Chapter 2 Through the Devil's Door

"What do you think you're doing?"

The question came out sharper than I intended, though the fear behind it was impossible to hide.

The two men each took one of my arms, their grips firm but strangely cautious, as if I were some fragile object they had been ordered not to damage. The care in their handling did not comfort me. If anything, it made the dread in my stomach spread faster. People only handled things that carefully when those things were expensive.

I swallowed against the sudden wave of nausea rising in my throat.

My head had been spinning since I woke up, but now the dizziness seemed worse. The loud music pounding outside the room mixed horribly with the stench of smoke and alcohol drifting in through the open doorway. I had spent months working in a bar, so I was no stranger to liquor and late-night chaos, but this place felt entirely different. The smell here was heavier, dirtier, as though every sinful thing imaginable had soaked itself into the walls.

"Just walk," the scarred man muttered when I resisted.

His voice held impatience, yet underneath it was something close to unease.

I could have fought. I could have kicked, screamed, bitten, clawed. But my body was not cooperating with the rebellion screaming inside my mind. Weakness kept settling deeper into my limbs, making each breath feel heavier than the last. For now, I let them drag me forward while I silently searched for any chance to escape.

The moment we stepped outside the holding room, blinding lights flashed across my face.

My eyes narrowed.

What waited beyond the steel door was not the underground dungeon I had imagined.

It was a nightclub.

A massive one.

Colored lights spun wildly across the ceiling while deafening music vibrated through the floor. Men and women packed the place shoulder to shoulder, moving like drunken waves beneath the pulsing glow. Some were dancing on elevated platforms, some were shouting over drinks, and others were pressed against walls with mouths fused together as though they had forgotten there were people around them.

I stared in disbelief.

For one absurd second, I wondered if I had somehow been kidnapped into the world's worst after-party.

The men kept leading me forward.

I forced my weak legs to move with them, trying to ignore the humiliating awareness of black lace against my skin. Every passing glance from strangers felt like dirty fingers crawling over my body. Men's eyes lingered too long. Women looked at me with curiosity, pity, or amusement. Not a single person seemed surprised to see a half-dressed woman being escorted through the crowd.

That realization chilled me more than the air-conditioning.

This was normal here.

Whatever this place was, people were used to scenes like this.

The music became more suffocating as we pushed deeper through the sea of bodies. Cigarette smoke curled above our heads like poison trapped beneath the lights, and with every breath I took, my dizziness worsened. The room seemed to sway left and right, though I knew it was only me.

I needed to stay conscious.

I needed to find an exit.

I scanned every corner desperately, hoping to see a door, a staircase, anything that looked remotely like freedom. Instead, all I saw was decadence wrapped in filth. A woman laughed breathlessly while perched on a stranger's lap. Another man was pinning a girl against one of the pillars, his hands roaming shamelessly over her exposed skin. Everywhere I looked, there were bodies colliding, mouths devouring, hands claiming.

I had worked in nightlife long enough to know bars came in different classes.

Mine served drinks and overpriced cocktails.

This one served human dignity on a silver platter.

"This place is revolting," I muttered under my breath.

Neither of the men answered.

We continued walking until we reached what looked like the main exit, though two figures blocking the doorway made me question whether the word exit held any real meaning in this building.

A woman was leaning lazily against the wall, her dark hair falling over one shoulder while a man stood scandalously close behind her. His hands were still resting at her waist, and judging by the satisfied smile on her lips, we had interrupted something neither of them had any shame about.

The woman glanced at us and arched a brow. Her eyes slid over me, slow and assessing, before a smirk tugged at the corner of her painted mouth.

"Well," she drawled, "is this tonight's special delivery?"

I stiffened.

Scar Cheek checked his watch before giving her an irritated look. "Maze, move. It's time."

So her name was Maze.

Fitting. She looked exactly like the kind of woman who could lead men into destruction and enjoy watching them get lost.

She clicked her tongue dramatically and peeled herself away from the man behind her. "Interrupting me in the middle of entertainment should be a punishable offense."

"The boss will give us all the punishment we need if we're late," the other man replied.

That single sentence erased Maze's teasing smile almost instantly.

Interesting.

Even she feared this mysterious boss.

Her gaze returned to me, and this time there was unmistakable curiosity in it. "So this is the one?"

I hated the way she said the one, as if I were livestock being inspected.

Before anyone could answer, I felt another pair of eyes on me.

I turned.

The man beside Maze was staring.

Not at my face.

Lower.

Humiliation struck me so hard I nearly stopped breathing. I folded my arms tighter over myself, but the flimsy lingerie offered no protection from his shameless gaze. Heat stung the corners of my eyes, and for one terrible second I thought I might cry.

I bit the inside of my cheek until the urge vanished.

No.

I would not cry here.

I would not let these people feast on my fear.

Maze seemed to notice my discomfort because she rolled her eyes at the man and shoved his shoulder. "Control yourself. She's not for you."

Not for you.

The words did nothing to reassure me.

If anything, they made everything worse.

The door in front of us creaked open.

Cold air spilled out from the other side, carrying with it a completely different sound. The music from the nightclub dimmed behind us, replaced by a distant murmur of voices and the metallic echo of a microphone.

My body tensed.

Whatever lay beyond this door was where they had truly been taking me all along.

Suddenly, the weakness in my limbs intensified. My knees buckled, and the floor tilted beneath me. I caught myself before collapsing, but black dots had already begun dancing across my vision.

This was no longer simple dizziness.

Something was wrong with me.

Very wrong.

I sucked in a breath and tasted something bitter at the back of my throat.

Drugged.

The realization hit like ice water.

They had put something inside my system.

No wonder my body felt detached, my thoughts sluggish, my strength draining away with every passing minute.

I tried to force myself upright, but my muscles no longer listened the way they should. Voices around me became muffled, as though I had been plunged underwater. Maze was saying something. One of the men cursed. The open doorway in front of us blurred into a smear of silver light.

Then I heard footsteps.

Slow.

Measured.

Different from everyone else's.

A strange silence seemed to ripple through the people around me, and even through my fading senses, I felt it, the sudden shift in atmosphere, the kind that happened when someone important arrived.

I fought to keep my eyes open.

Through the haze, I saw only a tall figure in a black tuxedo approaching us.

His face was nothing but a blur.

Yet somehow, his presence felt terrifyingly clear.

Power.

That was the only word my fogged mind could cling to.

The men holding me straightened immediately.

Maze lowered her head.

Even the nightclub noise behind us seemed to fade into nothing.

He stopped in front of me.

I wanted to step back.

I wanted to ask who he was.

Instead, my knees finally gave in.

Just before darkness swallowed me whole, I felt a hand catch my waist, steady and unhurried, followed by a low voice brushing against my ear like a promise carved from danger.

"Endure it a little longer," he murmured. "Soon enough, you'll be exactly where I want you."

And then I lost consciousness.