Chapter 7 Chapter 7
"I know Sir," I said quietly. "You'll come in guns blazing and destroy everything."
"Exactly," you're right.”
I changed into the clothes we'd prepared ,expensive looking but not so expensive that it would
raise questions.
A fitted dress that showed off my body without being an obvious invitation.
Makeup that enhanced my natural beauty. An earpiece hidden in my hair, so small it was almost
invisible.
I was going to become a bait for the predator.
The warehouse was exactly what I expected : industrial, dark, echoing. Victor was waiting for
me inside, along with two security guards and a woman in a white coat who looked like a doctor.
"Mia, you made it, I nodded my head," Victor said, smiling that predator's smile. "Dr. Gab will conduct the preliminary evaluation."
The evaluation was physical and deeply invasive. Blood work, genetic samples, scanning my
body for anything unusual.
Through it all, I stayed calm, stayed in character, stayed aware of
every exit, every weapon, every potential threat.
"She's clean," Dr. Gab finally said. "No obvious supernatural markers. Heart rate and adrenaline
are elevated, but that's normal for a first evaluation."
"Good." Victor turned to me. "Here's how this works. You'll go to one of our hospitality houses.
Get trained in how we do business. If you're suitable, we'll offer you a permanent position. If
you're not..." He shrugged. "Let's just say you'd better be suitable."
"And the money?" I asked.
"Comes later. After you've proven your loyalty."
He was walking toward me, and I could smell the cologne he wore, could see the hunger in his
eyes.
His hand reached out toward my face, and this time, I didn't pull away.
I let him touch me. Let him see exactly what he thought he was seeing—a broken girl looking for
a way out.
"You're going to do very well here," you know? . "I can tell."
In my earpiece, I was breathing hard, barely controlled rage in every exhale.
I was going in. Deeper than before. Deeper than was safe.
And there was no turning back.
The hospitality house was in what used to be a wealthy neighborhood, a sprawling Victorian
mansion converted into something that was trying very hard to look legitimate.
A place where lonely men paid for company, where vulnerability was a commodity,, where power could be bought and sold.
I've been living here for fourteen days.
During that time, I'd learned Victor's operation from the inside. The hierarchy was simple: Victor
was at the top, reporting to someone he called "the Director." Under Victor were middle
management—handlers who recruited girls, trainers who broke girls, security who kept girls
from escaping.
And under them were the girls. Dozens of them, in rooms on the upper floors, on
prescribed schedules, showing up for dates and appointments and slowly, inevitably, losing
themselves.
Some of them had been here for months. Some for years. And every one of them had that same
hunted look that had been in Emma's eyes.
I was in training, which means I wasn't being sent out yet. I was being taught the rules of the
house.
How to move. How to smile. How to pretend to enjoy the company of men who were
buying the idea of intimacy without ever understanding what actual intimacy meant.
The girls didn't trust me yet. I was new, which means, I was both a potential ally and a
potential threat.
New girls sometimes reported to management. New girls sometimes couldn't
handle the work and try to run, causing problems for everyone.
So I was watched, evaluated, tested.
"You're quiet," one of the other girls said. Her name is Destiny, though I was pretty sure that
wasn't her real name.
None of them used their real names. "Usually the new girls talk more."
We were in the common room, a space designed to look like a lounge, with comfortable
furniture and a television playing something nobody was watching.
It was six in the morning,before the first appointments of the day.
"I'm very observant," I said. "I listen more than talking"
"Smart." Destiny lit a cigarette, ignoring the no smoking sign on the wall. "Don't let Victor know
that, though He likes girls who are easy to manipulate .Girls who talk without thinking. Girls who gives him ammunition "
"What kind of ammunition?" I asked.
"Secrets. Weaknesses..Things he can use against you if you ever think about leaving." She exhaled smoke toward the ceiling.
"I tried to run once. Made it three blocks before his security caught me.
When they brought me back, he spent a whole day reminding me why leaving
wasn't an option."
"What do you mean, reminding you?"
"He knows things about me. About my family. He threatened to hurt my little sister if I tried
again." She looked at me. "That's how he keeps us. Not locks or guards, though he has those
too. He keeps us because we're terrified of what he'll do to people we love."
This was what Alex needed to know. This was the piece that would let him understand how
to dismantle the operation.
"Does anyone ever escape?" I asked carefully
Destiny was quiet for a long moment. "There was a girl. About six months ago. Security let her
out and she just... disappeared.
Nobody knew why he let her out, but it was the only time I've
seen someone actually leave." Her expression turned calculating. "Are you thinking about
running?"
"I'm only thinking about surviving," I said.
"Same here," Destiny said. "In here, surviving means doing what you're told, accepting what
comes, and hoping that eventually the person who owns you gets bored and lets you go."
"Does that ever happen?"
"Once. Maybe twice. If you're lucky and pretty enough to catch someone important enough that
they want to buy you out.
Most of us?" She flicked her cigarette into an empty cup. "We stay
until we're not useful anymore."
The rest of the day was training. Dance classes, makeup application, conversation practice.
How to flirt. How to fake pleasure. How to make a man feel wanted while keeping enough
emotional distance that you didn't actually feel anything.
By the time evening came, I was exhausted, but it wasn't physical exhaustion. It was the
exhaustion of pretending to be helpless, pretending to be vulnerable, pretending to be someone
I wasn't.
I was supposed to have my first appointment tomorrow night. A client Victor had specifically
requested. He hadn't told me who yet.
That night, I waited until everyone was asleep, then found an empty room and activated my
communication device.
"Status?" Alex's voice came through immediately, and I could hear the tension in him. For
fourteen days, I'd been checking in at appointed times, giving him information.
But I'd also been disconnected, forced to live in a world without him for hours at a time.
"I'm going in," I said softly. "Tomorrow night, my first appointment. After that, I'll have direct
access to Victor's inner circle.
Finance records, client list, connection to the Alpha King."
"It's too early," he said. "You're not ready…"
"I'm ready," I interrupted. "Alex, I've been doing this for two weeks. I understand the
structure. I understand the security system. And I've established enough trust that Destiny confided in me about how Victor keeps them under control.
He uses leverage. Family members. It's always about leverage."
"Just like with you," Alex said, understanding immediately.
"Exactly like with me," I confirmed. "So what's your next move?"
"I've been working on something," He said, and I heard caution in his voice. "Information about
the research facility.
I think I've found where they're keeping the experimental subjects. And I
think…" He paused. "I think this has a connection to your parents' death.
Evidence has it, they were part of the research team before they tried to go public."
My stomach clenched. "What kind of evidence?"
"Research papers. Publications under pseudonyms. Genetic sequencing notes that match your
DNA." He was quiet.
"Your parents weren't random targets, Mia. They were involved in
creating what you are."
The revelation should have broken me. Should have shattered the fragile peace I'd been
building about my past.
But instead, it clarified everything.
"Then we finish this," I said. "We find out the truth about what I am. We find out who
caused their deaths.
And we burn everyone responsible."
"Mia…"
"Tomorrow night,Alex. Be ready."
I ended the communication before he could argue.
In the darkness of the empty room, I lay on the cold floor and felt something crystallize inside
me.
For five years, I'd run from the truth about who I was, where I came from, what I was
capable of.
Now it was time to stop running.
Now it was time to run toward the darkness instead.
The hotel room smelled like expensive cologne and lies.
I stood in front of the mirror, barely recognizing the woman staring back at me. The dress Victor
had given me was red—the kind of shade that carried trouble on its tongue.