Chapter 30
The purple light bathed the room as I returned to my routine, alternating between working the pole and serving drinks, both in the regular area and the VIP section.
When I stepped in, the room felt emptier than before.
Word had spread that many of the girls had left because of Ethan's management.
It hadn't even been a month, and already the exodus had begun.
Some girls had left under Cloney's leadership too, but the difference wasn't nearly as obvious in the dressing room back then.
I found a seat at the bar, waiting for the orders from upstairs. "I haven't seen you in two days. Where've you been?" the bartender asked. I still didn't know his name, only recognizing him by his dirty blonde hair and knack for expertly serving liquor.
"I had a little incident, so I was home recovering."
"I honestly missed you," he said with a smirk, his hands moving deftly as he arranged shots and glasses on a tray, not a single drop spilled.
I offered an awkward smile as he glanced back at me. "Thanks."
"I think these are for the booth in the back," he added. "And welcome back." He leaned in slightly, his smirk widening.
"Thanks." I grabbed the tray and slipped into the crowd, making my way up the stairs toward the booth he'd mentioned. The dim lighting became thicker as I reached the back. I noticed the drinks were straight liquor— a clear sign there was a human present.
Vampires never drank regular alcohol; it was like water to them. They required something stronger, or better yet, liquor laced with blood.
I rolled my eyes as I spotted Jager's face at the end of the semi-oval booth. Seated beside her was a man. As I approached, I couldn't help but smile when I recognized Cloney's thinning, aging hair. What was he doing here? He smiled and gave a little wave.
I nodded in acknowledgment, aware that both Wade and Jager's eyes were fixed on me as I set the tray down and began serving everyone—except Cloney—blood wine and Spitfire shots. I often served other mixtures of blood wine, but it seemed Wade and Jager never changed their preferences.
I couldn't help but wonder what they were discussing with him. Cloney's expression gave little away, but he seemed comfortable, sitting between two powerful women.
"How are you?" Cloney asked.
I tucked the tray under my arm, trying to steady my voice. "I've been good," I replied, though I felt a little nervous, especially with Wade's eyes practically smoldering into my skin.
"How are you?" I asked, keeping the conversation short, hoping to make my escape. Cloney and I had too much history. After three years of working here, he had been so many things to me. I just wished he had confided in me before his departure.
"I've been seeing some good days," he replied his smile faint, as the skin of the women beside him.
"Glad to—"
"Could you get some more blood wine and shots? I need it to wash down my meal," Wade's voice cut me off, rough and commanding, leaving no room for a response.
"Of course," I replied, my eyes flicking toward Jager, who always seemed calmer. I turned, aware of the intense gaze of all three pairs of eyes on me. What were they up to? I wondered as I headed back down the stairs. Maybe I should let them sort it out while I took a moment to recollect myself.
I watched Wade's every move. Back in Iceland, she was a princess, destined to rule her kingdom with grace, justice, and honor. Strength ran through her bones, but so did an unshakable poise. Yet, as her only friend, I had witnessed that poise die.
Piece by piece, I had seen parts of her wither away, leaving behind only a cold, ruthless killer. Tonight, Cloney was going to die—right here in this booth. I smirked, watching him savor his last shot and sip. He had no idea his time was up, all because he dared to speak to her.
Wade sat quietly, sipping her shot, letting it burn as if fueling the anger already simmering inside her. She embodied both darkness and night—neither the opposite of the other, both creeping up silently, wrapping you in fear.
"Enjoying your retirement... and the money?" I asked.
"I was, until you called, talking about some gang."
"Street gang. The Chapo's—ring any bells?" I pressed. Street gangs were as common in Vegas as the clubs and casinos.
"Never heard of them. I swear. I don't deal with street gangs. The club was paid off—sure, it was behind on the electricity."
"Two million dollars, to be exact," Wade muttered, her voice rough has beard.
"Yeah, and I mentioned that in the sale description," he replied, elaborating defensively.
I saw Snow Bunny approaching with a tray full of drinks. Cloney's eyes followed her, too. She set the tray down. "Anything else?" Her breath was quick, and I could tell her neck was healing nicely.
"More wine and shots," Wade ordered.
She rolled her eyes. "Got it," she huffed, tucking the tray under her arm as she walked away.
"I see you got rid of the other workers and kept Snow Bunny—the best one," Cloney remarked, nudging Wade. She was drinking more shots than wine, and the fire in her eyes almost mirrored the burn of the alcohol.
"She gives the best head too. Has she ever tried it on you?" he chuckled. "Best girl to work here—so skillful."
Both Wade and I turned to him, struggling to mask our fury.
"What did you just say?" Wade's voice, sharpened by the liquor, was pure fire and rage.
Cloney laughed, knocking back another shot, but Wade acted swiftly, forcing the shot glass down his throat. "What did you say?" she repeated, looking over at me.
I smirked, taking the chance to fuel the fire. "He said she sucked him off."
Wade's head tilted to the side, her mouth opening wide as she sank her fangs into his neck. His screams were muffled, the shot glass lodged in his throat as blood began to trickle from the corners of his mouth. Wade pushed his head back further, forcing him into submission.
I watched as the blood flowed from his veins into Wade's throat, her growls of satisfaction echoing through the booth. This was what she loved most—killing.
He let out one final cry before his eyes rolled back. His body went stiff, unable to utter a last word as Wade tore through his neck with her fangs. She spat a chunk of his flesh onto the table, the brutal end to his life.
"That's what you get for putting your cock where it doesn't belong," Wade muttered as she released him. His limp body collapsed onto my lap, and I looked down at the lifeless form with a smirk.
"Good job," I praised quietly, brushing his thinning hair away from his aged face. The massive blood loss made him look even older.
"He tasted fucking bitter," Wade grumbled, downing three glasses of blood wine. "Tastes like shit. Too many damn narcotics in his blood."
"Oh my god, what did you guys do to him?" Snow Bunny asked as she gently set the tray down, her eyes widening at the sight of the dead man sprawled across my lap.
"He's dead," Wade mumbled, pouring herself another glass from the tray. "Thanks for this, Snow Bunny. I needed it."
"What do you mean he's dead?" she asked, her voice shaking.
I shrugged, laughing softly.
"There's his skin," Wade added, nodding toward the chunk of flesh she'd spat onto the table.
"What did he do to both of you?" Snow Bunny asked, clearly distressed.
"What he did to us doesn't matter," Wade replied coldly. "It's about what he did to you."
"Cloney didn't do anything—I can't deal with this right now," she huffed with a prickly cracked of her voice as she quickly turned and headed for the stairs. Wade was already on her feet, following her. I shoved the dead man off my lap and hurried after them, not far behind.