55. Vesper #2
But the brothels in Dross still felt somehow like the girls had some semblance of control. I’ve known many women and men who worked in a brothel to get their feet under them and then moved on to other things. It doesn’t feel like that’s an option here.
“You said it’s not consensual,” I murmur to Havoc, meeting his eyes.
He nods. “The working girls wear collars to nullify their Glitch abilities.”
“Like the one the Rat Queen put on Locke?”
“Exactly,” Havoc agrees. “This safehouse used to just be a shitty hotel, but when Madam Polly moved in and turned it into the Disorderly hotel, it changed forever. The working girls are just players who trusted a little too easily, who found their way to this safehouse by chance and couldn’t ever leave. ”
“And they can’t leave if they want to?” I ask, anger growing in my chest. “They’re prisoners?”
“They cannot leave unless Madam Polly lets them,” Havoc answers. “And in the decade I’ve been here, I’ve never known her to. The girls who end up here, die here.”
My fingers clench so tight, my bones in my hand pop. But I’m not prepared for the utter calmness I find on Locke’s face. He’s staring at the matching brand all the women seem to have burned into their skin on their hip, his face tracing over each girl in the room, picking them out.
“We can’t remove the collars,” I growl.
“No,” Havoc agrees. “And if you commit any act of violence, you’ll be transported into a random part of the Harrow, usually the worse place possible. It’s how Madam Polly has managed to keep this going.”
“How does she get the collars on them without violence?” I ask. “How is collaring them not an act of violence itself?”
Havoc shrugs. “Ask Cipher.”
I don’t have to. He pipes up at the mention of his name.
“My domain is the Harrow, yes, but while I can control NPCs to some extent and direct them, I cannot do the same for players. The woman who has moved into this safehouse and taken it over is a player. All of the women who are trapped here are also female players. As long as she gets the collar around their neck without a fight, the safehouse will not respond, as it is not a violent takeover. She often resorts to the use of drugs dropped into their drinks. I would suggest not accepting any beverage from the waiters.”
“But she’s taking their freewill with force,” I argue.
“Yes, but unfortunately, Madam Polly has found the loophole that allows her to continue her business. While there are two NPCs who are running this safehouse, they are only capable of so much. The first room you passed through is where you will find them. They do not enter this part of the safehouse, as this was intended for players only.”
“You can’t change things?” I ask. “You can’t force her out?”
“No,” Cipher admits. “I am not whole enough to cause change.”
My brows furrow. “Whole enough? What does that mean?”
But our conversation is interrupted by the sight of a new woman appearing from a doorway.
While all the women in the room are in various stages of undress, this woman is not.
She wears an extravagant, sparkly dress and the white fur of some sort of animal wrapped around her shoulders.
She’s smoking a tobacco stick as she walks in and studies the room.
When her eyes land on us, a wicked smile pulls at her expertly painted lips.
“Welcome to my Disorderly Hotel, players!” she gushes as she strides toward us.
“Havoc,” she purrs as she focuses on him first. “It’s wonderful to see you again.
Still grumpy, I see.” She reaches out and tries to touch Havoc, but he takes a step back.
“Oh, extra grumpy,” she coos, and then focuses on me. “Have you brought me a new girl?”
I narrow my eyes on her, my nails digging into my palm to keep from decking this woman right in that pretty face.
“No, Polly,” Havoc says. “We’re here for a room and food. Nothing more.”
She pouts out her lip. “You won’t be partaking this time—”
“No,” Havoc growls, cutting her off.
But I’d heard the words. I cut my eyes sharply to Havoc who has the foresight to wipe his expression clean.
Polly hums and turns her gaze to Locke. Her eyes latch onto the barcode tattoo on his face and she flashes her teeth at him. “Are you here to taste what it’s like on the other side, player?”
Locke remains calm, but I see the tick of a muscle in his jaw. “Maybe I am,” he says. His words are even, but they’re perfectly picked. “Maybe I’m interested in what it takes to get a night with you instead.”
My chest tightens, but I keep my expression wiped clean. I don’t own Locke. We’re not together. He can do whatever he wants.
“What the fuck is he doing?” Svetlana hisses, offended for me.
But it’s not like we’re a thing. We haven’t even kissed. It’s silly to feel like I have some sort of claim on the man.
Polly giggles at his words. “We have plenty of working girls—”
“I don’t want them,” he says, his expression blank. “I want you.”
She flushes and then seems to hesitate.
“He’s a Bone Breaker,” Havoc whispers to me. “His charisma has dropped. He’s going to have to work harder if he wants to do this.”
My brows furrow and I glance at Havoc, confused. “Do what?”
Locke steps closer to her. “Come on,” he murmurs, his voice like gravel. It makes my uterus sit up at attention, surely it will work on her. “I can show you a good time. Not like these assholes in this joint.”
“These assholes pay me coin,” she replies, fluttering her eyelashes.
Locke’s lips curl. “So, it’s coin you’d like in exchange for fucking me?”
My chest squeezes tighter now and I want desperately to get away, but I keep my feet planted. Havoc had implied this is all some sort of plan . . .
“I’m not a working girl,” Polly purrs. “I’m a businesswoman.”
Locke runs a finger along the fur wrapped around her shoulders. “What if the legend joined in?” Polly’s eyes jerk to Havoc and Locke chuckles darkly. “Oh, I see you’ve already tried that. What would you say if I said I could make that happen?”
“What influence you have,” Polly breathes, and then her eyes trail to me. “What about her?”
“Would you like her to join, too?” Locke purrs. “She can lower herself to her knees before you while the two of us pleasure you. Or she can just watch her men fuck you. Which would you prefer?”
Her men. My heart kicks in my chest so violently, I wonder how the safehouse doesn’t throw me out.
Locke is playing a game, a very similar game to the one we’d played with Stryker back in the Verdant Nexus.
I see that now. Havoc and Cipher both said that they couldn’t do anything about this place, and here is Locke, finding the loophole. And I’m here to play along.
I’ve never been very sensual. I’ve got too much attitude to care about seducing someone, but I’m not incapable of it.
“Which option will it be, Polly?” I purr, meeting her pretty blue eyes as I stalk forward.
I circle her, trailing my hand along her waist, before leaning in from behind to whisper in her ear.
“Would you like me to taste you?” My nails stroke her wrist and trail up her arm.
“Or would you like me to be the cuck, sitting in the corner while they make you scream?”
Her breath rattles out of her chest and I know we have her. How easy this became the moment we started working together.
“I have work to do,” she says.
“Come on, Polly,” Locke purrs. “Are you sure you want to pass up this opportunity?”
She pauses, and her eyes flick back to Havoc where he stands with his arms crossed, his expression unchanging as he watches our exchange. There’s something in his eyes, though, something feral. I kind of like it.
Polly tenses as my hands trail down her arm again and back up. “Come on, Polly,” I purr. “You can have us any way you want. Surely, the Madam of the Disorderly Hotel deserves some fun, too.”
She glances over her shoulder at me and then looks between Locke and Havoc again. She completely passes over Stevie where he hovers behind us, ignoring him as if he isn’t even there.
“Okay,” she says suddenly, and whirls to face me. “But you’re the cuck.” She leans in and runs a perfectly painted nail down my cheek. “I’m going to do things to them that’s going to make you cry, player.”
Ah. So, she’s that kind of woman.
“You’d have to hurt them to make me cry,” I tell her. “And this is a safehouse. No violence, remember?”
Polly grins. “Oh, I have my ways.” She starts to walk toward the open room. “Should we grab a booth?”
“We need privacy,” Locke purrs. “The legend is shy.”
Polly looks over at Havoc again with hungry eyes. “My rooms it is then. Come along.”
I meet Locke’s gaze and he nods the barest amount. I understand the plan now. We’re playing a different game right now, and I’m fucking willing. Whatever it takes. I cast one last look at all the unwilling working girls before I follow after the madam.
Polly leads us through the safehouse and into a doorway off to the side. At first, all we see are doors, but before we can look at them any closer, Polly leads us toward the stairs. She goes to take the first step, but Locke rushes forward, playing the part.
“Allow me,” he groans, gesturing for her to move closer to him. Then he sweeps her up into his arms and starts to climb. “How high are we going?”
“To the top,” she says, giggling and wrapping her arms around Locke. She meets my eyes as she strokes her fingers through Locke’s hair and I look right back. The urge to chop off that fucking hand is strong, and I think she knows that. “The penthouse is all me.”
“What is this?” Svetlana hisses. “Fucking Cinderella? He should be carrying us!”