4. Ember
Ember
After his meeting, Atlas came back with a lot of information for us to cover.
We discussed new inventory coming, the seasonal hours, and the possibility of hosting up-and-coming authors.
Even though it always involved work, our conversations amused me.
He was the type of person that started with one topic and ended on a totally different one.
As the hours passed, the discussion fell away and he became more of a body double, sinking into his chair as I shuffled around helping customers.
After waiting for me to finish ringing up one of our regulars, he called to me from across the room. “Want me to grab some dinner, and I’ll close with you tonight? That one Chinese place you like has a deal if I order in the next thirty minutes.”
Normally, I would absolutely take that offer—especially since he always splurged on a dessert for us. Unfortunately, this was the one night I had somewhere to be.
“I can’t,” I replied, crouching down to the cabinet beneath the register to refill our bags, “I have plans. Rain check?”
“What?!” Atlas clutched his chest as if my words had wounded him. “But who will I share my Mooncakes with?”
Rolling my eyes, I separated the bags and placed them on the counter. “I’m sure you’ll manage just fine.”
“Manage is different than enjoy.” Dramatizing his long face, he pushed himself up from the chair and walked toward the door. “But I guess I’ll just go by myself.” Pausing with his hand on the doorframe, he looked back at me. “I wonder if your boss knows just how mean you are.”
I fought the urge to laugh at his childish behavior. Thirty-seven years old, I swear. Turning my head away, I shrugged. “Good question. If you see him, you should ask.”
Flashing a quick smile, he chuckled softly before opening the door and walking out. Shaking my head at the man who signed my paychecks, I hurried through the last few closing tasks.
Not long after that, I pulled the shop door closed, locking the building up for the night. As the key turned, I tapped my home screen to check on the taxi. The address I’d bookmarked earlier was in the next town over—definitely not within my normal walking distance.
Most of my adult responsibilities fell within the same ten-block radius, which meant I’d never really found the need to have a car. In the rare case things were farther, like tonight, I normally just used my roommates.
Unfortunately, I wasn’t in the mood to explain where I was going tonight—mostly because I wasn’t even sure of that myself. Plus, I would be subjecting myself to five different lectures from the boys and whatever questions Kinsley would have. No thanks, I preferred the driver.
As I stepped toward the curb, the universe decided to test that theory when a strong wind swept in. Instinctively, I pulled my camera tight to my chest and cinched my jacket closed. I squeezed my eyes shut just as my hair whipped around my face. Thankfully, the wind settled as the taxi pulled up.
Reaching for the handle, my reflection in the window caught my attention—or rather, the wild lioness mane spilling around my head. I sighed at the image, smoothing my hair as best as I could before ducking into the car door.
The driver's eyes met mine in the rearview mirror, and just as his eyebrows started to lift in question at my appearance, I held my hand up, stopping him from saying anything. The look I gave him must’ve been a clear indication of just how much I didn’t care for what he had to say because he quickly cleared his throat, looking straight ahead again.
Settling into my seat, I pulled up the information I’d found and read the address aloud. As the car pulled away from the curb, I realized I’d never looked at the attachments from the text, meaning I still hadn’t filled out the paperwork he had mentioned. Shit.
Blowing out a quick breath, I scrolled to the files he’d sent.
If Kyrin hadn’t specifically mentioned the owner being “kind of a dick,” I probably would’ve brushed it off.
People forgot things all the time, and that was an easy excuse, but for a thousand dollars, I could take a few minutes to get it done.
Opening the forms, I was met with one word in bold, italic letters.
Contract. At this point in my life, I wasn’t afraid to admit that I’d signed my life away on countless dotted lines.
Between numerous side jobs and the bigger photography gigs, signing things like this had become a regular thing for me.
Contracts were as common in business as handshakes—the whole purpose was to manage risks and ensure legal compliance.
For a club, though, I wondered why this would even be necessary.
Glancing over the first few sentences, I found my answer.
The contract began by promising a safe, respectful space for play—highlighting the property as an environment designed to test boundaries with anonymity.
Interesting. In order to gain access to this property, one had to sign the contract and apply for a membership.
If accepted in, access to the space came with conditions.
From the first portion alone, I had so many questions about how this place worked. I mean, who would pay for a membership like that? However, the second section was where those questions faded as my eyes halted on the word masks.
What the..
I let my eyes skim through, quickly understanding this part of the document outlined the mandatory rules for membership. The very first stipulation highlighted three different masks that had to be worn at all times.
What the fuck had I gotten myself into.
Blinking a few times to gather my thoughts, I lowered my phone and looked around the car I was in.
I had no idea that places like this even existed.
Regardless, I was capable of taking pictures anywhere, so I mindlessly scrolled to the end of the document and typed my signature.
I didn’t need to know every little detail because I wasn’t signing up to be a member.
I didn’t need to know any specifics because frankly, I didn’t care.
My name on this was for a paycheck. I’d only be there long enough to earn a grand.
Just so I wasn’t completely shooting myself in the foot, I pulled up my messages and sent a quick text to my roommate.
Heading to a photo shoot. If I go missing, look up Kyrin Solstice.
I knew she probably wouldn’t see it right away, but it was the evidence needed if I ended up in a ditch somewhere.
Letting my mind wander, I swiped to my search engine.
My fingers hovered for a second before I typed Kyrin’s name, then the club.
Scrolling through, I realized there was barely anything on either.
I had to go through multiple pages to even find the name Solstice, and when I did come across it, there was only one article.
It turned out, Kyrin was one of three brothers who each owned a business under the family name.
That one page led me to Silas, Kyrin’s older brother.
He was the owner of the club I was headed to, but I only knew that because his name was connected to the address.
The weird thing was the club’s address wasn’t labeled as anything specific.
There were no photos either—of the club or Silas.
It was like there was no record of any place called Ruined.
Just then, Kinsley’s name flashed on my screen with a thumbs up emoji, and I felt the tiniest bit of reassurance. I turned to the window beside me, watching the blurred colors of the outside world rush by. The closer I got to the address, the more intrigued I became with this whole situation.
When the car finally came to a stop, I handed the driver some cash and opened the door.
To my disbelief, the club's exterior was disappointingly bland.
So much so, that I second-guessed the address altogether and sat there for a moment to retype it.
When my phone showed the exact same destination, I stepped out and slung my camera over one shoulder. Was this a joke?
Matte black brick covered the tall building, rising close to two stories high.
A few dark windows were scattered across the wall, but none granted any hints to what was inside.
Besides those, there were no other signs of anything remotely inviting.
The only indication that something was actually inside, was a single, thick metal door framed by two narrow sconces with flickering light.
“This is it?” I muttered to myself as I stepped toward the building. “Who in the hell would pay for something like this?”
A wall of muscle in a black shirt stepped out from around the corner, “Can I help you with something?”
“Yeah, actually. I’m looking for—” my eyes dropped to his nametag. DUSK. “Is that really your name?”
The corner of his mouth lifted in amusement, “Yup. My mom loved sunsets. What is it that you’re looking for exactly?”
I wasn’t sure what I felt more, empathy for the man in front of me, or pity. I answered without taking my eyes off his nametag, “A club. I’m here to take some photos.”
Dusk seemed to have no idea what I was talking about as he looked around at the buildings surrounding us. “I’m sorry. There’s no—”
“She’s with us,” a smooth voice announced as someone else stepped around him.
I immediately recognized the tone, knowing it was the man from the phone call I’d taken earlier.
Turning toward the sound, I found a tall, bronzed figure standing there in a black tank top and ripped jeans.
Kyrin. My eyes scanned over his body, locking in on the tattooed sleeve that covered his right arm.
Moving my gaze to his face, I found it completely covered by a white mask.
He stepped toward me and held out his hand. “You must be Ember.”
I blinked once, my attention still glued on the mask. “Yeah,” I answered, drawing the word out. “That’s me.”