Chapter 84 GUEST AND GUNS
Emily woke to darkness pressing against her eyelids. She dragged herself upright on the edge of the stroller, one palm pressed hard to her temple as if she could squeeze the fog out of her skull.
“What… happened?” Fragments of memory flashed: The screeching tires, shattering glass, the sickening crunch of metal folding in on itself. Then nothing, everything went blank.
She hissed through her clenched teeth as fresh pain spiked behind her eyes sharp.
Across the room, Jolie slammed her fists against the metal door repeatedly.
“Let us out!”
Her scream bounced off the walls and died. No footsteps, no one was answering
She pressed her ear to the cold steel, straining for any sound, breathing, keys, anything.
But only the wind answered.
Jolie groaned, defeated, and walked back to the narrow bed. She dropped onto the bed like her bones had turned to lead.
“Where the hell are we?” Emily whispered.
Her face was a roadmap of scratches: red lines crisscrossing cheeks and forehead. Bandages wrapped both her hands. A deep, ugly black bruise bloomed across the side of her stomach, the kind that whispered internal bleeding and hinted at her being stabbed.
“Is my career ruined?”
The question cracked out of her lips. She turned wide, glassy eyes on Jolie, who froze mid-step.
“Why would you even say that?”
Emily sniffed hard. The gears she’d been holding back finally flowed out hot, fast, and unstoppable.
“My face… my body… look at me. Everything’s banged up. Jolie, no one’s gonna hire a wrecked actress. All my roles would be gone. Everything I built… gone.”
Her voice broke on the last word, even pain throbbed through every inch of her, but the fear hurt worse.
“No.”
Jolie crossed the small space in two strides and crouched in front of her. She forced a smile bright, almost stubborn, the kind that dared the universe to prove her wrong.
“There’s always a solution.”
Emily sniffed again. A tiny, trembling smile flickered across her bruised lips, hopeful.
Then, the metal door screeched open.
Both females flinched, Jolie's arms instinctively shielding Emily.
But two maids stepped in, wheeling a stainless-steel cart between them.
“Morning, Miss Jolie. Miss Emily,” they said in perfect unison.
Jolie and Emily exchanged a fast, confused glance. It was too good to ignore, especially that locked prisoners don't get polite greetings.
The maids began setting out food with calmness; golden waffles, steaming tofu, glossy noodles, mashed potatoes swirled with butter and chives, grilled onions, crisp lettuce. The smell hit like a drug: warm.
“Where are we?” Jolie asked, her voice low and edged.
The maids only smiled, politely.
“We’re not allowed to disclose that information. But please… eat. You’ll need your energy.”
They finished, bowed slightly, and turned to leave.
Jolie moved like lightning. She caught the timid one by the wrist just before the door.
The girl froze.
Jolie crouched to her level, smirking softly.
“Common… spill.”
The maid blushed red, her eyes glued to the floor. Something about Jolie made her feel weak and shy: her sharp jaw, confident tilt of her head, made her look like the dangerous, beautiful young billionaire who could ruin or ruin you with one phone call.
“I’m sorry, Miss… I really don’t know anything. I was just told to serve you.”
Jolie arched a brow. “Serve me? Who told you? Male? Female? Try to remember.”
The girl bit her lip, glanced desperately at the other maid for rescue.
“We really don’t know,” the second one said quickly. “Two men brought us in and gave us instructions. That’s all.”
Jolie’s lips parted, ready to push harder.
“Let them go, Jolie,” Emily called softly from behind. “They know nothing.”
Jolie exhaled through her nos, forced another smile.
The maids slipped out. The door sealed shut with a heavy clang.
Emily was already reaching for a waffle, tearing off a piece.
“At least we weren’t strangled in our sleep. I’m starving.” She shoved it in her mouth. The flavour exploded: sweet, buttery. For the first time in forever, her taste buds woke up screaming.
Jolie didn’t move. Her eyes swept the room, the corners, ceiling, even the lighting searching for any hint of hidden cameras.
“And what if we’re not safe?” she muttered under her breath.
Somewhere else, in a dim room thick with smell of cotton candy and the hum of monitors, a female watched the feed.
She lifted her phone, her fingers tapped across the screen.
"They’re awake. What’s your next move?"
Diva’s head slammed onto the sticky bar counter after the eighteenth shot. Her lips were swollen, lip stick-smeared,
She laughed raw, and broken, the aughter cracked she choked on it and tears poured out. Silent at first, then shaking her whole body.
She dragged herself upright. Stumbled toward the stage, gripped the pole like it was the only thing keeping her standing.
She licked her lips, not minding her smeared make-up, black rivers of mascara, red lipstick smeared like blood.
Her push-up bra barely hiding her boob, her nipples threatening to escape with every breath, matched with tiny shorts, so high they exposed the full curve of her butt cheeks.
She started moving slow, her hips rolling, her waist twisting, yet her eyes locking on the man in the front row about thirty-something, licking his lips like he had already won the lottery.
She pushed off the pole and dropped straight into his lap. Moving her hip deliberately, even felt his dick hardened.
His hands were already inside her bra, pinching, rolling her nipples.
Diva giggled high, her lashes twitching.
She didn’t care that half the club was fucking on the couches around them. Didn’t care about the eyes on her.
She stood abruptly, crooked her finger repeatedly.
He followed like a dog on a leash.
In the private room she shoved him down, climbed on, took hiis dick in one slide
“Aaah… fuck…”
She moaned loud as she slammed her pussy in and out of him. Her wetness coated her thighs, slurping onto his dick with every bounce. Her eelashes fluttered.
The pleasure was insane.
“So… who do you work for? And what's the briefcase you carry all around..where's it?” she asked mid-thrust.
He laughed, his arrogancw visible.
“Keep going, whore. You don’t need to know.”
Diva laughed too. Good thing he was wearing a condom, or she would be disgusted fvcking him raw.
Her hands slid behind her back, still bouncing
Then-
POW POW.
The bullet punched through his skull. His blood sprayed, smeared all over her face His body jerked and his cock slid downards.
Diva lifted up from him, licking her lips. Naked, she strode to the wardrobe, scattering out his clothes to the ground to reveal the safe.
“What’s the code?” she murmured into the hidden earpiece.
“Zd23$#z#.”
She punched it in. The lock clicked. The black briefcase waited inside, she picked it up not minding how heavy it was.
“Target secured.”
She dressed fast - shorts, bra. Then shoved her soaked panties into the trash, doused them with vodka from the minibar, flicked her lighter.
The famkes roared up instantly
She sat down on the windowsill waiting and the door burst open.
Guns came up, but her pistol answered first.
Bullets plunging into hearts, lungs, heads, echoed sharp... bodies dropped to the ground one after the other polling the ground with blood.
"Сука, блядь! (Fvcking bitch!)” one snarled in Russian, raising his weapon.
Diva flipped him off with both hands, closed her eyes.
Her middle finger out stretched, she leaned backward and fell.
The wind roared past her ears, she laughed and the club room exploded...Particles filled the air falling with her.
Then, strong arms caught her mid-drop.
“That was porn-level stupid,” Teddy growled, voice tight. “You were supposed to kill him clean. Instant.”
Diva grinned up at him, wild and wicked.
“Jealous?”
She leaned in, her tongue tracing the lope of his ear.
“Besides… I just wanted to fuck him. But if it’s a fuck you want…”
She nipped his lobe. “I’ll give it to you.”
She slid out of his hold and walked away, her hips swaying, leaving his ears burning red.
"Mission accomplished, boss."