Chapter 68
BELLA
The bass from the club vibrates through my ribs as I step through the crowd, every beat syncing with the hammer in my chest. The air smells like liquor, sweat, and something metallic—fear maybe. Or maybe that’s just mine.
I keep my chin high as I approach the bar, scanning the room.
“Can I help you, sweetheart?” the bartender asks, his eyes skimming down my dress.
“Yes.” I lean in just enough for him to notice. “I’m here to see Madame Eve.”
The music doesn’t even drown out how fast everything changes.
His eyes flick up. He straightens, taps twice on the bar, and two men appear from nowhere. They’re scary, but not as frightening as my men would be.
“Come with us,” one of them says.
I school my features calmly, even as my stomach lurches. I follow them past the VIP rope, down a narrow hallway that smells like bleach.
When they shove me into a back room, the music dulls into a muffled hum. The lights are low, the walls bare except for a single camera blinking red in the corner.
“How do you know that name?” one of them demands.
I clasp my hands together in front of me, pretending to tremble just enough to look harmless. “Someone told me she might be hiring.”
“Bullshit.” He steps closer.
Before I can answer, a soft British voice cuts through the tension.
“That’s enough.”
The men freeze instantly.
And then she appears.
Madame Eve glides through the doorway. She’s elegant, every inch of her dripping with money and menace. Her hair is a sleek wave of dark blonde, her lips painted the kind of red only villains wear.
“Leave us,” she says.
The guards exchange a look but obey, stepping out and closing the door behind them.
She studies me in silence for a beat too long, head tilted, a small amused smile curling her lips.
“So…” she says softly. “You’re looking for me.”
I swallow. “Yes. I heard you’re the best at what you do. I was hoping to find work.”
“Work,” she repeats, eyes flicking over me. “And what exactly is it that you do, darling?”
I lift my chin, matching her stare. “Whatever it takes to earn your trust.”
Her smile widens, sharp and knowing. “Oh, I do love ambition. You’ve come a long way, dear.”
I shrug. “I had no other choice but to run. And I’ve been told you’re the only one who might be able to save me.”
That’s how cults work. The premise of saving. That I’m weak and easy to manipulate into who they want me to be. Believe their bullshit.
She gestures to a velvet chair in front of the desk.
“Sit. Let’s see if you’re worth my time.”