Chapter 151

"Lia, are you listening to me?"

"Where does Blake live?" I asked, setting the cup down and getting up.

"North of Olympus." Her eyes scanned my face. "Why?"

"Don't you have an exact address?"

"We don't talk, remember? She's weird, despite everything."

I scratched the back of my neck.

"I need to go."

"What?" Penélope followed my movements, walking quickly behind me. "But why?"

I inhaled deeply.

"Don't leave the house alone, especially not at night. If something happens to me, don't go to the police. If they ask how close we are, tell them we had an argument a week ago because I messed around with your boyfriend. Since then, you and Kay have been ignoring me."

"What?"

I couldn't give a better explanation, but it had to be enough. My sprint out of the building almost made me fall. I called for a taxi to take me to the train station, as it was far and the overcast sky seemed to insist on a rainstorm and thunder later.

When I arrived at the station, the crowd blocked my way. It was rush hour, so there was a cross-section of people all busy hurrying to get where they needed to be, but certainly none of them felt threatened with death.

However, I stopped when I realized they were more entertained by the TV than paying attention.

I moved closer, nudging some elbows with mine, but keeping my focus on the screen.

The disgust that invaded my stomach felt like an old acquaintance. Dangerous, devouring, bitter, and painful. My pupils dilated, darkening any lighter part of my iris.

The surprise and terror on everyone’s faces as they watched the TV didn’t compare to the horror that burned through my blood. My veins tightened, afraid my heart would receive more blood than it could handle and explode.

What the hell?!

The two police officers I had filed a report against before being with Torman had their heads hanging at the top of my house. Their eyes were wide open, the edges of their necks bleeding profusely, showing it had been a recent death.

I didn’t know what to think, really. My mind was chaotic, with no clear direction. Dante was alive, which eased something inside me, but it also sparked a much greater fear.

They never showed up in the morning. It was always at night. In secret. They never made it clear to the public that they really existed. They were an urban legend.

But I had pissed them off, especially Dante. I had made them hunt me in the morning, without fear of what could happen. They had given me one last warning, and I was playing with my own life.

Norman was my last chance. A shot in the dark. Without him, I could die.

***

Unlike the city center, the North of Olympus was populated by birdsong, the silent sound of bicycle wheels circling the streets, and the happy laughter of children leaving school.

Although it seemed suspicious, I changed clothes after stealing a few pieces from a fair that was being organized and took a shower at the train station itself. Thank the gods there was a public bathroom with a shower.

The sleep hadn't gone away, which forced me to beg for free coffee at a restaurant. My charm convinced the waiter of something, but I had already slipped away before he came back to ask for it back.

I asked anyone who passed by if they knew where Christian Normam lived, but no one knew for sure. The hope and anger of assuming that my entire trip might have been in vain made me feel nauseous. In addition, hunger began to call in my stomach.

That's when I thought of solving this problem by going directly to the police station. Of course, the same crap could happen as when I met Torman, but I would be more cautious.

But what if they already knew who I was? What if they were already looking for me here too?

I couldn’t give up. It was this or nothing.

I continued searching, asking for directions as the nightfall began. After a long walk, I was led to a mansion, white gates covering what seemed to be a huge backyard and a luxurious mansion.

"Are you looking for someone?"

An elderly woman with gray hair, a hunched back, and a cane supporting her journey approached.

I hesitated to tell the truth, but she didn’t seem like a person who would do harm.

"I’m looking for a police officer. His name is Christian Norman. Do you know him?"

"Oh, I know him. He’s one of the kindest men I’ve ever met," she revealed. "But he's not here."

"Do you know where I can find him?"

"In Rome."

I frowned, lost.

"Rome?"

"You know the saying. All roads lead to Rome. Your destiny is there," she said enigmatically. "It’s one of the darkest places in the world. Where everyone is, and at the same time, no one. Where crime prevails, sins are confessed, and Lucifer rules. It’s the most beautiful and coldest Hell."

My expression was undoubtedly exaggerated.

"Although I do appreciate your poetic side, I’m really in a hurry."

Her wrinkled cheeks tightened.

The old woman stepped a bit closer.

"Take a bus to Júlio Street. You’ll see little symbols that look like an inverted triangle. Follow them and you'll reach Rome."

She smiled lovingly again, sighing as if recalling things that brought her peace. I could imagine she was an elegant woman in other times.

"Thank you," I murmured, thinking about the few coins I had to get on a bus.

"You shouldn’t thank me."

Her steps echoed through the suburb as she continued on her path.

What seemed like a warning had an effect, but I didn’t have time to waste on conclusions.

I searched for a nearby bus stop, asking how to get to Júlio Street. With some pleading, I managed to get on the bus without paying, and in half an hour, I arrived at the fateful street.

Inverted triangles.

I searched the corners, looking for the symbol until I noticed they were secretly drawn on the signs of some stores, posters, walls, and even the ground.

With nightfall now taking over the street, I had to stay alert for possible predators that might be walking around. Keeping my eyes on the triangles, I arrived at a shop still open at that hour.

I entered, somewhat suspicious. The musty smell of archaic objects, piled crates, and crystallized dust made me feel like I was in the wrong place.

"Do you need something?"

The man at the counter, wearing thick prescription glasses and a poorly groomed beard, closed his magazine and scrutinized me.

"I want to get to Rome."

His eyes changed color.

What was once a calm blue turned into a gas turbine.

He stepped out from behind the counter, walking briskly. That sounded like danger.

"Who are you?" he asked, intimidating.

"I... I just want to get to Christian Norman."

Shit. I shouldn’t have said that, but I wasn’t prepared to feel this pressure.

"You…" He seemed to sniff me, his indecency governing the movement of his eyes. "What do you want?"

I dug my fingers into my palm, my nerves twisting my fibers and leaving me still.

"Revenge. I want revenge."

Maybe that was a magic word because his attitude changed, his shoulders relaxing, and the bad-guy posture returning to the innocent, good-looking face he had been carrying just seconds ago.

"Go through that door." His finger pointed to a regular door behind some shelves. "And don’t leave unless you’re authorized."

I nodded.

It didn’t take long before I entered and descended countless stairs that made my legs tire. With each step, dialogues, laughter, and the sound of glasses became more audible. Moans and screams clearly coming from men and women having sex with each other made my stomach twist.

There were several floors below the ground level, with locked doors and curtains hiding what was going on behind them.

I saw women in lingerie walking back and forth, analyzing me as if I were out of place. They smelled of money, sex, and femininity.

My sweatshirt covered every inch of skin, giving me a look of being careless. My hair had always been criticized in this sense as well. I already carried the fact that I was black, and adding that I had voluminous curly hair and dark circles didn’t please beauty critics—there wasn’t much to escape from.

I reached the last floor, feeling the air struggle to reach my lungs.

A man in a black suit, with a posture as compact as a rock, analyzed me.

"Name."

I didn’t hesitate.

"Sophia Evans."

"We don’t have any women on our list by that name."

I narrowed my eyes.

"I don’t work here."

His size became even more threatening. A gun appeared from his waistband, and I trembled.

"None of our clients are women. Especially not someone like you."

Oh.

"Your friend up there said I could come down because I’m looking for Christian Norman."

"What?" he growled, spitting in my face violently.

I took two steps back, considering a quick run to go back up and get out of there. However, someone leaned on my shoulders, and a seductive scent invaded my nostrils.

"Sophia, you came so fast. You should’ve waited for me." I looked at her sideways, disoriented. "Pow-Pow, I told you about her. She’s an aspirant who wants to work here. She’ll help Cleo at the bar."

"Why is she dressed like that?"

She shrugged, trying not to open her mouth to harm us further. I didn’t understand her help, but those questions would come later.

"Strip," he ordered, messing with my mind.

"What?" I exclaimed.

"I said strip or you’ll die."

"Pow-Pow…"

"Don’t use your Red status for the benefit of your friends, Clarisse. Rules are rules."

She stepped back slightly, signaling me to obey him. I noticed her platinum blonde hair, sea-colored eyes, and a body sculpted in red lace lingerie, matching red heels, silk stockings, and hooks assisting in the decoration.

"Hurry," she said, the gun swinging in her hand.

My throat tightened.

I decided to start by taking off my sweater, sighing deeply. Dante wouldn’t mind doing that. In fact, he’d easily strip to fuck with my life. So I’d have to have that courage. It was just my body. Nothing unforgettable.

"What kind of party is this, and they didn’t invite me?" A male figure descended the stairs with two girls in white lingerie. "Your friend, Red?"

The blonde woman trying to help me crossed her arms.

"An apprentice. Pow-Pow wants to analyze her."

"Hmm. Very beautiful, I’d say," he said, going up and down parts of my body with his gaze. I felt more exposed than when I was about to strip in front of the security guard. "She’s coming with me."

"She’s my apprentice," Clarisse growled. "Sophia will just follow protocol and then get dressed with me."

"I’ll pay for you, girl." His voice smelled like whiskey, disgusting and venous. "I’ll give you more than you’d get if you worked here for fifty years. More than a Red."

The problem was, I had no idea what they were talking about. I wanted to dare to ask what a Red was, but that would only get me into more trouble. So, I decided to play along, creating a character I wasn’t.

"I want to."

His dry mouth sent shivers down my spine.

"Clarisse, dress her. I’ll take care of something before."

The woman violently pulled my arm.

"What are you doing here, especially on a Sunday?" she asked, guiding me through the crowded space filled with tables, various women walking in lingerie, and corrupt men being satisfied.

Many were in their forties, dressed properly as if it were an opening party. The bar was in the middle, with drinks from various brands served by young girls in black underwear.

A huge stage closed by red curtains marked that big shows were held there. And I knew what kind of shows they were.