Chapter 11: Chapter Ten

THE LITTLE LAMB IN THE WOLVES’ DEN

Hunter’s POV

I sat behind my desk, the warm glow of the security monitors casting shadows across my face. Smoke curled from the cigar between my fingers, thick and slow like the poison coiling in my blood.

Mirabella.

She haunted me like a soft ghost, delicate and infuriating. Her innocent looks were like knives dipped in honey; sweet enough to lure, sharp enough to cut. I wanted to cut her back. Slowly. Deeply.

The door to my office opened without a knock—only one man would dare that. Tobias.

“Boss.” His voice was tight and serious. “We’ve got a problem.”

I blew smoke from my nostrils. “Speak.”

“One of the runners. Mickey. Was caught snorting and injecting product in the back lot behind the east hall.”

The ash fell from my cigar like the last nerve in my patience snapping.

“He dare used my supply?” I asked, my tone flat.

Tobias nodded. “Half a bag gone. He was twitching like a poisoned rat by the time we got to him in the old warehouse.”

A grin crawled slowly over my face, but it didn’t touch my eyes.

“How many times have I said it?” I rose from my chair, cracking my knuckles one at a time. “No one. Absolutely no one. Gets. High. On my shit. You peddle it. You protect it. But you don’t fucking taste it.”

I moved to the liquor cabinet, poured myself a glass of whiskey, and tossed it back.

“Put him in the cage,” I said coldly. “Lock it. Tell the boys to leave him there until I arrive. I’ll pay him a visit tonight.”

Tobias didn’t question it. He knew what to do.

“I’ll handle it,” he said, turning to leave.

“And Tobias?” I called after him.

He paused.

“Make sure he’s awake when I come.”

He nodded and left.

Mirabella’s POV

I arrived at the club at exactly 6:30 p.m., my stomach was a tangled mess of excitement and nerves. The email said 7:00, but I wanted to be early, to make a good first impression, show I was serious.

The entrance of Devil's Den looked different in the eveninglight, less like a club, more like a fortress of shadows. High glass doors, black marble steps, and golden inlay that looked like dripping blood in the moonlight.

Inside, it was dim and sensual, even without the crowd yet. The scent of leather, smoke, and a hint of something sweet—jasmine or vanilla—lingered in the air. The lights were low, casting warm ambers across deep velvet walls.

“Hey there, sweetheart.”

I recognize this voice. The voice came from behind the bar. An older man with kind gray eyes and a silver beard polished a glass, his rolled-up sleeves revealing faded tattoos on both arms. He looked like someone who’d seen too much, and yet still chose kindness. He was the man from the last two nights: the bartender.

“it’s you again.” he added with a smile.

“Yes, me again. I’m here for the interview,” I said, clutching my hand bag tighter. “And my name’s Mirabella.”

His eyes sparked. “Ah, so you applied to our club Huh? It's nice meeting you again… Mirabella, I’m Mario. He gave me a hand shake which I took.

“You see, I have been bartending this place since before you were born and it's nice having fresh blood over here.” He walked around the counter and gestured for me to follow. “Gabriel’s office is this way.”

We strolled slowly through the silent club. Without the music and bodies colliding, it looked like a beast asleep—waiting to wake.

“You nervous?” Mario asked, glancing at me.

“A little,” I admitted. “It’s my first real job.”

“You’ll be fine. Just stay sharp. Don’t trust too easy. And never go past the basement.”

I blinked. “What’s in the basement?”

Mario only smirked. “Rooms for guests who like their fun… a little more private.”

My cheeks warmed. “Noted.”

He stopped in front of a sleek black door with golden trim. “Gabriel’s in there. Good luck, sweetheart.” He gave my shoulder a reassuring pat and disappeared back toward the bar.

I took a breath, then knocked.

“Come in.”

The office was stylish but masculine. A clean desk. Dark walls. A single bottle of scotch and a half-filled glass sat beside a phone on the left, and a laptop was in the center. Behind the desk, a well-built man was sitted. Even though he was sitting, I could tell that he was very tall, with heavy muscles. He was well-dressed in a navy-blue suit.

“You’re… Mirabella?” he asked flipping through a phone.

“Yes, sir.”

When his eye looked up and met mine, he went stiff.

He blinked. Stared. Swallowed hard. “Shit.”

“Sorry?”

“No…I mean…sorry. You just… you’re not what I expected.”

Whatever that meant.

He cleared his throat, gesturing to the chair opposite his. “Sit.”

I did.

For a few seconds, he said nothing. Just kept looking at me like he’d seen a ghost or something worse.

“I need to make a call. I’ll be right back,” he managed to say.

Before I could speak, he stepped out of the room, with his phone already to his ear.

Hunter’s POV

My phone buzzed, vibrating against my desk.

“Yeah,” I answered.

“It’s Gabriel. Listen—the girl who is supposed to come in for the interview today is here.”

“What about her?”

Gabriel hesitated. “Boss… it’s her. The black-dress girl from two days ago. The one you… her name is Mirabella Antonio.”

My jaw flexed hearing her name.

“She’s here for the interview. Do I… say yes?”

I leaned back in my chair and smiled slowly.

“Hire her.”

“You’re sure?”

“Gabriel,” I said darkly. “She walked into the lion’s den. I’d be a fool not to close the door behind her.”

I hung up before he could say anything else.

Bella is now here. It's thrilling playing hide and seek with my temptress without her knowledge.

Gabriel returned with a tight smile.

“Congratulations,” he said. “You’re hired.”

I blinked. That was very fast. He didn't even ask me any questions.“Really?”

He nodded, though he looked a little pale. “Errh, You’ll be trained by one of our lead hostesses. Keep things classy. No drinks from guests, no touching, no private rooms unless cleared.”

“Got it,” I said, my heart thudding.

He nodded once. “You start tomorrow night. Seven sharp. No lateness. No distractions.”

“Uniforms are kept in the back. I’ll have someone show you around tomorrow night.”

I made my way out, walking back toward the front of the club. Mario was still behind the bar, cleaning glasses.

“Hey, girlie. You survived the lion’s den?”

“Barely,” I laughed. “But I got the job.”

He winked. “Told ya. You’ll do just fine here.”

“See you tomorrow then,” I said and made my way to the exit.

As I reached the door, someone stepped in front of me. Tall, stylish. Impossibly beautiful. A woman with caramel skin, waist-length red curls, and the most arresting emerald eyes.

“Mirabella, right?” she asked with a polite smile.

“Yes…?”

“I’m Saraphina, you can call me Phina.”

She offered a hand shake which I took.

“Gabriel’s woman. Gabriel told me someone was coming in today for an interview. He also said you caught someone's eyes. And I wanted to see for myself. I just wanted to say…good choice, coming here. You are a pretty one. You’ve got a face the crowd will love.”

I flushed. “Thank you.”

But I wonder what she meant by caught someone's eyes.

Was she referring to old Mario? He is the only one apart from Gabriel I have met so far in the club. Mario was only harmlessly friendly to me. But I brushed the thought off my mind.

She leaned in. “And just so you know, not all danger here wears blood on its hands. Some of them wear handsome faces. See you around.”

She walked off before I could ask what that meant.

Hunter's pov

Tobias had already done what I asked. The man was on his knees, head bent, wrists bound high above his head, ankles locked apart. Shirtless. Bleeding from the mouth. My boots echoed off the cold cement floor as I stepped inside, the door slamming shut behind me.

He looked up at me through swollen eyes. It was Mickey — one of the newer recruits. Not too new though. He had his head in the game. Fast. Obedient. Until now.

“You think I set up rules for decoration?” I asked quietly, peeling off my gloves. My voice didn’t rise. It never needed to. Fear bloomed better in silence.

“Boss… I… I didn’t mean to…”

A sharp, savage punch to his gut silenced him. He buckled, vomiting blood and bile.

I crouched before him, grabbing a fistful of his hair. “You get high on what I sell, you insult me. You become a liability. Weak. I don’t train weak men.”

“I swear… it was just one hit—”

“One hit?” I mocked, chuckling darkly. “One fucking hit? You took a needle in your arm with my product, snuff my shit, and you thought that wasn’t going to cost you?”

He didn’t answer. He was shaking.

I stood up, nodding to Tobias, who handed me the electric prod. Mickey screamed as I pressed it against his side, watching his body convulse like a salted live fish. I didn’t stop until the scent of scorched skin filled the air.

“I’m going to keep you alive,” I whispered. “Alive and hurting. That’s your penance. And if you ever touch my stash again…”

I let the silence hang before turning my back.

“Leave him,” I told Tobias. “Let him sit in his own piss tonight.”

I wiped my bloody hands with a cloth Tobias handed me and tossed it to the ground.

“Marcus’s match is still on tonight?” I asked as we exited the cage.

“Yes, boss. Rouder’s champion just arrived. The crowd's thick tonight. Full of anticipation”

“Good. Let them see what happens when they step into our ring.”

The underground ring buzzed with anticipation — testosterone, liquor, and the thrill of violence saturating the air. The crowd was thick, wild-eyed, and hungry for blood.

I stepped into the viewing box above the pit, where Tobias was already waiting with two other men — my acquaintances from the East Quarter.

“Devil!” one of them grinned, raising his glass.

“Ramos. Victor,” I acknowledged with a nod, sliding into the seat.

“Didn’t know you’d grace us tonight,” Ramos said, handing me a glass of aged whisky.

“Wouldn’t miss Marcus tearing Rouder’s bastard apart.”

Victor leaned forward. “Heard about Mickey. You dealt with him yet?”

I sipped. “Permanently.”

They grinned.

Below us, Marcus emerged into the pit — shirtless, muscles rippling with every movement, the word “Hell” tattooed across his chest.

The opposing fighter — a bit taller, leaner, with black ink across his jaw and neck — came from Rouder’s cult. Rouder wasn't present but I can see some of his men cheering from the crowd. Rouder wasn't exactly a friend, but we weren't at war either. The crowd roared as the bell rang, signaling that it was starting..

The fight was brutal.

Marcus didn’t hold back — every strike was savage, relentless. But the Rouder fighter was skilled. He dodged and landed brutal hits too. Blood flew. The floor turned slick with sweat and violence.

Tobias leaned toward me. “Wanna bet he ends it in three minutes?”

“No need,” I said flatly. “Marcus is already playing with him.”

Sure enough, two minutes later, Marcus got the Rouder fighter in a chokehold, within seconds, he was unconscious. The scream echoed.

Victor let out a whistle. “Your boys never disappoint.”

“They know who they belong to.”

The crowd chanted Marcus’s name, but all eyes flickered toward me — toward the man behind the madness.

I lit a cigarette, blowing smoke into the electric air. Victory was routine.

But my mind drifted.

Back to Gabriel’s call. His voice had trembled when he told me about the… “girl” in his words.

Mirabella.

My little doll had walked straight into my den once again. I smiled to myself.

She just gave me permission to play.