Chapter 2 Blood at the Juke

I barely slept after the stranger's warning.

“The Overlord does not ask twice.”

Those words stayed in my head all morning like a curse.

I stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the high-collared coat until the fabric clung to me in all the right places. 

The coat was cut sharp, stitched in black with threads of crimson, a Baron's attire made for power and menace rather than comfort.

I paired it with a heavy golden chain, then came the cologne—the most dangerous weapon in my arsenal.

This wasn't just perfume. This was heavenly. If you smelled it, you'd fall to your knees, lost in its fragrance forever.

So, naturally, I sprayed the hell out of myself. Once, twice, five times, until the room turned into a gas chamber of sweet death. 

My lungs cried for mercy. I coughed, clutching my chest dramatically.

I could have died. I just wanted to impress Yohanan not send myself to the gates of heaven.

I staggered to the window, flung it open, and inhaled like a drowning man breaking the surface. Slowly, the fog of death drifted out, and my heart calmed.

Finally, I was ready. Ready to see my lady.

Yohanan Veylor 

Just then, an automobile honked outside. My mother's voice followed, loud enough to scare everyone in the huge Fortress.

"Widen, Zack is here!" she screamed at the top of her lungs.

"Coming down in five!" I shouted back, already admiring myself again in the mirror.

Damn, I was handsome. I grinned at my reflection, striking a pose. My rod rose with pride, always standing at attention when duty called. Don't blame me for saying it, it means a lot to me.

Satisfied, I marched down the stairs like a king heading to battle.

My mother was standing by the door. She looked worried, but when her eyes landed on me, she forced a smile. I could tell it was fake, but I let her have it. 

"Have a great day, my son, and bring that girl home for a perfect dinner tomorrow night," she said warmly.

I hugged her back. Who knew there would never be a perfect dinner tomorrow. We were just been delusional.

Outside, Zack, my best friend and owner of the most famous Juke in all of Goshen, waited for me. He puffed in a cigarette which made the inside of the automobile looked like a smokehouse.

"Do you have to smoke?" I asked, frowning as I waved the toxic cloud away.

"Sorry," he said, flicking the cigarette—only for it to land on my well tailored coat.

I screamed and panicked, swatting at the ember before it ruined my masterpiece.

"You fucker!"

"I'm sorry!" he yelped, slapping at me like he was putting out a fire.

Everything was supposed to be perfect for Yohanan and this clown almost burned me alive.

"You're lucky it didn't leave a mark," I growled, shooting him a death glare.

We drove to the Juke in silence. The place was a rough lively tavern where townsfolk came to drink, gamble, and listen to music. 

When we arrived at the entrance, the doorman spotted us immediately. His frown vanished the second he recognized me. Who doesn't know the Baron's son with the big rod?

"Come on in, Baron's son," the doorman said, tapping me on the back like we were best friends.

Inside, the music was pounding, women were moving their hips like sinners in a secret society. Normally, I'd have taken my time enjoying the view. But tonight? Tonight was Yohanan's night.

I scanned the room but there was no sign of her. Was she playing hide and seek again? Ugh, disgusting. Such a huge turn-off. I pretended to enjoy the crowd, but really, all I wanted was her. 

Zack had already disappeared into the crowd, probably chasing women like the rookie he was, I was his master. When it comes to women, I knew them too well.

Then, the Juke herald's voice boomed out like thunder.

"Performing tonight is none other than the beautiful, amazing, special, and Goshen's angel, Yohanan Veylor!"

Finally.

She appeared, the woman I had waited for, the one who had stolen my heart at first sight. My little heart nearly leapt out of my chest and the world seemed to narrow to her alone.

Yohanan walked to the platform in heels and a black gown that fit like it was woven by the gods. Every step was measured, elegant and dangerous. Would this woman be the one to finally end my playboy days?

The guitar strummed. She began to sing.

I was lost, mesmerized and so was everyone else. Men stared with hungry eyes, and my blood boiled. How dare they? Couldn't they see she was mine?

I stood in front of the platform. Her eyes met mine. She smiled.

When she sang, "somebody save me from these chains" and ran her hand through her hair, playing with her gown while swaying to the rhythm, my knees nearly buckled.

What was this woman doing to me?

She was driving me loco.

Loco. I screamed in my thoughts.

When the song ended, the crowd roared with applause. Men threw money at her, their eyes undressing her greedily. 

"Bunch of irritating bastards." I muttered under my breath.

She slipped off the stage and headed straight to the jukehand to get a drink. Like the bad boy I was, I followed.

"Yohanan," I called. 

"You came," she said, her lips curling into a sly smile as she sat on the wooden chair.

"A shot, please," she ordered.

"Make it two," I said quickly.

"You're paying." She tugged playfully at my collar.

"I am the Baron's son. All drinks on me tonight, damsel." I kissed her arm, it was soft and smelled faintly of roses.

"You were amazing out there."

"I know. I could see your gaze all over me, it was pretty obvious," she teased.

I smiled, caught red-handed.

"Baron's son, what brought you here? Isn't this too local and poor for people like you?"

"I came for you," I answered without hesitation. Who else would drag me into a place like this?

"Hmm." She smirked and knocked back another shot.

We stared at each other, sparks flying.

"Do you want to get out of here?" I asked.

"Not so fast, Baron's son. I am not cheap."

I raised my hands innocently. I wasn't asking for that. Not yet. The joke was loud and clear.

"Why don't we dance first, then get out of here," Yohanan suggested.

I grinned and nodded.

We stepped onto the dance floor. The bass thumped, the lights flickered. She pressed against me, moving in sync, hips grinding with mine.

We danced, we kissed. A deep, lingering kiss that burned like fire.

For once, I felt alive. Yohanan was different. She was a mystery, unpredictable, a riddle I wanted to spend forever solving.

The night was perfect.

As we kissed, a man stumbled onto the dance floor, his body was full of blood, broken with bones popping out of his skin. He was barely standing. I recognized this man, he worked at the cotton field in the fortress.

Gasps rippled through the crowd.

"I seek the Baron's son," he shivered before collapsing to his knees.

I rushed to him. "What's going on?"

"They are coming," he gasped, blood bubbling at his lips. "The Baron and Baroness… they are in danger!"

My chest tightened. My parents?

Zack appeared, his eyes were wide. "What's going on?"

I couldn't answer. My mind was racing. Trying to figure out what was going on? . 

Then the main horror came, outside, tires screeched loud enough to rattle the windows. 

The sound cut through the smoky air, and the dogs chained along the street erupted into frantic barking. 

Inside, the noise silenced every voice. Men playing cards hit the table mid-game, the jukehand froze with his glass halfway polished, his eyes darting to the door. A woman clutched her drink tighter with pale knuckles.

Fear spread fast. Men who had been laughing moments ago shifted uneasily on their stools. 

Someone whispered, "They are not from this town…" but no one dared to answer.

Then the slam of car doors followed, heavy boots crunching on the gravel. The room held its breath instantly.

I ran to the window and froze. A group of men, clad head to toe in black with soot-covered carriages and battered old automobiles.

Their movements were silent and precise, and weapons gleamed under the flickering lights—guns, daggers, short swords, and cruel-looking tools that promised death.

They look familiar and yes I knew them. The same men who had been at the Fortress arguing with my father about the cotton field.

"We have a problem," the cottonfield worker whispered slowly still clutching his wounds.

"Lock the doors!" Zack shouted.

"They are not from this town," Yohanan whispered, fear darkening her face.

The doors rattled as fists pounded against them. Then, a voice thundered outside,

"We are not here to harm anyone. We just want the Baron's son. Release him, and you all will survive tonight."

Silence swallowed the Juke and all eyes turned to me.

Hello? I won't become the sacrificed pig for tonight. Touch me, and I'll kill someone.

I grabbed the cottonfield man. "What is going on?"

"The Overlord made the town his target… they're at the Fortress now… I barely escaped."

"And my parents?" I asked trembling .

"I don't know." He whispered.

I sucked in deep breaths trying to calm myself but the lingering terror still cling to me, the fear had already rooted itself in my bones.

"I have to go find them," I said.

"Widen, you can't leave. These people look dangerous," Zack warned.

"My parents are out there, Zack. I can't stay here."

My voice shook.

"These people are here for destruction, we need to leave now. My father built a tunnel in the Juke."

Zack's voice barely a whisper.

"If he leaves, they'll kill us all!" someone shouted.

And then the voice outside returned, cold and merciless,

"We will count to five. If you don't release the Baron's son, everyone dies."

The men meant business and gunshots blasted through the windows. 

The glass shattered in a rain of shards, spraying across the dance floor. 

The men outside opened fire without hesitation. Bullets tore through tables, bottles, and flesh. A woman at the serving bench was hit in the throat, the sound she made was a wet gargle before blood sprayed from her mouth as she collapsed against the bench.

"Get down!" Zack screamed, but it was already too late for many.

A bullet ripped through the chest of the Juke herald throwing him backward into his equipment in a spray of sparks and blood. 

Two men who had been cheering for Yohanan a moment ago were riddled with bullets, their bodies jerking violently before falling like a ragdoll.

Screams filled the air, deafening ones. People shoved each other, climbing over tables, crawling on their bellies to escape. 

The stench of gunpowder mixed with the coppery tang of blood until the whole Juke smelled like a slaughterhouse.

I crawled on the sticky floor, shielding Yohanan with my body as wood splinters and glass cut into my arms.

A man just inches from me took a bullet to the head—the back of his skull erupted, spraying brain and blood across the wall. 

"They're killing everyone!" someone screamed, their voice breaking before a bullet tore through their spine, snapping them in half.

People shrieked, cried, staggered. Some tried to fight back with bottles and chairs, but they were gunned down mercilessly. A chair flew across the room and shattered, and the man who threw it was riddled with holes in return.

Zack ducked behind an overturned table, firing wildly with a pistol he somehow produced out of nowhere but the return fire forced him down. The wooden table cracked as bullets tore through it.

"The tunnel!" Yohanan whispered, her hands trembling as she clung to me.

I dragged her low, crawling past the lifeless bodies. My hands pressed into warm blood pooling across the floor.

A woman lay across my path, her stomach was torn open. I gagged but pulled Yohanan over her body anyway—there was no time to stop.

At the back of the juke, more men broke through the main doors. They stormed in with machetes and guns, cutting down anyone who hadn't already been shot.

A man tried to run for the exit but was cut down, his arm hacked clean off as he screamed in agony before a gunshot silenced him forever.

We reached the tunnel door, but it was blocked by a rusted iron bar.

Zack smashed it again and again with a broken stool, until finally the bar snapped loose.

"Go!" he yelled.

We slipped into the tunnel, crawling through the darkness as the massacre raged on behind us. Every sound, the gunfire, the shattering glass, the endless screaming—seared itself into my memory.

By the time we emerged into the night air, my hands and clothes were drenched in blood that wasn't mine.

We ran, never looking back, but I knew the smell of the juke that turned into a slaughterhouse would haunt me forever.

We had survived one horror, but had no idea there was a bigger one ahead.

I was not prepared for this.

I turned back and realized someone was missing.

"Where is Zack?"