5. Silas
Silas
I sat alone, twirling a pen between my fingers at my desk.
For three days, I’d waited for this exact moment to come.
I’d spent most of that time envisioning this very package being delivered, but more often than not, I found myself thinking about the woman who sent it.
At this point, it felt like my thoughts were beginning to consume me—each one consisted of her.
Now that her photos were in front of me, I almost didn’t want to open them. Instead, I watched the light from the setting sun move across my desk, cutting long slats across the manila envelope.
Proofs.
Ember Vale.
Resting one elbow on my desk, I ran my thumb along my jaw before leaning forward and pulling the envelope closer.
As curious as I was to see the pictures inside, seeing her name angered me.
I’d convinced myself she would crumble inside my walls.
Instead, she thrived—taking control of the whole goddamn room we had been in.
It hadn’t been enough for her just to piss me off by proving me wrong, she had then chosen to openly defy me in my own club.
On top of all of that, this delivery meant that she had downloaded, edited and printed this portfolio within three days.
That was the fastest turnaround time I had ever experienced from a photographer, which was even more infuriating.
Pulling the tape off the envelope, I slowly slid the glossy 8x10s free.
A fresh wave of irritation rose when I quickly realized Kyrin had been right about her.
Through the camera lens, she found a way to capture the beautiful, feral mess here.
Somehow, she’d taken hidden faces and transformed them into intimate moments that felt raw and haunting.
One photo screamed lust, showcasing the veins running up a man’s arms as he gripped the open thighs in front of him.
The bottom half of his Volunteer mask showed his tongue hanging out, ready to please.
Another highlighted a man who was being ridden, the woman on top staring down with such intensity I could see it through her mask.
The third showed a Volunteer licking the curve of a spine as each bead of sweat reflected the colors around them.
Each pose position only highlighted the mask being worn.
They were all remarkable in their own way, and I had zero notes on her technique.
In fact, I took my time, enjoying and analyzing each picture.
Soon, I realized they only grew in potency, and a strange feeling settled over me.
Each time I came across a new photo, I knew it wasn’t the artistry that made my grip tighten—it was the person behind the camera.
I kept finding her at the edges of the frames and in reflections of mirrors.
Without even realizing it, I was searching for her in each one.
My mind moved on its own, looking for the blurred silhouette of a woman with wild brown hair, just out of focus.
She was everywhere without ever being the intended subject.
I set the photos down on my desk and felt my hands curl instinctively into fists.
This brewing feeling was not one of irritation or anger.
What was building inside of me now was stronger.
Each second that passed, I only felt it grow as it ignited inside my veins.
I needed to do something, and fast. This feeling was overwhelming, and I needed to channel it somewhere. Naturally, my mind chose anger.
Not only had she treated my rules as if they were suggestions, but it was as if nothing could touch her—like her entire presence was a fire that refused to go out.
The fact that she walked around that loud, that bright—maybe it would be best if I was the one to show her exactly how the world would eventually treat her.
Flipping through the photos in my hand, it now seemed like every image she’d sent was a deliberate challenge, a quiet smirk aimed straight at me. She hadn’t just disobeyed me. She'd disrespected my club, my space, the order I’d built and protected.
No one did that. Ever. My jaw tightened as my mind replayed the last interaction I had with her. She hadn’t just taken her mask off but casually exposed herself to everyone in an act of defiance toward me.
I felt the back of my teeth grind together as I thought about it, all because I couldn’t get that damn moment out of my head.
At first, I didn’t understand why, but now, seeing these photos, I knew—it was her and all her chaos.
She was uncontained, like fire in its purest form, and as much as I tried to fight it, I was drawn to her unpredictable heat.
Rolling my shoulders, I tried to release the tension building in my body, but the more I thought about her, the more my blood boiled.
She hadn't even bothered to make herself presentable before coming here. Her hair had been unbrushed, and she’d worn that damn yellow dress and leather jacket.
Just like her annoying business card, her fashion sense also got under my skin.
A low growl escaped me as I brought my fist down on the desk, the sound cracking through the room.
It wasn’t just about my rules anymore—it was about her.
A fire like that was dangerous and needed to be controlled.
Closing my eyes, I pictured her as a raging inferno that burned everything I stood for.
She was too much, too intentional to be anything but a provocation.
I drew a slow breath in through my nose, allowing my thoughts to settle.
It all made sense—why her wild hair, her unmasked face, and the defiant look in her eyes refused to leave my thoughts.
She thought this was all a game, but she hadn’t been face-to-face with actual darkness before, not like mine.
All I needed to do was smother her with it.
No oxygen meant no flame, and no flame meant that she would know what it was like to be ruined, to be torn down to her very core.
If I could get her there, I could rebuild her with my own hands, piece by piece.
I’d barely spoken to her the night of the shoot, leaving Kyrin to handle everything after. I convinced myself she wasn’t worth anything, but now, watching her flame die out meant everything to me.
I sat up, a new determination settling deep in my chest. She would learn what it felt like to be stripped of confidence, to be left bare and vulnerable.
Like a sign from whatever demon possessed me, her business card once again caught my attention from the trash can beside my desk.
I picked it up, turning it between my fingers as a slow grin spread across my face.
The color didn’t even bother me anymore because I planned to bleed it dry.
EMBER VALE
877-555-4890
Pushing the photos aside, I logged in to the club’s database and pulled up the record from her ID.
Ember Vale.
Female.
25.
Employed- multiple
No criminal record.
This was going to be too easy.
A small part of me hoped there was more I couldn't see. Either way, I needed the full picture before I put any type of plan into place.
I picked up my phone, tapping a contact I used quite frequently, my cousin Knox.
He was my go-to for this kind of work, including things like finalizing my staff roster.
All club members ran through a general database for their background checks, but for my employees, I recruited someone who could find every secret.
Having an extensive background as a P.I.
, Knox had initially been hired specifically for staffing, but now, I used him to find any type of information I needed.
The dude could hack any electronic, find any face, and uncover anything that was hidden.
He lived for it and looked forward to most of the tasks I gave him.
The line rang once, then again before it clicked softly. Knox’s voice was low as he answered. “Lay it on me.”
“I have a name. I’m looking for a full workup.”
The steady click of a keyboard filled the background. “What do I have to work with?”
I glanced at the card again, slowly dragging my thumb over her first name. “Ember V-A-L-E.”
More light tapping followed, then a small click of his tongue. “What are we looking for?”
“I want everything. History. Records. Real name, if that isn’t it. Bank accounts. Web presence. Social. Family. Anything you can find.”
He hummed in approval. “I’ll need a few days. I’ll send it in a file like usual.”
“The faster, the better.” With that, I pulled my phone away from my ear as the line went dead.
Because of him, I’d be able to get everything I needed.
As soon as I had that file, I’d know exactly what method to use on her.
The more I let my thoughts stray to possible scenarios, the more excited I became for her downfall.
Pulling up my email, I secured the next step in my plan by typing up a quick message—or more so, an invitation.
The email was quick, methodically typed to elicit the reaction I knew she’d inevitably give. Only after confirming the delivery did I gather my things, my mind shifting back to what was in front of me, specifically the dinner I was expected at soon.
After checking in with the bartender and going over the next shift with Taya, I stepped into the night. Cold air scraped against my skin, my body erupting in goosebumps. I smiled as I watched them spread, knowing I would soon be able to claim the same reaction from her.