Chapter 8 Darkar

CHAPTER 8:

RAVEN'S POV

The car rolled to a stop at exactly 11:58 p.m. outside a hulking, windowless structure on the far edge of Red Hook, Brooklyn, former meatpacking plant turned fortress.

No signs, Just razor wire curling over chain-link, floodlights sweeping the perimeter like searchlights in a prison yard, and four armed bouncers at the gate who looked like they ate nails for breakfast.

The driver didn't speak. Just nodded once toward the entrance.

I stepped out, no weapons, that would be a very deadly idea. Just black jeans, long-sleeve thermal, boots, hair in a tight knot.

My heart was a war drum in my chest, but I kept my face blank.

I'd kissed Lila goodnight three hours ago.

Told her I had a late meeting.

Maya the only friend that i have had from horrible days at darkar, stayed over, eyes sharp with worry.

"If you're not back by dawn," she'd said, "I'm coming for you." I nodded once, didn't argue.

The bouncers didn't ask for ID. One of them, very huge, neck like a tree trunk, earpiece glinting looked me up and down, then jerked his head. "Boss is waiting."

They flanked me as we walked through the gate. Metal clanged shut behind us.

The air changed immediately, heavy with diesel, sweat, cheap perfume, and something metallic underneath. Blood, maybe.

The main entrance opened into what they called the clubhouse. Dim red lighting, bass so deep it vibrated in my teeth. Concrete floors sticky under my boots. A long bar lined with men in suits and leather jackets.

Girls moved through the crowd, collared, barely dressed, eyes vacant. Some on leashes. Some kneeling at feet, mouths working.

One girl was bent over a high-top table, skirt hiked, a man taking her from behind while his friends watched and laughed.

She wasn't moaning. She was rather making muffled broken sounds swallowed by the music.

I kept my eyes forward, trying to shut the memories of my horrible past here. The bouncers didn't let me slow.

We passed the main stage, three poles, three girls, all naked, twirling and shaking asses in perfect rhythm.

One dropped low, thighs spread, fingers sliding between her legs while men threw bills.

Another climbed the pole upside down, legs splitting wide, holding the pose while a client reached up and slapped her ass hard enough to leave a red handprint.

She didn't flinch. Just smiled, the empty, practiced smiles all girls were tortured into learning here.

The third girl was on her knees in front of a man in a booth. He had her hair fisted, forcing her head down, thrusting violently into her mouth. She gagged, tears streaming, but he didn't stop. His friends cheered. Money changed hands like it was a show.

My stomach turned. I'd killed men like these.

Seeing this all laid bare, raw, brutal, again made me remember the past.

What they had done to maya.

This horrible place wasn't anything like Velvet reservoir.

This was a slaughterhouse for girls.

The bouncers pushed me through a side door marked PRIVATE. The music muffled. The corridor narrowed. More doors lined the walls, some closed, some cracked.

Moans leaked out. A girl's scream cut off abruptly. A whip cracked somewhere. Flesh slapped flesh. Chains rattled.

We passed an open room, two girls on their knees, naked, hands cuffed behind backs.

A man in a white coat, doctor, maybe, examined them like livestock. Flashlight in one girl's mouth. Gloved fingers between another's legs. "This one's tight," he said. "Good price." The girls didn't move. Didn't look up. Just stared at the floor.

Another room, a girl tied to a cross, lashes across her back, fresh red welts overlapping old scars. She was shaking, sobbing quietly.

A man stood behind her, belt in hand, stroking her hair like he loved her. "You'll learn," he murmured. "You always learn."

I swallowed bile, and kept walking.

The corridor ended at a heavy steel door.

One bouncer knocked twice, opened the door and pushed me inside.

Oscar waited inside.

The room was larger than the others, high ceilings, massive bed in the center draped in red silk, chains hung from the ceiling, leather couch, bar, dim red lighting that made everything look bloody. No way to escape this deadly place except the door behind me, and the tiny window, big enough for a seven year-old to fit in.

He sat on the couch, legs crossed, same black silk shirt from last night, a big cigar in hand. Just him.

"Pet," he said, voice low, pleased. "You came."

I stood in the doorway, arms loose at my sides. "You didn't give me a choice.

Oscar laughed softly. "I always give you a choice. You just never make the smart one."

He gestured to the couch opposite him. "Sit."

I refused his offer, standing instead. "What do you want?"

He studied me for a long moment, eyes roaming my body like he was cataloging every inch.

Then he stood, slow, deliberate. Crossed the room, and stopped inches from me, close enough I could smell the alcohol on his breath, and the cigar on his clothes.

"I want obedience," he said quietly. "I want loyalty. I want you to remember who owns you.

His hand moved fast. Fingers closed around my throat, not choking yet, just holding, firm, possessive.

His thumb pressed against my pulse point, feeling it race. With his other hand he caressed, slow, deliberate, down my side, over my hip, up my waist, tracing the curve of my breast through the thin thermal.

His touch was light, almost gentle, but the threat was in the grip on my throat.

"I own you," he whispered, mouth close to my ear. "Every breath. Every heartbeat. Every secret you think you're hiding. You want to work for him. But you forget, you belong to me."

His fingers tightened slightly blocking my air-way.

My vision edged black. I didn't fight, not yet.

I let him feel the pulse under his thumb, fast, but steady.

"You think you can get Blackwood by whoring for him?" Oscar murmured, lips brushing my ear. "He will end you the moment he figures out who you are. He will take your precious daughter away from you pet. But i? I will protect you, the girl who crawled through broken glass at fifteen. The girl who killed for me. The girl who still comes when I call."

His hand slid lower, cupping between my legs, firm, possessive.

I stiffened, but didn't pull away. He pressed harder, rubbing once, slow.

"You're wet," he said, almost surprised. "Even now, in this situation, your sweet, sweet body keeps producing fluids. That's why I keep you, i can never get enough of you, my sweet pet."

I swallowed against his grip. "Let go."

He tightened instead. "Beg again. Like last night."

"Please," I forced out, voice hoarse. "Let go."

He smiled, slow, cruel. Released my throat, and stepped back.

I sucked in air, coughing once, hand rising to touch the red marks he'd left.

"Good girl," he said, returning to the couch. He sat, legs spread, glass in hand. "Now sit. We have business to discuss."

I stayed standing. "What business?"

"A contract job, i clean kill tomorrow night." Oscar sipped, eyes never leaving mine. "Client want's it as fast as possible.

Other details will be sent to you by morning.

I didn't react. This was what i do. Who i am.

A sharp tool, in Oscar's hand.

"Also, Raven, about mr Blackwood, something has to be done."

My stomach dropped. "No, nobody touches him except me."

"No?" He laughed, low, dangerous. "You forget. I own your daughter's life too. One word, and she disappears. Or worse. She completes your contract. Ten years old. Old enough to learn the trade."

Cold rage flooded me. "You touch her, I kill you slow."

Oscar smiled wider. "Then do what I say. Blackwood will be eliminated, you will back to me. Or lose everything."

I stared at him, heart pounding, fury twisting together. The room felt smaller, air thinner. I thought of Lila, her trusting face, her innocence.safe in her bed right now.

Oscar stood again.

Crossed to me, grabbed my throat once more, harder this time. Choked me with one hand while the other caressed down my chest, over my stomach, between my legs again. Pressing, rubbing, claiming.

"I own you," he whispered, lips against my ear. "Every inch. Every breath. Every tear.

After you mission, you will come back here. On your knees. Where you belong."

He released me. I gasped, coughing, vision spotting. He stepped back, satisfied.

"Ohhh sweet pet," he said, voice soft, almost tender, grinning wide. "I kept a surprise for you."