Page 19 of Duchess (Royal Harlots MC: National New York Chapter #1)

Duchess

T he dream had sunk in deep, dragging me under this darkness made of lust and pain and everything I never wanted to admit I craved.

There was no easing into it, just the rush of heat, the slam of sweaty loins, and the weight of him, Caleb, pressing me into the cold, unfamiliar wall of a place that didn’t matter. Nothing mattered but him.

His mouth crushed mine with the kind of hunger that split me open, his tongue forcing past my lips like he had every right to take it.

His hands were everywhere, fisting in my hair, gripping my ass, hauling me higher until my legs locked around his waist, my body begged without words.

I screamed as his cock filled me, thick and punishing, each thrust shaking the air from my lungs until I was choking on the pleasure, on the filth of it all.

I didn’t just moan his name, I screamed it.

Again and again, as if it were a chant, a plea, or maybe my own personal curse.

His teeth sank into my throat, roughly, and meant to hurt.

His fingers bruised my hips as he held me in place and fucked me like I was the one thing standing between him and his destruction.

And I loved it. I hated that I loved it.

I hated that I gave myself over so easily, arching into every slap of his hips, clawing down his back like I needed to mark him just as badly as he marked me.

Every inch of me responded to him, to the danger, the violence, the heat. It wasn’t just sex. It was surrender. It was annihilation dressed in sweat and skin and a kiss that still burned long after it was over.

And even in the dream, I knew it was wrong.

But that didn’t stop me from begging for more.

A scream ripped from my throat, sharp and loud, echoing off the walls like a fucking gunshot as I shot up off the pillows. My chest rose and fell in fast bursts, heart racing, drenched in sweat.

I blinked through the haze, disoriented, my body still pulsing with the aftershocks of arousal and shame.

My sheets were tangled around my ankles, twisted like I’d been fighting for my life or begging for my release.

My tits were bare, and a white substance lay on them.

I slowly slid my fingers through the creamy substance, completely grossed out.

My panties were wrapped around my ankles, and I figured I had pulled them down at some point during the dream.

I hated how good he still made me feel. Hated the way my body betrayed me every damn time. Caleb Killic had ruined me with a kiss once, and my dreams had never let me forget it.

"Fuck," I muttered, rubbing my hands over my face, trying to erase the way my skin still tingled where I thought he’d touched me.

That’s when a glint caught my eye.

A single gold coin rested on the pillow beside me.

My breath caught, frozen in my throat. I knew that coin.

I’d traced its edges once with my fingers, listened to him tell me about its weight, its meaning, how no one outside his family ever touched it.

It had been a quiet moment between us, rare in this lifetime of hate.

The Killic crest glinted in the low light, bold and unmistakable.

I sat up too fast, my head spinning.

There was a note folded next to it, written in the same sharp, brutal hand I remembered from the back of old invoices and secrets that we weren’t supposed to talk about, scrawled on restaurant napkins.

Finders keepers, sweetheart. I always find what’s mine.

The panic hit me like a blow to the gut.

I launched out of bed, heart hammering, while every nerve in my body screamed. I darted to my desk, yanked open the security monitor controls, fingers fumbling over the touchscreen as I pulled up the feed.

The screen showed nothing but a flicker of the same frame looping on repeat, an obvious override if you looked close enough. Someone had got in and made damn sure I wouldn’t see it happen.

My stomach twisted into a knot as the truth sank in. He had somehow planned this. How long had he been following me? Watching me?

I ran for the door, instincts kicking in as I yanked it open and scanned the lock. It was still engaged. The chain, untouched. But that didn’t matter. I ran to the back door and noticed it was ajar. Just enough for someone like Caleb to slip through.

The air rushed from my lungs, and my heart raced so hard I felt it in my throat.

He’d been here. In my apartment. In my bed. With his hands on my body while I slept, dreaming of him fucking me, not realizing he already had his hold on me in the most twisted way.

I stumbled back, gripping the counter behind me to keep from collapsing under the weight of what that meant. All those dreams, all those filthy fantasies that haunted my nights, weren’t just in my head. They were echoes of him. Warnings I’d ignored.

And now I knew, with bone-deep certainty, that he’d found me.

Caleb Killic had breached every wall I’d built. Every line I drew. And now?

Now everything was going to go to shit.

An hour later, I was sitting in the Rouge Roulette, tucked into the corner of Rhea’s office with a bottle of water I hadn’t touched, clutched in my hand.

My legs bounced uncontrollably, adrenaline still coursing through me.

Rhea was on the phone with Obsidian, pacing behind her desk, looking furious.

They were trying to figure out how the hell Caleb had gotten past our security, how he’d walked into my bedroom like he fucking owned it. I wasn’t hearing the details anymore. My brain kept looping at that single image, his coin. That fucking note.

The door slammed open with enough force to shake the walls. We both looked up, startled.

Paramore was standing at the doorway, breathless and pale, like she’d seen the devil himself. Her eyes locked on mine, wide and stricken, and I knew whatever it was, it was bad.

"Paramore?" My voice cracked. I set the water down and crossed the room. "What is it?"

She hesitated. Swallowed hard. "We found her."

My stomach turned to ice. "Jinx?"

Her lips trembled, and the tears came fast. "Sh-she’s dead."

“No,” I whispered, already backing up, shaking my head like that would change what I’d just heard. “Where?”

“You don’t want to know,” she whispered.

“Paramore.” My voice dropped, low and sharp. “You need to tell us. Now.”

She grabbed my arm like it was the only thing keeping her upright, her grip trembling. "Outside."

Rhea stepped forward. “Out—what?”

“In the dumpster,” Paramore choked. “Outside the club.”

The world spun as both Rhea and I looked at one another. She didn’t wait. Neither did I. We ran down the stairs into the main floor and rushed to the back exit, shoving the door open, the stench of the alley punching me in the face. Beer, urine, and the unmistakable stench of rotting flesh.

A car was parked crooked, hazards flashing like some kind of sick beacon.

We moved toward the side of the dumpster, the buzz of the hazards flashing behind us sending an eerie light our way. Rhea reached for my hand, and I didn’t even realize I’d grabbed her back until we rounded the corner and saw her.

Jinx was there, tucked into herself like a child, as if curling up could have protected her from the brutal way they’d taken her out.

Her body lay beside the metal bin, half in the shadows, her heels the only thing sticking out.

They’d wanted to hide her, but didn’t care enough to finish the job.

Bruises marred her arms and neck; raw welts pressed into her skin.

Her eyes were open, wide and glassy, staring into nothing, like whatever was left of her had left long before her last breath.

A sharp gash, filled with dried blood, scarred her neck.

We stood in silence, every muscle in my body locked up, stomach twisting. I wanted to touch her, to close her eyes, but I couldn’t move.

I couldn’t fucking breathe.

It was her mouth that stole the breath from my lungs. It was sewn shut. CA crude fishing line threaded through her lips, twisted into a mockery of a smile.

I staggered back, hand catching the wall as my knees threatened to go out. "Fuck."

"The Turks did this," Paramore growled from behind us, her voice a mix of grief and fury. "She left with them. I know it."

"They knew," I said, my voice barely more than a rasp. "They knew who she was working for."

Paramore nodded, wiping her tears with the back of her hand. "This isn’t just any hit. Whoever did this was fucking sending a message."

I turned from Jinx’s body, bile burning the back of my throat.

“That’s it!” Rhea snapped, her curls bouncing, voice cracking with rage. “This shit ends now. We leave. Tonight.”

"Rhea, wait," she pulled away from my hand and turned on me.

She pointed at Jinx, fury sharpening every word. “You want that to be one of us next? Because that’s where we’re headed. And you know it."

Everything inside me coiled tight, sharp like a blade. “I didn’t bring this down on us. He did. The Turks did. They started this.”

“No,” Rhea shot back. “You poked the fucking bear. For five years. We told you to pull back. Told you to stop. You didn’t listen.”

I straightened my spine, the heat of anger buried in my chest. “I’m not afraid of him.”

“Then you’re a fucking fool,” Rhea said, stepping toe-to-toe with me. “Because I am. I’m afraid for every girl in this club. For all of us. You want to die? Fine. But don’t drag us into the grave with you.”

The alley fell into a tense silence as Demise emerged through the side door, her heels clicking against the pavement. Her face was unreadable, her voice like steel.

“We need to call it in. Now. If we don't, we'll be blamed.”

Rhea turned to me. "Enough is enough, Stephanie. Call Jameson. Take the deal and let's go."

"If I leave, he wins."

"You both have some sick shit going on between you, I get that. But this is not the way. If it was Caleb who did this, he needs to pay. And if it isn't, then whoever this is, they’re not out to play games."

I heard the sirens in the distance as I stood there, staring into Jinx's empty, judging eyes.