Chapter Twenty-Six
Erin
The week has been weirdly…calm. No stalker in the lunchroom, no moody Matteo glaring at me from his desk, no possessive behavior, no heated arguments. In fact, I’ve barely seen him at all. And that is unsettling.
Matteo vanishing from my orbit should feel like freedom, but instead it feels like the silence before a storm. Each passing hour without seeing him intensifies the tension coiling around me until I am ready to jump out of my skin.
However, I’ve used the sudden reprieve to focus on something far more important—digging deeper into that secret message.
The one I haven’t told Matteo about. Someone messaged Geryon from inside this building, and I am going to unmask them.
So I threw myself into the hunt, ripping apart code, combing through network servers, and cross-referencing connection logs and surveillance camera footage until my eyes burned.
The message had been sent on a Friday night at ten-o-four p.m. From somewhere in this building.
At that hour, the only areas in the building still active are the club in the underground and the restaurant on the ground floor. The restaurant isn’t exactly discreet for exchanging sensitive information, which leaves the club.
So here I am, in the locker room of the gym on the second floor of The Bastion on a Friday night, looking at myself in the mirror and wondering why the hell I am doing this.
Maybe the red dress is a bit too bold, but it’s too late to turn back now.
I smooth the fabric over my hips, square my shoulders, and take one last look at my reflection before stepping out of the showers.
You can do this .
Matteo’s absence has also given me time to dig into the Second Circle’s internal server, Pandemonium.
The firewalls are unyielding, airtight fortresses of code, but not for someone who knows how to slip through from the inside.
The client list was…interesting, but not the revelation I’d hoped for.
No client flagged as ‘Potential Bad Guy’. Too bad .
Still, I made it count. I hacked my way in to activate a membership for myself. Tonight, I’m going to see what secrets Second Circle is hiding.
I slip into the elevator, heart racing. I scan my palm, and sure enough, ‘Hell’ has been added to my available destinations in the building.
Here goes nothing .
I tap on it, the elevator doors close and the engines hum to life. Yes!
When the doors open again, I am standing in what looks like the entry of a cathedral.
High black marble pillars frame an enormous double door made of black glass.
A door-person is standing on each side, unmoving and unblinking like statues.
I gingerly move out of the elevator, trying to look like I fit in.
I walk inside and find myself in an extravagant lobby, all red velvet and black wood. A hostess is smiling at me from behind a large mahogany reception desk, and I step up with a faked confidence and a smile that feels a little too bright.
“Good evening, how may we be of service tonight?” she asks, voice warm but professional.
“Good evening, I…uh, joined very recently and…um…” My words trip over each other, and I want to slam my forehead on the desk. Smooth, Erin. Really smooth .
Her smile widens, as if she’s used to nervous first-timers. “Of course. Welcome. Let me assist you with your first entrance.”
Relief floods through me, and I nod eagerly. “Thanks.”
“May I have your ID, please?”
I hand it over, trying not to fidget while she scans it.
“Welcome, Ms. Skye. The next time you visit, you’ll only need to show your ID at the front desk for clearance.”
I nod again, my fake confidence fizzling thinner by the second.
She turns around to retrieve a dark wooden box from a shelf behind her and places it in front of me. It is about the size of a large jewelry box. She lifts the lid to reveal four metal bangles, each enameled in white, blue, purple or red.
She looks at me expectantly.
Oookay. What now?
“You have read our club rules, haven’t you?”
“Of course,” I lie with the brightest smile I can muster. I mean… I skimmed them. A little. Maybe. Not at all… I groan inwardly.
Her expression doesn’t change, but I swear her eyes are laughing at me. “Then, which color would you like tonight?”
I glance down at the bangles, as if they hold the answer. “Uh…the red one.” It’ll match my dress, right?
She picks out the bracelet, snaps it open and motions to my wrist. I extend it, and she clasps it on with what feels like finality.
“There we are,” she says smoothly, pressing a discreet button under the desk. With a soft hiss, the heavy security door at the back swishes open, revealing a darkened hallway lit with a faint, moody glow.
Underworld, here I come .
I step inside, not really knowing what to expect.
And at first glance, it all looks…pretty tame.
Elegant, even. The space opens into a vast lounge with an expansive bar as its centerpiece.
The polished surface glows under the soft amber lights.
Clusters of people sit on tall stools and in plush booths, their low voices blending with the slow, sultry rhythm spilling from hidden speakers.
The lighting is dim and cozy, casting everything in warm shadows that feel both inviting and secretive.
It’s the kind of lounge bar where someone can come just to unwind with an expensive cocktail, or to sink into something much darker.
My gaze drifts to the far end of the room, where a stage commands attention.
Half a dozen figures are moving there, dancing, though I’m not sure that is the right word.
Their bodies writhe and twist with a liquid, hypnotic flow, every movement languid and suggestive without crossing into anything overtly sexual.
It is sensual in a way that makes my pulse pick up, and I feel heat creep up my neck despite myself.
I square my shoulders and head toward the bar, forcing my focus back on why I’m here. This might be the best place to start. I have no idea how I will unmask the villain, but I’ll just keep my eyes open for any suspicious behavior.
“Good evening, what may I get you?” the barman greets me.
“Hi, can I have a margarita, please?” I say, opting for the comfort of something familiar as I slide onto the stool.
He returns a minute later, setting a beautifully cut glass in front of me. But then he also places a sleek black box on the bar and slides it my way. I glance up, puzzled.
“Your bracelet,” he explains patiently. “It’s chipped. Simply scan it here and your tab will be automatically added to your account.”
Oh…that’s genius. My admiration for Matteo hikes up another notch. Nope, Erin, don’t think about him!
I lift my wrist, but before I can sweep it over the device, a hand appears in my line of sight and waves a large red ring over the scanner. The device blinks green.
“Let me take care of that drink,” a smooth, low voice says beside me.
I blink and look up, startled. A man is standing a few inches away, close enough that his hip nearly brushes mine.
He is dressed in a perfectly tailored black suit and open white shirt, no tie.
He looks to be around mid-thirties, and he is unfairly handsome, his presence radiating money and confidence.
I realize I’m staring because he chuckles, extending a hand. “Arthur.”
“Um…” My brain freezes for a second. “Am I supposed to give my real name?” I cringe as the words leave my mouth.
Arthur throws his head back with a laugh that draws a glance or two from nearby patrons.
When he recovers, there’s still amusement glittering in his eyes as he takes the stool next to mine.
“Sweetheart, you can give any name you want. The one that’ll matter is the one I’ll give you.” He winks, and suddenly my face feels too hot.
I duck my head, flustered, and murmur, “Uh…Rin. Thanks for the drink.”
Arthur studies me for a beat, eyes sharp despite his easy smile. “Don’t tell me you’re a virgin?”
I nearly choke on my drink. “Wh-what? No, I—”
“Relax,” he drawls, gesturing toward the club with a lazy wave. “I meant here. First time?”
“Oh.” I wince. “Is it that obvious?”
Something dark flickers in his gaze, gone as quickly as it came. “A little. But don’t be nervous, sweetheart.” He aims his panty-dropping smile at me, but all it does is give me the chills.
The mission, I need to get to work .
The plan had been simple. Sneak in, spot the meanest-looking guy, commit his face to memory for cross-check with the client list, slip out. Easy-peasy.
This is a complication I have not planned for. I guzzle down half of my glass and set it back on the bar.
“Well, Arthur, it was nice meeting you. I have to get going now. Thanks again for the drink.” I slide down from the stool, prepared to sidestep him and go looking for suspicious-looking criminals, when his hard hand clamps around my wrist.
“Where do you think you’re going, sweetheart?” Arthur hisses into my ear, his breath hot and sour. He slides off his stool to stand, towering over me like a mountain.
I gape up at him in shock, suddenly feeling small and vulnerable without the height of the stool. “I told you, I need to go. Let go of me,” I declare in a tone I hope sounds firm and not afraid.
“I don’t think so, Rin ,” he sneers down at me, hand still clasped around my wrist like a vise. “You are mine for tonight. And judging from this”— he holds up my wrist, showing me the bracelet—“you are giving yourself fully over to me.”
“What? No!” I cry out. “There’s a misunderstanding, I’ve never—”
“If you don’t release her right now, you’ll be leaving here one limb at a time,” a cold voice barks sharply from behind us.
I freeze.
Shit, could things get any worse ?
Arthur, or whatever his name is, doesn’t let go, though. Instead, he turns around with an annoyed huff. “Man, I’ve seen her first. Leave us—”
Before he can finish his sentence, Matteo has wrapped his hand around the man’s throat, lifting him up in the air.
The tendons in his forearm are standing out like cables.
Arthur chokes, his eyes going wide, bulging as Matteo squeezes.
I yank my wrist free, stumbling back, dread crashing over me like ice water.
Matteo looks ready to kill the man, and his voice is a low, dangerous snarl.
“One,” he growls, his voice low and lethal, “you just broke this club’s first and last rule—free consent.
Consider your membership void. Two”— he yanks Arthur closer, his face inches away—“this woman. Is. Mine. And three…” His voice drops to a guttural snarl that makes my knees weak.
“If I ever see your face again, you’ll be buried so deep not even hell will find you. Do I make myself clear?”
Arthur croaks out a terrified “Yes!” or at least I think that’s what it was, because Matteo shoves him back so hard he crashes to the floor, landing on his ass.
Arthur’s face is ashen, his terror so raw it almost makes me pity him. Almost. “I-I didn’t know. I’m sorry, Sir, I—”
“Out!” Matteo bellows. The single word is like a whipcrack, and Arthur scrambles away, nearly tripping over himself in his hurry to flee.
I blink, watching him run. Then gulp.
Time to face the devil.
Matteo is glaring down at me, eyes blazing with red-hot fury. My heart is hammering against my ribs. “Matteo, I-I can explain…”
He doesn’t reply. He grabs my hand and yanks me forward as he begins to walk away, pulling me along.
I feel a deep, deadly terror claw at my throat.
I can’t fight him, can’t escape his possessive hold.
People stare but no one dares to intervene to save me.
And so I’m dragged, helpless and trembling, straight into the belly of hell by the lord of the underworld himself.