Rowan opens the door ahead, revealing a dark tunnel. “That door down there will lead you into the club,” he says. I tug on my shorts, then press a hand to flatten what’s left of my shirt. I don’t feel appealing at all in these clothes, but I have to remember what I find appealing may not be to the people of Vakeeli.
I walk in, swinging my eyes to Caz and Rowan. Suddenly, I’m scared shitless. What if I’m caught? Or one of these Rippies tries to take advantage of me because they do think I’m a whore.
“I won’t let anything happen to you,” Caz says. “Just call for me. I’ll be there.”
I nod, sighing.
Rowan bobs his head at me, providing a boost of reassurance, and then closes the door. When it clinks shut, I draw in a breath and face the other end of the tunnel.
Lights attached to the wall, ensconced in metal, give me just a bit of leeway to see the battered door at the other end. The hallway reminds me of an underground tunnel, one that would’ve been used to help people escape, and I wonder if that’s what it was to Ripple Hills before. Did they keep people like me enslaved, and this tunnel was made to help them flee? The idea makes me shudder, but I keep walking.
I’m fortunate not to see bones scattered on the floor, or anything out of the ordinary, just a simple dirt path leading to another door. Through the gaps of the door, flashes of neon lights fill the spaces. I make my way toward it, the music growing louder, the bass drumming, until I’m standing in front of it. I twist the rusted handle, and the door lets off a light moan when I pull it open, and as soon as it is, the music grows twice as loud. The bass thrums through the soles of my shoes, and the lights are damn near blinding, flashing all over the place.
The stench of sweat and body odor smothers me when I close the door behind me. The crowd is thick, and for a split second, I don’t think there’s any way I can get through. People are shoulder to shoulder, facing a stage of performers, cheering wildly. Couples dance and gyrate, bumping into other people without a care in the world, and half-naked women stand on tabletops and counters in thick, platform heels.
Two large men stand over a naked woman in the far-right corner. She’s lying on her back on a large table, gripping her breasts, and smiling up at them. The men pour liquid all over her, and she spreads it through every line, hole, and crease of her body.
I look past the filthy display, pushing my way through the first gap I spot. The performers play metal rock that drowns out almost every noise, even though people are yelling. I can already sense a headache coming on.
Stand by the bar. Tell me what you see. I hear Caz’s voice in my head and look around, as if he’ll appear.
Can you see what I see?
No, but I can hear it. And I feel your heart beating. Relax. Blend in. No one will notice you unless you make a scene.
I swallow hard, bumping into some of the rocking bodies. A woman ends up grabbing my hand, wanting to dance with me, but I shake my head and brush her off. Men stare at me, some glaring with disgust, others licking their lips with interest. I keep going until I’ve reached the bar. I can’t see a thing on the dancefloor.
The counter is surrounded by a metal cage. There are no stools or chairs to sit on. The bar is its own entity, and the people outside it are beggars, thirsting and desperate.
Two people stand behind the bar—a female with oily hair and red highlights, and a bald, thick-necked man who is shouting angrily at one of the drunk clubbers through one of the windows of the cage, asking what he wants. I decide to go to the woman. If I’m going to blend in, I’ll need to at least hold a drink.
I approach the bar woman, and she peers through the window at me. “What will it be?”
Ask for a gold tonic. Caz’s voice is firm. “A gold tonic, please.”
The woman scoffs, I’m assuming at my manners.
Don’t be so nice. Rippies are rude by nature.
I sigh, letting his voice pass, waiting patiently for the drink.
What do you see?
I take a look around the club. People dancing. Another bar. Sofas near the back wall.
Any other doors besides the one you walked through?
I scan the room, my eyes stopping on a door by a hallway. I see one. Next to the bathrooms, I think.
Give it a try.
The bartender brings back my drink, sliding it across the counter to me, not caring that some of the liquid spills. “Thirteen rubies,” she says.
I dig into my black pouch and pluck out some of the rubies Caz gave me for this very moment. She extends her hand out, and I drop them into her palm.
“Keep the rest,” I tell her.
With a quick bob of the head, she turns away, and I leave the bar, moving across the room to get near the restrooms. The band seems to be playing harder on their instruments, their heads bobbing wildly, hair swinging all over the place. I reach the hallway, and there’s a black door. I pull it open, but nothing is inside but dirty mops and brooms. Damn it.
It’s just a utility closet.
Shit. I don’t hear Caz’s voice for a few beats. Right. Well, let’s go for Plan B. Find Rami.
My eyes shift to a staircase leading up to the second floor, and as the music transitions and the crowd hollers, I hear a man’s bellowing laughter.
Stepping to the left to get a better look, I see him standing behind a barbed-wired gate. His clothes are different from everyone else’s. He’s not like the others in their simple solid-colored shirts and dark pants. Everyone is uniform but him. His clothes appear cleaner, his brown and white suit crisp, and his jewelry glinting beneath the lights. He’s a tubby man, short, greasy looking, but obviously with money judging by all the gold jewelry he wears. As he laughs again, I take note of the red tooth and how the lights flicker off it. It’s him.
Do you see him?
“Yes,” I say out loud this time.
Good. You know what to do. Be careful about it.
I suck in a breath and weave through the crowd, taking the stairs up. I put a few of my locs in place with one hand while gripping my drink tighter with the other.
A pale man stands at the top of the stairs, donned head to toe in dark brown. He’s bald, his inked arms folded across his chest. A tight grimace sweeps over his face when he sees me.
“Who the fuck are you?”
I clear my throat. “Here to see Rami.”
“Rami hasn’t said anything about visitors. Now fuck off.”
“I know, but I was thinking I could surprise him.” I wrap my lips around my straw and make my eyes bigger, hoping this type of flirting works. I’m terrible at flirting.
The man takes a look over his shoulder before focusing on me. “He won’t like you. Too dark. Stop wasting your time.”
I swallow hard, working down the bile building up in my throat.
Get Rami’s attention, Caz says.
How the hell am I supposed to do that? I look to my right, at Rami—who is glancing my way. He’s talking to someone, but his eyes cut to me.
You’re gonna hate this. Push the guard.
“What?” I shriek, and I don’t mean to say it out loud.
“All right, off with you. Get out of here,” the guard snaps, shoving me hard on the shoulder and forcing me a step downward.
Did he just hit you?
“Yes!” I yell.
Good. Rami likes violence. Hit that fucker back.
Furious, I drop my drink and push the guard back on the chest, and when he stumbles, he glares at me. His large hand wraps around my upper arm, and I wince as he reels me inward.
“Who the fuck do you think you are, huh? You fucking darkie.”
“What’s going on here?” Another voice rises behind the guard, and the guard glares me down a second longer before giving the man his attention.
“She fucking pushed me,” he grumbles.
“He pushed me first,” I snap back.
The man steps around the guard to get a closer look at me. Rami. His eyes roam my face, my body, then he looks at the guard. “Well, why’d you push her first?” he asks, then breaks out in a laugh. “Right. Get over it. Let her go.”
The guard releases me, but not without continuing his stare down.
“Never seen you before. What’s a girl like you doing ‘round here?” Rami asks, grinning.
I tip my chin. “I came to see you.”
“To see me?” He licks his lips as he looks me from head to toe. “And what have I done to deserve the pleasure?”
I shrug. “You’re Rami. You deserve everything.” Lay it on thick, why don’t ya. I ignore the sarcasm in Caz’s voice, keeping my eyes on Rami, who only smiles harder at the compliment.
“I like her. Let her through.” He swats the guard away with an impatient hand, then reaches for me, clutching my wrist. “What’s your name?”
“Layla,” I lie, forcing a smile.
“Well, Layla, it’s your lucky night. You get to hang with the big boss. I was just on my way to watch one of the fights.” He drags me along with him, walking across the room until he’s reached another staircase. “Watch your step here.” He says it, but he’s the one dragging me and making it impossible to do so.
I take the steps down with him quickly, glad I don’t trip and fall flat on my face.
The floors are black, the walls painted a muddy brown. The music from the club fades into the background, and I look back. Two guards are following us. The one I pushed is still there, grimacing at me. I snatch my eyes away from him as Rami stops in front of a red door with a black handle.
When he opens the door, I’m relieved to see we’re in a quieter space. A wall of windows is ahead, and I can’t believe my eyes when I see the large fighting ring below. It’s bigger than the MGM Grand Arena down there. Spotlights beam down on the cage, a wild crowd surrounding it. Some of them are gripping the metal gates and rattling them, shouting as two large men inside the ring fight. One of them is very familiar.
I feel my mouth go bone dry as I whisper, “Killian.”
You see him? Which cave? There should be a number on one of the walls.
I look for a number. There’s a large 5 on the wall next to the exit.
Cave five, I think. Take the stairs down. Red door with a black handle. He has two guards standing outside it.
“What will you have?” I turn at the sound of Rami’s voice. He’s closed the door so it’s just us.
“Gold tonic, please.”
“Ah, don’t be a bore. Here.” He pours something from a slim silver bottle into a glass and brings it to me. “Drink this. It’ll loosen ya right up.”
I take it, but I don’t drink it right away, and as if that bothers him, Rami stares at me.
“Drink,” he commands.
I lift the glass to my lips and sip. The liquid is sour and acidic, but I swallow it and do my best not to make a face.
“That’s a good girl.” He smiles, pleased with himself. I avoid rolling my eyes. Men like him make me sick. “You know, I fancy the ones like you.”
“The ones like me?” I ask, as if confused.
“Believe it or not, I have a weakness for darkies. But shhh…don’t let anyone else find out.” He winks, like it’s our little secret. “Darkies know how to have a good time. Suck a good dick. They take it up the ass very well too, or at least pretend to.”
I take another sip of the drink instead of responding.
Stop drinking. We’re moving in.
I lower the glass and turn to face the window instead. Killian is on top of a man, beating his damn face in, blood splattering onto the mat. The man will probably die if no one stops him.
“Do you run this fight club?” I ask.
“Now what kind of bloody question is that?” Rami laughs. “Of course, I do! I’m Rami, the fucking Ripple Hills Monarch! All this is mine.”
“Ah.”
“Yeah. Make lots of rubies and gold from this little gig, too. Come,” Rami says, taking one of the recliners. He spreads his legs apart then pats his lap. “Why don’t you sit with me?”
I clear my throat. “I’m okay here.”
“Sit down. Now.” He continues a smile, despite the words coming out through gritted teeth. I start to set my drink on a nearby table, but he says, “No, no. Bring that with you. Wouldn’t want it going to waste, would we?”
Carrying it with me, I walk toward him and ease myself onto his lap. As I do, I feel Caz’s gun digging into my waist. “You like that, yeah?”
I fight the urge to vomit. There’s a pinch in my belly, but I focus on the fight. “My money’s on the one doing all the punching.”
“What? That darkie brute?” Rami laughs. “Eh, believe it or not, that fucker is from Blackwater. People are betting a lot of money on him.” Rami grabs one of my locs, twirling it around his fingers. I fight the urge to swat his hand away for touching my hair without permission. “Not only that, but he’s part of the monarch’s inner circle. And we’ve got him. The rubies and gold will be rolling in.”
“Is he the only one you have from Blackwater?”
Rami shakes his head. “No. There’s another, and she’s a delight.” Rami claps when a bell rings and Killian’s fight is over, though I’m sure no one can hear it but me. A man with a thick device in his hand escorts Killian off the stage. The end of the device lets off an electric current, and he places it on Killian’s back, tasing him while shouting at him. It’s just like the weapon Juniper had at Toman’s party
Rami looks at me, and I fidget on his lap. Pressing his fingers to the bottom of my glass, he forces the rim of the cup to my lips. “Drink up.”
I take another sip, and my stomach churns. The drink burns going down and my head spins, but I try to stay present.
Willow, stop drinking whatever he’s given you!
“He’s…he’s making me.”
“What was that?”
My eyes swing to Rami’s, but now I’m seeing double. I blink hard, hoping it’ll clear my vision. It doesn’t.
“Nothing. So…um…where is she? Juniper?”
Rami is quiet a second, glaring at me. “How do you know her name?”
I blink slowly, keeping my double-focus on Rami. He watches me carefully, then a slow smile spreads across his lips. “You think I don’t know who ya are?” His voice has changed. It’s deeper. Huskier. I drop the glass and it cracks, splintering on the floor. Rami’s hand comes to my throat, tightening, and I clutch at it as he forces me to look at him.
“You’re Caz’s dark little whore. There are pictures of ya leaving his pub. I saw ya with him and his clan, you dumb bitch. You think I’m stupid? That I’d just let someone like you back here? What the fuck are ya doing here? Where is he?”
“I—I don’t know what you’re talking about—”
Rami clutches my throat tighter and lifts me in the air before tossing me on the floor. I land on my back with a grunt, trying to get up, but it’s impossible. I’m dizzy now, my legs going numb. I can’t move them. He stalks toward me, sneering, revealing that red tooth dead in the center.
“You spyin’ for him?”
“N-no.”
“One thing I hate is a lying darkie.”
I weakly slide back on my elbows as he closes the gap between us. When he bends down to clutch my ankles, he drags me toward him and pins me down between his legs. I dig into the waistband for the gun, but he yanks it out of my hand and tosses it across the room.
“Stop!” I scream.
“Oh, now you want me to stop?” He’s grinning down at me. I take a swing at him, but he catches it and shoves my hand back down on the floor. His other hand strikes my face, a heavy slap, and my cheek stings so badly my eyes well with tears. “Be still!” he barks. “You dirty darkie bitch. I’ll teach you what happens when you work for Caz Harlow!”
“Caz!” I scream. “Caz! Now!” Take the stairs down. Red door! I’m here!
“Are you calling out for that filthy fucker?” Rami grins as he flips me onto my belly, and I try to fight him off, but I feel like I’m losing complete control of my body. I feel his hands tearing at my shorts and then my panties. He groans, as if pleased with what he sees, and I hear a buckle jingling. A zipper noise is next. No, no, no.
“Get off me!” I scream, and I use whatever’s left of my energy to throw my head back and smash it into his face. Rami howls in pain and goes flying backward, and I dig my fingernails into the carpet, forcing myself to move, even if I have to get away like a dying slug.
“You fucking bitch!” A hand drops to my head and grips a handful of my hair tight. I scream.
Caz! Caz, please!
The tears burn as they run down my face, and in a matter of seconds I can’t breathe because Rami has turned me onto my back and has his hands closed around my throat. His nose drips blood, but that doesn’t stop him from choking me. There’s anger in his eyes I’ve never seen—it’s satanic, really. I’ve never seen someone so wicked—so excited to end another person’s life.
I weakly tap at his hand, fighting for my next breath. A pressure builds in my head and just when I think this is it—this is my end—there’s a loud thud, a gunshot, and the pressure around my neck subsides.
When I look up, coughing and panting, Rami’s left eye is gone. There’s a hole the size of a golf ball in its place, blood gushing out of it. His body crumples forward and lands beside mine, and I suck in a sharp breath, wiggling away from him.
Footsteps thunder on the floor, moving toward me, and when I look up, I’m met with ocean blue eyes. I breathe in again as Caz drops to one knee beside me.
