Chapter 18
Violet
“Who are you?” the security guard asked, his voice hard. “And what the hell are you doing on this property?”
My mind went blank.
“I—" My voice came out as a croak. I cleared my throat and tried again. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—”
“On your feet. And put your hands where I can see them,” he ordered, gesturing with the gun. “Now.”
I slowly rose from my crouched position, hands lifting, legs threatening to give out beneath me. This was it. The Dionysus Club was going to find out everything I'd been up to, and then I'd end up just like my sister. Another convenient accident, another covered-up murder.
“What the hell are you doing here?” the guard repeated.
My survival instincts kicked in, and I took a deep breath, deciding my best bet was to channel Cherry and act my ass off.
“I’m so sorry, sir,” I said, forcing a smile as I lowered my cloak hood. “I came out for a smoke, and I got totally turned around. I’m just so bad with directions, and—”
He cut me off. “Who are you?”
“I’m one of Jolie’s girls,” I said, recalling the conversation I’d overheard in the tunnel earlier. “They hired us for the entertainment.”
“Ah.” The guard lowered his gun. Most of the suspicion had drained from his face, but his shoulders remained tense. “Weren't you supposed to arrive with the rest of them an hour ago?”
I blinked, momentarily stunned by how quickly he’d bought my lie. Then again, most of the guards here were probably operating under a ‘who would actually be stupid enough to infiltrate the Dionysus estate?’ mentality.
The answer, apparently, was me. This plan was catastrophically reckless, and I was painfully aware of that fact. But I had to get answers about what happened to my sister, even if it meant risking everything.
I forced my smile brighter. “Yeah, I got here a while ago, but like I said, I came out to have a cigarette, and then I forgot which way I came from,” I said. “I really am the absolute worst with directions. Everyone always teases me about it. But I’m a good dancer, I swear!”
His eyes narrowed slightly. “Shouldn’t you be in some sort of costume?”
“No, we always get our hair and makeup done first,” I said, stepping closer and tilting my face slightly upward.
Internally, I was silently thanking god that Cherry had insisted on the heavy party makeup.
“See? Costume comes last. Otherwise you risk spillage on the fabric, and then everyone gets majorly pissed at you.”
“Right.” He glanced at his watch. “Well, it’s 9:32, so you better get back in there before you miss it.”
“Will do.” I glanced around, frowning. “Erm… do I go left or right to get back in?”
He sighed and holstered his gun. “I’ll take you,” he muttered.
He motioned for me to move ahead of him, his hand hovering near his holster. I forced a shaky smile and started walking, gravel crunching softly under my boots as we rounded the southeastern side of the mansion.
A single side door stood recessed beneath a stone archway carved with ivy and grapevines.
It wasn’t the grand front entrance I’d seen from the lawn, but rather something built for the help, half-hidden and unremarkable.
The guard pulled a keycard from his pocket and swiped it through the reader, and the door clicked open.
Warm air spilled out, scented with perfume, candle wax, and something faintly sweet, like spiced wine.
The moment I stepped inside, I felt as if I’d entered another world entirely.
The corridor ahead was long and gleaming, lined with marble pillars and archways painted with pale frescoes; nymphs and satyrs twined together in eternal revelry.
The floor beneath my boots was white marble polished to a mirror’s sheen, and every few feet stood a bronze brazier burning with low, flickering firelight.
Staff in black uniforms swept past carrying trays and crystal decanters. None of them looked at me twice. My escort’s presence was all the explanation they needed, his security badge like an invisible shield that made me part of the background.
We passed a set of double doors and turned down another corridor that seemed to go on forever. Finally, we stopped before a half-open door glowing with warm golden light.
“Here you go,” the guard said gruffly.
“Thanks so much. Have a good night,” I said, flashing him another smile.
I stepped through the doorway, casting my eyes over the room.
Dozens of young women were flitting around, all dressed in glittering costumes that caught the light like a thousand tiny suns.
Their outfits were jeweled bras and matching panties with sheer golden skirts that floated around their hips. Each wore a golden half-mask.
Before I could even think about my next move, a skinny man with a clipboard and a headset stormed toward me.
“Why the hell aren’t you in costume already?” he snapped. “For fuck’s sake, hurry up. And get more lipstick on, too!”
I swallowed thickly. “I… uh…”
He jabbed his pen toward an empty chair at the far end of the room. “There! Move it, or you’re not getting paid!” he snapped. “We’ve only got ten minutes until we need to start heading down.”
I mumbled a quick apology, but he was already striding away, muttering something that sounded like "who the hell even hired this one?". A second later he was shouting at another girl about her fake tan, the question already forgotten.
Every instinct screamed at me to turn and run before the coordinator realized that no one had actually hired me, but I forced myself to walk over to the chair he’d pointed toward. He was drowning in chaos, so as long as I acted like I belonged here, he wouldn't have time to question it.
I removed my black cloak and tucked it underneath the seat with my phone wrapped inside. Then I sat down, picked up a tube of red lipstick, and swiped it on before glancing toward a nearby rack draped in costumes.
I rose, moving casually, as if I knew exactly what I was doing.
My fingers brushed over the fabrics until I found one in my size, and I stripped off the rest of my clothes and replaced them with the barely-there costume.
Once I was done, I found a pair of gold strappy heels in my size and slid into them.
Several masks rested on a counter beside the rack, delicate and gleaming. I lifted one carefully, heart pounding, and tied the ribbon behind my head. When I looked in the mirror, I didn’t recognize myself. The mask had transformed me into just another anonymous body in gold.
That was exactly what I needed right now.
I straightened, looking around to see what the other girls were doing. At the far end of the room, a second doorway stood open, revealing a long hallway bathed in amber light. Many of the dancers were lining up there now, heels clicking in unison as they moved.
I slipped toward the edge of the room, careful to keep my movements smooth and unhurried. If I stayed with these girls, I’d be taken straight into the initiation ceremony. No sneaking, no climbing, no breaking in through windows. Front-row access, handed right to me.
Getting caught had turned out to be the best possible thing that could’ve happened to me tonight.
I fell into line at the very end. A brunette girl ahead of me turned around and peered at me, brown eyes lingering on my hair before moving to my chest and then back up again. “Kelly?” she whispered, head tilting. “I thought you said you don’t do these gigs.”
Whoever Kelly was, her hair and the lower half of her face apparently looked a lot like mine. “I changed my mind,” I whispered back to the girl. “I really need the money.”
“Good call. The tips last year were huge,” she replied, rubbing her fingers together. “You won’t regret it.”
Before I could reply, the coordinator called out from the front, clapping his hands sharply. “Let’s go, ladies! It’s showtime.”
The line began to move.
We filed out of the dressing room and down a sweeping marble staircase, the music growing fainter with every step. At the bottom of the stairs stood a heavy wooden door.
The coordinator pulled it open, revealing a narrow stone passageway flickering with candlelight. The laughter and chatter that had filled the dressing room vanished instantly, replaced by a hushed, nervous silence.
“Keep moving,” a man’s voice barked from ahead.
The line shuffled forward. The corridor sloped downward, winding and twisting, with each turn revealing another fork. My sense of direction vanished within minutes.
We were in a labyrinth.
I forced myself to keep pace, eyes flicking from the carved walls—etched with vines, grapes, and strange figures that looked half-human, half-animal—to the others ahead of me.
Their golden skirts shimmered in the light of the red candles mounted in iron sconces, and the sound of their heels against stone echoed endlessly, a hypnotic rhythm that made it hard to tell how long we’d been walking.
Finally, we emerged into a vast open space.
It was a huge underground chamber. Its ceiling arched high overhead, supported by hulking Corinthian columns, and blood-red candles lined the walls in dense clusters, their flames casting an eerie light throughout the space.
Built into the center of the opposite wall was a raised platform lined with bronze braziers.
It was both breathtaking and terrifying.
“All right, ladies,” the coordinator called, his tone clipped. “The men will be arriving soon. You’ll remain along the outer perimeter until the ceremony concludes. No speaking. No wandering.”
He gestured toward the edges of the chamber, where a low stone ledge ran along the walls like a dais.
“When the ceremony ends, you’ll step down into the chamber and start circulating,” he went on. “Keep smiling at all times, and don’t show any attitude.”
One of the girls stuck her hand up. “Do we need to go to anyone in particular?”
The coordinator shook his head. “You take care of whoever shows interest in you,” he said. “Whatever they want, you give it to them. Pussy, mouth, hands, ass... no questions asked.”