
Cloney never had to act bossy—he knew he was in charge.
He didn't need to prove it. We knew we had to give him his cut or walk out the door.
A few of us knew how to play him, myself included.
But Ethan? He acted like someone who had never held a position of power in his life, like a kid who'd never had parents who owned anything.
Most vamps were born wealthy, so why was he behaving like this? I knew the majority of them hated humans. But how could they, when the very blood we produced kept them strong, kept them alive?
I jabbed my fingers into his chest, which felt like metal beneath his suit.
He might have looked weak in that ballooning outfit, clearly borrowed from someone taller and broader—maybe Wade or Jager.
A smirk crept across my face, erasing my original thought as I said, "Did you borrow the bosses' clothes? "
I crossed my arms, eyeing him up and down with disdain.
"What?" he snapped.
"A vamp like you looks starving—poor and grubby. I can't help but wonder if you borrowed the bosses' clothes just to come here and play the role of boss. But a suit doesn't make you one, Ethan. It doesn't suit you." I taunted.
"You fucking human," he snarled, grabbing my arm.
"Is that all you can do—grab me?" I shot back.
"You'll work your stinking ass off tonight and let me pocket your money, or you can get the hell out of my club."
"This is the bosses' club," I growled. "I'm waiting for them, and I have every right to speak with them."
"Rights!" he shouted, his breath hot against my face, causing my heart to race. I was uncertain if it was his breath or fear that tightened my chest. "Human rights are dying! Don't you see? Your population is shrinking. It was eight billion of you, and now it's down to five billion!"
"And when we're gone, let's see how you survive," I replied, my voice unfaltering. "Let's see how money ends up in your borrowed suit pockets. You better fucking respect us humans."
"You want respect? Why don't you get your whoring ass out there, bring me my damn money, and maybe then you'll get paid—if I feel like giving it to you," he sneered.
"No!" I growled in response.
"Then crawl your fucking ass out of my club. You think I'm going to force you to work? Look at all the hot bitches out there." He laughed. "You even look paler than me. Are you sure you're not a bloodsucker? Or maybe it's just Cloney's cum drowning you."
"Are you jealous that he has a bigger cock than you?"
"That's the problem with you humans—you're always worried about the wrong things. Do I look like I give a fuck if Cloney's cock is bigger than mine?"
"You sound bothered," I thunderclap back.
"Alright, enough talking." He growled, grabbing me and dragging me toward the entrance. I fought against the pull, determined not to go outside.
"I want to speak with the bosses."
"They wouldn't want to talk to you. They keep you around out of pity. I'd be happy to tell them I got rid of you because you're just a bitch who doesn't want to rake in any dough."
It was his vamp strength against my human resilience as he hauled me out. My heel crunched under the pressure, leaving me no time to brace for the fall I was about to take. My hands flailed desperately, reaching for anything to grab onto.
Just in time, strong arms enveloped me, catching me in their embrace.
I exhaled in relief, quickly assessing if any part of me was injured before looking up to thank my savior.
But it wasn't a stranger's face that greeted me; it was Wade Lefleur—the Icelandic princess, the silent boss, the greedy bloodsucker who had drained half my squirt down.
Just the person I didn't/did want to see.
I sprang from her arms, glaring at her with despisement.
I snapt while she looked at me, puzzled.
"You fucking bloodsuckers!" I growled, taking a step back, only to find myself stumbling into another embrace.
My hand instinctively reached up without looking around, and it felt familiar. It was Jager.
she held my hand firmly, preventing me from wandering over to Wade's liquor bottle-like body. "What's going on here, snow bunny?" She asked.