Dark Whispers

Prologue

RAVEN

T he calluses on my hands help me keep my grip on the shiny silver pole as I slide down to the floor of the main stage, gliding into the splits.

Euphoria is busy, just like any other night. My usuals surround the stage, eager for any amount of attention I’ll give them. Mr. Calloway waves a twenty in my direction, beckoning me closer. Knowing I have to comply, I drop down onto all fours and crawl over to him.

His bourbon breath fans my face. “I paid for us to use the Red Room later.”

My stomach rolls, but I don’t let it show on my face. “Sounds good, honey.”

“I expect some quality screams tonight, pet.” Calloway slips the twenty into my bra, right between my boobs, and winks.

The smile on my face is forced, but men like Calloway don’t know the difference.

Dipping my head down, I whip up, giving my hair that flipped look as I lean back onto my knees. I gracefully get to my feet in a twirl, successfully getting myself away from Calloway. I don’t want to spend any more time with him than I have to.

Discreetly, I check on Mya. She’s dancing on one of the two smaller stages.

She always attracts a sizeable crowd. Her red hair is easy to find.

As she spins around the pole, she looks at me as well.

We exchange a slight head nod, something we do regularly to check in on each other, and go back to our routines.

One of the men in front of me is new. And as hard as he tries, I know he’s not paying attention to me.

He glances over his shoulder again, and I follow his line of sight to the girl I met earlier, Carmen.

She’s handcuffed to the pole on the other small stage.

Anthony and Pierce are her only audience.

“Raven, my love,” another regular calls to me. Mr. Seymour.

In my five-inch heels, I sashay to him next. He stands, sticking his money in my thong at my hip. He motions with his index finger for me to get closer. I go along with his request. I don’t want to think about what the consequences would be if I refused.

Swirling my hips, I dip lower and lower until we’re face to face.

“Don’t let Calloway wear you out too much. I’m next.” Seymour enjoys my pain even more than Calloway. I usually have to be carried out after time with him.

I’m able to hold back the gag in my throat, but Seymour doesn’t miss how my eyes widen momentarily.

His hand whips out, grabbing my face in one hand and squeezing my cheeks. “I expect you to be a good whore for me.”

A bouncer steps forward. “Hey! No touching the dancers!”

Seymour releases his grip, wearing an easy smile. “We’re good.” He fixes the sleeves of his suit and looks at me out of the corner of his eye. “I paid for this one.”

Pop! Pop! Pop!

I drop to my stomach on the stage as screams echo off the high ceilings. My hands shake as I push my hair out of my face.

The customers shout in alarm, running for the exits. Pierce has a gun to Carmen’s temple as the man who was seated in front of me and two others close in on him. Anthony stalks backward toward the stairs leading to his office, firing off more bullets from his handgun as he goes.

Glimpsing Mya’s stage, I find it empty. I scan the room for her. As I spot one of the bouncers ushering her into the dressing room, she finds me at the same time. Her eyes widen but are no longer fixed on me. Twisting, I find the cause of her alarm as I’m yanked off the stage.

“You’re coming with me.” Seymour holds my upper arm and stares into my face with crazed eyes.

“No! Let go of me!” The pounding in my chest pushes me to fight.

Survival takes over the closer we get to the side emergency exit.

I shove his shoulder and yell for help repeatedly, but it’s to no avail.

If he gets me in his car, I won’t be able to get away.

He’ll get me to his home where he’ll chain me to his bed until he kills me.

Not happening.

I use my nails to claw the side of his face, leaving five red streaks. He flinches, and I aim for his neck. More broken skin.

Seymour turns to me, fuming. “Stop fighting me! Whores don’t get a say in where they go! They?—”

Cutting him off, I use my heel to bash him in the side of the head. I hit him again and again until he falls to the ground.

“What do you think you’re doing?” The bouncer from earlier wraps his arms around my stomach, lifting me and carrying me to the dressing room.

“I wasn’t going to run!”

“Whatever. Tell that to the bosses later.”

He doesn’t understand. I can’t leave. Not without Noah.

“You're healthy as a horse, sweetheart.” The kind nurse looks like she auditioned for Barbie before coming to work as she flips through my medical chart.

Sitting on the hospital bed, I nod my head instead of giving her a verbal reply.

What am I supposed to say? Yeah, the man who kidnapped me kept me up to date on my vaccines because that meant he could get more use out of me. Even while I was pregnant, he found “customers” who had a pregnancy kink.

The nurse’s slight smile gives away her sympathy. “Is there anyone I can call for you?”

“No, thank you, ma’am.” My southern drawl slips out.

She chuckles. “Oh, please, honey. Ma’am is for old people. Just call me Nurse Amy.”

I don’t feel the small curve of my lips, but I know it’s there. It’s my “I’m going through the motions” smile. I’ve been going through the motions for the last eight years. It’s been longer than that, if I’m being honest with myself.

Shivering in my donated scrubs, my toes curl. My desperation to escape this place makes an itch spread across my skin. I don’t like hospitals. I’m a cliché, but with my history, no one can blame me. And there’s more than just my dislike of hospitals that has me yearning to get out of here.

The door bangs open, and in rushes my little mini me.

“Mom!”

Gawking in disbelief, my mouth falls open, and my thoughts of discomfort are gone. Pure joy sparks in my chest, and I leap off the bed, meeting my son halfway. “Noah!” I catch him when he jumps, and we wrap our arms around each other.

Looking up, I find Nurse Amy and a beautiful brunette woman exiting the room, shutting the door behind them to give Noah and me some privacy.

Noah buries his face in my neck, and silent tears roll down my cheeks as I rest my chin on top of his head. I silently curse the assholes at the club who used to mock me when I’d beg for a glimpse of Noah.

Fortunately, those men got what they deserved.

My little boy may only be six years old, but he’s big for his age. His weight becomes too much to hold, so I sit back down on the rock-hard bed, situating Noah in my lap.

Leaning back, I look him over, taking in all the small changes that have transformed his little features since I saw him a month ago.

He’s taller, and his hair is longer. The scar running along the side of his face has faded a bit.

Nausea churns in my stomach as I recall the day he got it, but I don’t let the guilt show on my face.

He doesn’t need a complex about his appearance.

Brushing off the remorse, I allow myself to clutch onto this time with him. “How did you get here, Little King?”

“Mrs. Dahlia and some of her friends got us out of the house. They killed all the shitbags?—”

“Language,” I chide. I can’t let myself think too much about all the horrible things he’s heard while growing up in that damned house, or else I’ll fall apart, and I won’t be able to put myself back together.

“Sorry, Mama,” he concedes even though he doesn’t look contrite.

It’s like I have a sixteen-year-old rather than a small child.

“Mrs. Dahlia’s friends shot all the men in the house, and then we walked out the front door.

They were really nice and got us ice cream.

Then Mrs. Dahlia’s boyfriend took us to his house in Bosh-ton.

There were guards everywhere with guns, but they weren’t mean, and I was allowed to play outside with August and Margaret. ”

A hole opens in my chest, and I struggle to keep a smile on my face as Noah tells me all about his adventures.

I hate that something as simple as going outside is a big deal to him.

With Anthony and all his men dead, I’m going to start a new life for us.

Noah deserves a home where he can play in the yard whenever he wants.

The guilt fades as gratitude overwhelms me. I will forever be in Dahlia’s debt. She and her friends have given me an opportunity to have what I never thought was possible—a real life.