Chapter 2 #2
There was a full setup in the corner, with a mounted camera and rigged lighting, two mics hung overhead.
“Dude runs a channel too,” Powertrain added, catching my stare.
“No shit,” I said, stepping further in, my gaze dragging across everything. “How the hell does he afford all this?”
“He’s a genius.” Powertrain muttered.
“Careful,” a voice called out from behind one of the monitors. “You’re gonna make me blush.”
Hoax rolled his chair back, spinning once before planting his feet on the floor, his grin sharp and just a little too pleased with himself.
Hoax was a different kind of character. He was younger than my thirty-two years, and he had both a menacing yet welcoming way about him.
He lived in hoodies that covered half his face and he always said that was part of the mystery.
But as scrawny as he looked on the outside, fucker was built beneath all those sweatshirts.
We’d gone to the gym a few times and I could never keep up.
If I was lethal, he was stealthily deadly.
And he had brains, which he used to get the National Chapter everything we needed to survive.
I was just never aware of just how much intel was at his disposal.
“I’ve got my fingers dipped in a few things,” he said, gesturing vaguely to the room around him. “Plus, I make good money off my Bitcoin. Enough to live comfortably.”
“Comfortably?” I repeated, glancing at the setup again. “That’s a word for it.”
Powertrain snorted. “He’s underselling it.”
Hoax ignored him, already turning back to his screens. “You’re here about New York.”
“Yeah,” I said, stepping closer. “Jameson wants eyes on the Harlots.”
Hoax’s fingers tapped against the keyboard, pulling up a series of files, images flashing across the screens. Faces. Locations. Names.
“I’ve already started digging,” he said. “One of the key players you need to know about is, Lantana Cruz.”
The name hung there for a second. “Now that’s a name.”
“She runs an underground apothecary.”
I frowned. “What the fuck is an apothecary?”
“A fancy way of saying a drug store.” Powertrain didn’t even finish before swiping at my arm, his hand connecting with enough force to make me jerk back.
“Hey,” I shot back.
“Watch your mouth,” he added.
“Fuck you,” I shot back, rubbing my arm, glaring at him.
Hoax chuckled under his breath, clearly entertained. “It’s more than just a drug store,” he said, pulling up an image on the screen.
My attention snapped back to the woman on the screen.
In two words, fucking gorgeous. Long dark hair, purple streaks mixing in with black strands.
She had sharp features and was, in other words, exotic looking.
In the image on the screen she was wearing a purple leather dress, the material wrapped around her body, fitting in a way that was meant to invite attention.Wide hips, toned legs, a curved belly that led to the perfect pair of tits.
There was something dangerous in the way she looked.
As if she kept a dark secret, and if you were a good dog, she’d let you in on it. And fuck did I want in on it.
“Careful around her,” Hoax continued, his tone shifting just enough to let me know he wasn’t joking anymore.
“Lantana’s smart. Real smart. She’s the Harlots’ Road Captain.
Think of her as the one who keeps everything running smoothly.
” He leaned back in his chair. “Sexy, gothic, and mean in all the right ways. The underground apothecary? That’s just a business front.
She launders money through it, but more importantly, it gives her a place to work. ”
“Work?” I asked.
“Create,” he corrected. “Toxins.”
My brows pulled together. “Toxins?”
“Not just street-level shit,” Hoax said.
“So she runs drugs.”
“No, no,” he shook his finger at me. “This girl’s smart.
Here’s the thing about Lantana Cruz. Somehow she’s gotten access to the NYC Transportation system.
Either her, or Black Obsidian has gained access and I can tell they’ve been playing on it, which is crazy.
Either way, it’s given her full access to infrastructure maps, underground systems, tunnels most people don’t even know exist. The Harlots could move through half the city without ever being seen if they wanted to.
” He tapped the screen. “But that’s not even the interesting part about her. She’s got a doctorate in Toxicology.”
“What the hell is that?” I asked, now truly interested.
“She studies plants. To be more precise, venomous plants. Which means she has knowledge in venom extraction methods as well as what toxins are made out of.”
“So she knows her poisons,” I muttered, my gaze still locked on the image.
“Bubble, bubble, toil and trouble,” Powertrain sing-songed beside me, and I closed my eyes in exasperation.
“It’s double, double, toil and trouble, you idiot.”
“Is it?” he asked, perplexed.
I shook my head as my attention went back to the matter at hand.
“Not only does she make them...” Hoax continued. “Word on the street is that anyone who tries to fuck with her girls ends up paying for it.”
“So we know she uses it on jobs?” I asked.
“I’ll stake my money on it.” He nodded.
Powertrain shifted beside me. “I’ve heard certain plants can paralyze people,” he added, nodding once, a serious look on his face.
Hoax and I both turned to stare at him.
“What?” Powertrain threw his hands up, irritation cutting through his voice as he shot us both a look. “I watch the Discovery Channel. Fuck you.”
I let out a short laugh but it faded just as quickly as it came, swallowed whole by the reality sitting in front of us.
Because the second my eyes drifted back to the screens, to the frozen image of Lantana staring out at me with that knowing expression, that restless feeling settled deep in my gut again, heavier this time.
This wasn’t going to be a clean job.This was supposed to be a simple run where I showed up, gathered intel, and walked away without leaving a trace behind me.
Whatever was happening in New York wasn’t good, and I could feel it in the way the room shifted, in the way even Powertrain stopped fucking around and started paying attention to the information Hoax was showing us.
“Hold up,” Hoax muttered, his tone changing as his fingers moved faster across the keyboard. “You need to see this before you go.”
The wall of screens flickered as live feeds came up and every inch of that digital wall was filled with footage, headlines, and reporters speaking over scenes that all blurred together at first glance but told a very specific story once you forced yourself to slow down and actually look.
My steps carried me forward without thinking, closing the distance until I stood beside Powertrain, my eyes tracking each clip, forcing myself to break it down piece by piece instead of letting it wash over me all at once.
Bodies being wheeled out under white sheets, the outlines beneath them stiff. Police tape stretched tight across doorways, across alley entrances, across luxury apartments that told me these weren’t random hits pulled off the street, but targeted.
Then came images no one in the public eye should have had access to. Markers placed carefully beside overturned furniture, beside bloody bedsheets twisted from whatever struggle had taken place before the end came.
Then the close-ups of blood splattered walls came next, a wallet knocked on the floor left open,
and there it was, that same black velvet card that Jameson had on his desk.
“Jesus,” Powertrain muttered under his breath, the word dragged out as he leaned in slightly, his usual composure cracking just enough to show this wasn’t sitting right with him either.
“Same signature,” Hoax said, his voice lower now. “Every single one of them.”
Powertrain stepped back, his hand dragging over his face, fingers pressing into his jaw as he shook his head slowly. “No… no, that doesn’t track,” he said, more to himself than to us, though his voice carried through the room anyway. “That’s not how they operate. That’s not how she operates.”
Hoax leaned back slightly in his chair, one brow lifting as he gestured toward the screens. “Then explain it to me,” he shot back. “Because I’m looking at the same toxin profile, the same setup, the same damn calling card being left behind each time, and none of that screams coincidence.”
“I’m not saying it’s coincidence,” Powertrain snapped, turning back toward him, his tone sharper now, more defensive, but not blind.
“I’m saying it doesn’t fit with how Duchess runs her house.
She doesn’t get sloppy. She doesn’t draw attention like this.
Everything she does is calculated and clean. ”
His gaze shifted toward me then, something darker settling in his eyes.
“Unless Lantana went rogue.”
The word landed heavy, carrying consequences that none of us needed spelled out.
“And Duchess doesn’t know about it,” he added, quieter this time, but no less certain.
Silence filled the space after that as we processed it all.
Hoax exhaled slowly, leaning back fully now, his chair creaking beneath him as he folded his arms across his chest. “Either way,” he said, his voice leveling out again, “someone is using their methods, their signature, and they’re doing it loud enough to make sure people notice.”
“Too loud,” I said, my gaze still locked on that card, on the pattern forming whether I wanted to see it or not. “This isn’t just about cleaning house. This is someone sending a message.”
“To who?” Hoax asked, watching me carefully.
I didn’t answer. Because the truth was, I didn’t have an answer.
Powertrain let out a slow breath, then turned fully toward me, whatever hesitation he had before settling into something more solid, more resolved.
“That’s exactly why we need you there,” he said, his voice steady now.
“We need boots on the ground. We need to know if this is showing up internally, or if someone is setting them up to take the fall.”
I nodded, but it didn’t feel light, didn’t feel routine.This wasn’t just collecting intel anymore.This was a situation just waiting to blow the fuck up the second a wrong move was made.
I drew in a breath, holding it for a second, before letting it out slowly, my gaze shifting between the two of them.
“What the fuck happens if she uses that same toxin on me?”
Powertrain didn’t answer right away because we all understood the repercussions of fucking with a Harlot.
His eyes narrowed slightly as he met mine, not softening one bit. “Then you’re done,” he said bluntly. “You step wrong, you get too close, you give her a reason to see you as a threat… you won’t get a warning.”
Hoax nodded once, his expression serious now, all traces of humor gone. “From what I can see, she never fails,” he added. “And she doesn’t rush her murders. If she decides you’re a problem, you won’t see it coming. You won’t even feel it until it’s already in your system.”
I rolled my shoulders back, forcing the tension out of them before it had a chance to lock me down, my gaze drifting back to the screens, to the bodies, to the pattern that was forming whether any of us liked it or not.
“Then I guess I don’t give her a reason,” I said, quieter now, but solid.
Powertrain let out a breath that almost sounded like a laugh, though there wasn’t anything funny about it. “Yeah,” he muttered. “Let’s hope she doesn’t decide that for you.”
My eyes stayed on that velvet card, on the way it sat there in every frame. And for the first time since Jameson handed me this job, I felt the anxiety creep in.
Because if I got this wrong…there wouldn’t be a second chance. I was fucked.