Page 31

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Enzo

Another girl approached Steve, her eyes cast down submissively, dark hair falling forward to partially obscure her face.

Her pulse fluttered visibly at her throat like ripples across water.

“Would you like a private dance?” She had to almost shout to be heard above the pounding music.

The scent of fear clung to her skin beneath cheap perfume.

Steve glanced over at me, one eyebrow raised in silent question.

I nodded, the movement barely perceptible, but the look I gave him spoke volumes: be ready for anything.

My fingers drummed once on the sticky table—a code we’d agreed on earlier for potential ambush.

His eyes hardened in understanding, the predator within coming alert.

The blonde girl stood before me, her painted smile never reaching her eyes. I noticed fresh bruises on her wrist, dark against her pale skin—someone’s fingerprints marked into her flesh. She tilted her head in a practiced gesture of seduction, but her racing heartbeat betrayed her terror.

“Would you please allow me to dance for you?” she repeated, her voice carrying an odd formality, like rehearsed lines. Her eyes darted briefly toward Fremont, who watched our exchange with unsettling intensity from across the room.

I leaned back in my chair, projecting casual indifference while my senses cataloged every detail of our surroundings—the positions of Maximo’s men, the exits, the weight of the blade concealed against my ankle.

The club suddenly seemed quieter, the music fading as my focus sharpened.

A trap was springing closed around us, but perhaps it would lead me to what I needed to know.

“Lead on,” I said coolly, rising to my full height. I towered over her, watching as she visibly swallowed. I gestured for her to precede me down the darkened hallway that led to the private rooms, noting how her hands trembled slightly as she turned away.

As we moved through the club, I caught Steve’s eye one final time. His almost imperceptible nod confirmed what I already knew—if this went sideways, we’d drain every worthless human in the room before they could even scream.

Duncan kept his eyes on me as I followed the girl, his gaze boring into my back like a laser. His fingers tapped a subtle rhythm against his thigh—a signal to someone I couldn’t see. The trap was being set, but little did they know they were the ones truly being hunted tonight.

The girl led me down a narrow hallway reeking of cheap cologne, spilled alcohol, and the unmistakable musk of lust. Bass from the main room vibrated through the thin walls, making the tacky artwork shake slightly.

Red light bathed everything in a hellish glow, casting elongated shadows across the worn carpet.

She unlocked a door marked “VIP” with trembling fingers, the key scraping against the lock twice before sliding home. With practiced movements that betrayed how many times she’d performed this routine, she gestured me inside.

The room was small and claustrophobic, with a single padded chair positioned in the center like a throne for the desperate.

Mirrors covered every wall, multiplying our reflections into infinity—a vampire surrounded by endless copies of himself and a terrified human.

The irony wasn’t lost on me. The air was heavy with disinfectant, though it barely masked the scents of previous occupants.

She started to dance around me seductively, her movements mechanical and rehearsed. Her heartbeat betrayed her nervousness—a rapid, fluttering tempo that sang to the predator within me. Sweat beaded along her collarbone despite the room’s chill, carrying the salty scent of fear.

I remained standing, my shoulders blocking the door completely. The soft click as I turned the lock echoed in the small space. “Do you know who I am?” My voice cut through the tinny music playing from hidden speakers, stopping her mid-movement.

She froze, confusion falling across her face like a shadow. Her heavily mascaraed eyes widened slightly, pupils dilating with a fresh surge of adrenaline. “No,” she whispered, as her gaze darted toward the now-blocked exit.

“I’m Enzo DiSalvo.” I let my name sink into her mind, watching as recognition dawned in her eyes. Her pulse jumped, the vein in her neck throbbing visibly—an unwitting invitation I chose to ignore, for now.

Her breath caught, chest rising and falling rapidly beneath her sequined top. She took an instinctive step backward, her spine pressing against the mirrored wall. “You’re the Santi enforcer?” The question came out as a strangled whisper, color draining from her already pale face.

“Yes. I am.” I closed the distance between us in one fluid movement, too fast for human eyes to track properly.

She flinched as I clasped her shoulders, demanding her attention with unwavering eye contact.

Her skin was fever-warm against my cool touch, trembling beneath my fingertips.

“I have some questions. Let’s start with a simple one. How old are you?”

I used compulsion just to break down some of her barriers without hurting her. Her eyes turned glossy.

“Sixteen.”

I swore softly underneath my breath as centuries of controlled rage simmered beneath my carefully maintained facade.

The mirrors reflected my expression from every angle—multiplying my growing fury into infinity.

Maximo, Duncan—they were scum, preying on the young like this. They were worse than the animals.

I lifted her chin with one finger, noting how she instinctively flinched at the touch before forcing herself to remain still. Her eyes—green with flecks of gold—were old beyond their years, windows to trauma no child should know. “What happened to you?”

“I was walking home from school...” The words tumbled out in a whisper, as if speaking too loudly might summon the monsters who’d taken her. She lowered her head, blonde hair falling forward to hide her face, shoulders curving inward protectively. “And I was taken.”

The mirrors reflected her trapped expression from every angle—a kaleidoscope of terror multiplied infinitely around us.

“Now tell me about some of Maximo’s other girls. I want information on a specific girl. Tell me about Joy DuPont. Do you know her?” I watched her face carefully for any flicker of recognition. “Do you know her?”

“Yes.” Her face paled to an ashen gray, blood draining so quickly I could hear the change in her circulation.

Her eyes seemed to grow wider, pupils dilating with fresh fear.

“But it’s forbidden to talk about her.” She backed up slowly until her spine pressed against a mirror, the cool glass fogging slightly from her body heat.

The mention of Joy sent a predatory focus through me, instantly sharpening my senses. Every muscle in my body tensed, the hunter within me suddenly alert. I controlled my expression carefully, but my fingers flexed involuntarily at my sides, nails threatening to extend into claws.

“Why?” I took a deliberate step closer, my reflection multiplying in the mirrors surrounding us, creating the illusion of an army closing in.

“Because she’s his favorite. He moved out of his house to protect her.

Because someone was trying to find her.” Her lower lip trembled, a small quiver that betrayed her terror at breaking Maximo’s code of silence.

Her heartbeat thundered in my ears, rapid as a hummingbird’s wings. “You’re the…the one looking for her.”

Time seemed to slow as her words registered.

His favorite. The possessive term ignited something primal and violent within me.

My vision sharpened, the edges of the room taking on a reddish tint as ancient instincts surged to the surface.

The thought of Joy in Maximo’s hands, labeled as his “favorite,” sent a wave of protective fury through me that was almost dizzying in its intensity.

My hand pressed against the mirror beside her head, the glass creaking slightly under pressure. “Yes. Where is she?”

“I don’t... I don’t know.” She avoided looking at me, betraying her lie. She rubbed her wrists unconsciously, a gesture of self-comfort that drew my attention to the thick makeup there. The movement released a faint medicinal scent—antibiotic cream beneath the cosmetics.

I gently picked up her wrist, my cold fingers encircling her fragile bones.

She tensed but didn’t pull away, frozen like prey that knows escape is impossible.

With my thumb, I brushed off the makeup with a deliberate stroke, revealing ugly welts beneath—raw, red abrasions that formed perfect circles around her wrists.

The marks of chains, still fresh enough to be painful.

“Did someone hurt you?” I kept my voice soft, at odds with the rage building within me. Children had always been a line I refused to cross, even in my darkest days.

She licked her lips nervously, the gloss catching the light, and wiped away a tear that had carved a path through her heavy foundation. The salt-scent of it reached my nostrils, mingling with the fear that poured from her in waves. “Y-y-yes.”

“Did Fremont do this?”

Her heartbeat stuttered erratically, a rhythm of pure terror. She shook her head violently. “I told you I can’t tell you.”

“Let me guess what you trying not to tell me—Fremont told you to try to seduce me and find out information.”

“He wants to know if you’re still looking for Joy.” She pulled on her wrist and I released her.

I pushed more with my compulsion. “What did he threaten you with?”

She swallowed hard, throat working visibly as she said in a dead pan voice, “That he would take my sister. She’s only fourteen and still in middle school. I have to stay here to protect her.”

The scent of her youth—still carrying traces of childhood beneath the club’s grime—confirmed her words. Sixteen and fourteen. Children. The predator within me receded, replaced by something I’d thought long dead: protective instinct.

“Tell me what I want to know and I can protect you and your sister.” The promise fell from my lips before I could consider its implications, but I knew as I spoke that I would honor it. I rip apart bodies, not innocent souls.