Chapter 19
ARDEN
The events of the last few hours have left me feeling drained, both mentally and physically. I should sleep. I should lock the door and let the world go dark. But Locke’s voice is a splinter in my mind, incessant and impossible to ignore. ‘You’re not going anywhere near his place.’
Honestly, who is he to tell me I can’t go?
‘You’re never off the clock with me.’ We’ll see about that.
Locke disappears down the maze of hallways leading toward his room, distracted by an oddly-timed phone call, and the silence in this house instantly feels suffocating.
I stand there, my hand hovering over the bedroom doorknob, my vision blurring with exhaustion.
Every muscle in my body is screaming for the mattress, or a hot bath, but my pulse is doing something else.
Racing with frantic, and quite possibly stupid, curiosity.
I don’t give myself time to change my mind.
I peel off the gown with shaking hands, and slide into an outfit that feels more like a weapon: my favorite pair of faded ripped jeans and a black tank top.
My usual boots with chunky heels finish the look, and I’m out the back door in a matter of minutes.
My pulse hammers in my chest as I sneak past the pool. Not from fear, but excitement… pure adrenaline. Every shadow feels like it’s watching, every step dares him to catch me. I inspect the perimeter of the house as I sneak past. Are there cameras? Probably. Do I care? Not even a little.
I tell myself it’s just curiosity, and that I’ll only peek in. I just need to know what kind of man I’m really up against. A few minutes. Pure research.
My boots hit the pavement, one after another, until I’m sliding into the backseat of a rideshare. The city blurs by, and with every flashing light, reality sets in — there’s absolutely no turning back now.
The car crunches up the gravel drive of Luke’s sprawling mansion, stopping to let me out before continuing back down to the main road.
The house is dark, but bursts of color flash in the windows.
Red, violet, gold, blue, like the house itself is breathing in time with the bass I can hear from outside the front door.
I don’t bother knocking, just push the door open and step over the threshold. To my surprise, there are two security guards dressed in black suits flanking the entrance. The top halves of their faces are hidden behind ornate gold domino masks.
“Phone,” one of them says, shoving a small plastic bin in my direction.
“Phone?” I echo. My voice is a combination of shock and bewilderment.
The guard on my opposite side leans in and whispers, “Put your phone in the basket.”
A giant knot instantly forms in my stomach. Not just because they want my phone, but also because what he said came dangerously close to, “It puts the phone in the basket.” Not a great vibe.
With a shaky breath, I ignore the sinking feeling and reach into the back pocket of my jeans. I glance down before handing the phone over, and my eyes snag on the screen. It’s flooded with notifications: calls, text messages, even a video call — all from Locke. I guess he’s their problem now.
The chaos inside the house is all-consuming, beckoning me in.
The air is hot and thick with the scent of perfume and sweat and something else…
metallic. I scan the room, trying to orient myself or find a familiar face, which seems to pose a problem because every headline I’ve ever read is staring back at me.
Actors, models, pro athletes… they’re all here.
Every one of them wears a smile that doesn’t quite reach their glassy eyes, and their movements are loose in a way that sends prickles down my spine. Whatever’s in the punch, I’m staying far away from it.
I inch forward, circling the perimeter of the room, eyes fighting to focus with each flash of light. I’m not sure if my head is spinning from the aftereffects of the alcohol I drank earlier or the music I can barely hear myself think over.
Female servers weave through the crowd in matching black silk slips that cling to their skin and look far too short to be uniforms. The same ornate gold masks the security guards wore obscure their faces, too.
Other girls, dressed the same, stand scattered in corners, completely silent, their gazes fixed on nothing.
Like they’re decorations, rather than guests.
A tall, muscular man reaches out as he passes one of them. He casually runs his hand up the length of her thigh, lifting the dress slightly to reveal a barely-there lace thong underneath. His gaze roams over every inch of her body as he licks his lips. She doesn’t react to any of it.
What the fuck is this?
My heart beats like a war drum in my chest, and I feel like I might be sick. I turn my head, desperately needing a distraction.
Then, my gaze lands on a long table in the center of the room. Not a normal table, more like an elevated trough. My stomach drops as soon as I realize what’s in it.
There’s a female body stretched out under spotlights. Her skin is deathly pale, naked limbs arranged just so and partially submerged in viscous red liquid. No, that’s not… It can’t be… am I hallucinating?
My throat begins to close as I realize people are standing around it… staring… eating?
As I inch closer, faces come into view. A huddle of women, all tall and unnaturally thin, licking their lips that are stained deep red. I overhear a familiar voice and turn to see none other than Sienna Vale excitedly chattering to the woman beside her. “Try the blood; it’s delicious!”
What the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck.
As I close in on the table, I catch bits and pieces of other conversations.
“It’s so realistic!”
“It’s pure art.”
“I wonder what’s on the inside.”
As I approach the edge of the table, I notice one of Sienna’s friends is holding up a large kitchen knife. She plunges the blade into the woman’s thigh before I can even think about what’s happening. My eyes go wide in pure horror. I clamp both hands over my mouth to keep myself from screaming.
She pulls the knife away, blood-red liquid filling the space where the chunk of flesh used to be. But it’s not flesh on her plate. It’s… chocolate cake?
The crowd is giggling now, dipping fingers into the pool of thick red liquid and licking them off. Plunging forks and spoons directly into the perfectly glazed frosting that looks so much like actual skin.
They act like it’s a joke, but every instinct in me screams that there’s something deeper behind it. I want to run, duck out before anyone recognizes me, especially Sienna, but I feel a hand on my shoulder before I can even move.
Then a slick, familiar voice is in my ear. “Isn’t it beautiful?” Luke murmurs. His voice is smooth as silk, completely unbothered by the events unfolding around him. “It was Sienna’s idea.”
I glance back toward the group of women surrounding the supermodel, then at him. “Are you two together now?”
He gives me a smirk that tells me he’s flattered by the question. “I guess you could say that… although we have more of an open relationship.”
“I see,” I reply, looking up at him through my lashes.
His hand still rests on my shoulder, and he gives me an assessing look, like he’s trying to solve a puzzle. “I’m surprised you came. Didn’t know Locke had a new lady.”
I huff out a single breath. “We’re not a couple. It was just one date.”
He raises his eyebrows. “Oh, in that case, come see what’s out back. That’s where the real fun is.”
Just then, a shadow falls over us and a hand clamps down over Luke’s on my shoulder. The pressure is firm enough that it actually hurts.
“Actually, we were just heading home,” a deep, possessive voice cuts in. Locke.
I jump at the sudden intrusion, and spin to see his dark eyes glaring at Luke. Luke still seems completely unfazed as a slow grin spreads across his face.
“Locke!” I say, trying not to sound too relieved.
Luke slides his hand from beneath Locke’s, though his smirk remains. “Just showing your date what real fun is. I’m sure this,” he says, gesturing to the surrounding chaos, “is a bit loud for your tastes, Locke. But some women actually prefer a little noise to the polite silence you offer.”
Locke’s eyes narrow. “She’s with me. That’s all that matters.”
“Right, right,” Luke says, chuckling.
He leans in toward me, ignoring the growing tension. “Just know the offer still stands. Something tells me you prefer some excitement to being leashed.”
Locke’s jaw tightens, and I make sure I’m positioned between them.
I turn to Luke again. “If I were you, I wouldn’t underestimate how much I might like a good leash.” I give him a playful wink. Then, turning to Locke, “Care to walk me out?”
Locke doesn’t say a word, but his grip on my hand is firm as he leads me away, his watchful presence a solid wall between me and Luke.
My pulse pounds so hard I’m sure he can feel it through my skin. I give him a weak smile as we head towards the door. He doesn’t smile back.
Before we can make it out, two burly men wearing the same suits and ornate gold masks as the security guards from earlier cut in front of us. They’re each gripping an arm of a girl who can’t be a day over 20.
She’s frantic, writhing and screaming. As they drag her toward the door, I glimpse her face. The fight left her cheeks flushed, and trails of mascara smudged down them.
It feels as if the room is spinning. Where did they even bring her from? She’s not wearing a black slip or gold mask like the servers, so she must be a guest.
I turn toward Locke. His expression mirrors the same concern and confusion I’m feeling.
He reaches into his suit jacket and pulls out a small black rectangle.
“I’ll go check on her; you go outside,” he says as he presses my phone into my palm.
He’s chasing after the guards before I can ask how he got it.
The brisk night air slams into me like a slap to the face.
I welcome the sensation, taking a deep breath in.
I tilt my head back, searching for stars that aren’t there.
Exhaling a cloud of silver breath, I square my shoulders, lowering my chin again as the world rushes back to meet me.
I’m just glad to finally be out of that house.
That’s when I spot him. Nate. He leans casually against his motorcycle at the edge of the drive, helmet on the seat, as smoke curls from a cigarette between his gloved fingers.
He looks me over once, a faint smirk tugging at his mouth, like he already knows exactly what I’ve just witnessed, what happened with Locke, and thinks I deserved all of it.
“I’m ready to take you home,” he calls out to me, “unless you want to be the next one on the table.” He chuckles at that remark. The smug bastard.
I don’t respond. My throat is tight. I can’t get any words out past the shock of what I just saw and the very high chance that there were even more horrors to be discovered. Not to mention, I still have no idea what Locke has to say about all this.
I just tug on the helmet, climb on the bike, and exhale a sigh of relief as the engine’s roar drowns out the sound of twisted laughter still spilling from Luke’s open windows.
The city lights blend in streaks of red and gold as we cut through the night. I can finally let myself breathe as Nate puts more and more distance between us and the party. At a stop, he leans back just enough for his words to carry over the engine.
“Was the party worth the lecture you’ll be getting from my brother?”
“I don’t even understand how parties like that exist,” I say flatly, trying and failing to erase the images from my mind.
Nate chuckles, but it’s not lighthearted. It’s dark. Like he knows. “Locke hired you for your skills. Clearly, not your common sense.”
“What do you mean by that?” I reply, not entirely sure I’m hiding the embarrassment in my voice.
“It just might do you some good to listen to my brother for once.”
I arch a brow. “Oh, you mean just let him control everything I do? Because the jail threats aren’t enough?”
Nate just shrugs. “You brought this on yourself, girl. All the lying and stealing has finally caught up with you.”
I don’t reply. I know what he’s saying is the truth; I just don’t think I’m ready to face it.
Nate keeps quiet for the rest of the ride home. It’s only when he’s parked his motorcycle at the top of Locke’s gravel driveway that he speaks again.
“Listen. Do your job. Stop acting like you have something to prove.” He pauses to light another cigarette. I can’t help but shake my head. These men and their smoking habits.
“Most importantly, get to know him. You might be surprised at how much the two of you actually have in common.”
My brow furrows at him. “How could you possibly know what we have in common?”
He shrugs. “You both give off the same ‘lone wolf, can’t trust anyone but myself’ vibe. You must have something in common.”
I can’t stop the laughter that bubbles up in my chest.
Nate’s phone lets out a loud *ding* that echoes through the night's calm air. He glances at it, then back up at me.
“Locke is on his way. He said you should pack a bag; you have a flight in an hour.”