Chapter 3
Vanika followed the stranger deeper into the bowels of the building like a lamb to the slaughter, her mind entirely blank to the warning bells screaming in her head.
Panic had completely paralyzed her reasoning. Why would Janet be so reckless? Where had she been rushing to? How deep was the gash on her head? Was she even conscious? The brutal questions kept hammering against the inside of her skull, pushing her into a blind frenzy.
She let out a ragged breath, forcing her legs to match the man’s aggressive pace. The realization hit her that the party was officially ruined.
A sick wave of relief washed over her since she had never wanted to go in the first place, followed instantly by a crushing guilt that it took Janet breaking her skull to grant her escape.
The thumping bass of the club began to mutate into a distant, muffled heartbeat as they crossed into a desolate, quiet wing of the building. The corridor was not too narrow, a row of heavy doors lined the right wall, while the left was a slab of blind, seamless concrete.
The hallway was a dead end, terminating at a single, reinforced metal door. Vanika’s brows knitted together, a cold drop of sweat rolling down her neck. She clearly remembered him saying the staff were treating Janet in the backyard.
Desperate for reassurance, she violently pushed her suspicions aside.
"Is that the door to the back?"
"Yes." The man’s clipped, monosyllabic response triggered a sudden burst of adrenaline.
Overtaking him, Vanika practically sprinted the last few feet and threw the metal door open without a single thought.
She stepped inside, and the air vanished from her lungs. This wasn't the backyard. It was a concrete vault.
The horror of the room hit her all at once. Two men were violently tearing the clothes off a screaming young girl. Four more snapped their heads toward the door the second she breached the frame. And crammed into the far corner of the room were roughly eight other girls.
Their mouths were sealed shut with thick layers of duct tape, their wrists and ankles bound tight, forcing them into a humiliating posture on the floor. Tears cut tracks through the grime on their faces, their eyes wide with unspoken terror. More importantly, none of them was Janet.
Vanika took a frantic step backward, the crushing weight of her mistake hitting her like a physical blow. She turned on her heel to flee into the corridor before the trap snapped shut, but the universe was already moving too fast. The stranger slipped into the room behind her and slammed the heavy metal door, the latch clicking home with a definitive, horrifying finality.
"Welcome... to my world, my dear."
The man’s voice had shed its easy warmth, warping into something deeply sinister. Vanika recoiled as he took a predatory step toward her, the friendly smile returning to his face like a grotesque mask. It sent a localized frost straight down her spine.
She kept retreating sideways until her shoulder blades collided with a wall. She froze. Before she could pivot away, the stranger lunged forward, his hands locking around her waist to yank her flush against his chest. A sharp, terrified gasp tore from her throat.
"Where do you think you are going? There's no escaping me, my dear."
"Where is my friend? You said she was injured! Where is she?" Vanika spat the words back, forcing a lethal glare through the sheer terror flooding her veins. Her heart vibrated violently against her ribs as she pushed against his chest, her fingers clawing at his grip in a useless display of resistance.
"Your friend?" He tilted his head, a sickening display of feigned ignorance bleeding into his expression. "I don't know what you are talking about."
Vanika flinched violently as he trailed the back of his knuckles down her cheek, a shudder of pure revulsion rocking her body as his fingers slid down to the sensitive skin of her throat.
"But what I do know is that you have some pricey goods here. Shall we take a look?"
Before she could say no, his hand hooked into the neckline of her dress and ripped it downward, tearing the fabric and exposing her bra covered boobs.
The world went white. Driven by pure survival instinct, Vanika drove her heel downward, driving the razor-sharp point of her stiletto directly into the bridge of his foot with every ounce of strength she possessed.
"Ahhh!" The man bellowed, a sharp hiss escaping his teeth as he instantly loosened his grip and stumbled backward.
He glared down at his ruined shoe, his face contorting as he measured the agony. When his eyes snapped back up to meet hers, they were bloodshot with pure, homicidal rage.
"You little bitch."
The words had barely left his mouth before his palm swung around in a blinding arc.
The slap was deafening. The impact numbed the entire side of Vanika’s face, sending a flash of static across her vision that left her blind for three horrific seconds.
Her piercing, agonizing shriek shattered the silence of the room, echoing straight through the heavy door and vibrating down the empty hallway.
Meanwhile, Ross had been trailing the pair from a calculated distance, his brow furrowed into a deep, uneasy scowl as he watched Vanika willingly follow the man into the shadows.
The predator was no stranger to Ross. His name was Brad. Since this club was frequented by them, they knew every regular, every dealer, and every human who traded in its dark corners.
They had never had a reason to interfere with Brad's operations before, but they could tell the man dealt in shady business. They weren't naive to the darkness of the mortal underworld.
What stumped him entirely was why Vanika was following a creature like Brad with such eager urgency. Did they have a history? A mutual connection? Ross's initial instinct had been to call out her name, but a sudden, uncomfortable thought made him pause. What if she was here willingly? What if she was involved with him?
The theory felt utterly wrong the moment it crossed his mind. Everything about her suggested innocence, but the visual evidence unfolding before his eyes was forcing him to question his judgment.
When the duo turned the corner into the final dead-end hallway, Ross killed his engine, his feet coming to a silent halt. He leaned his shoulder against the peeling wallpaper of the corner, tracking their shadows as they neared the heavy metal door.
A quiet, frustrated sigh slipped through his lips. He had given Derion his word that he would handle it, but standing here in the dark, he didn't know what to do. If this was a consensual, secret affair, calling her out would only humiliate her.
It made more sense to turn back, lay out the facts for Derion, and let the Alpha deal with the reality of his choices. After all, Derion had explicitly refused to acknowledge their bond.
Reaching a decision, Ross turned on his heel, his shoes charting a course back toward the neon pulse of the main room. He had barely cleared six paces when a sound pierced the concrete walls.
It was a scream, a raw, terrified, scream that was undeniably Vanika’s.
Ross froze instantly, his eyes dilating in the dark. He spun on his heel, his silent stance vanishing as he hurried back down the corridor toward the metal door.
