Chapter 3 THE CLIENT

Amelia's POV

What would happen to me now?

What about my mom?

The questions looped relentlessly in my head, as though asking them again and again would summon a different answer. The black car carried me through the city like a casket on wheels. Every stoplight passed like a countdown. I stared out the window, but all I could see was my reflection, my hollow, painted face, eyes wide and unfocused, lips trembling despite the red lipstick I wore like war paint.

I didn't ask where we were going. I didn't speak. I couldn't.

Beside the driver sat the silent man who had shoved me into the car earlier, his eyes fixed forward like I wasn't even human.

My heart pounded like it was trying to escape my chest. My hands wouldn't stop trembling. I clutched the hem of my dress so tightly my knuckles turned white.

The Mafia King's words echoed in my mind.

"If you please him, I'll pay you enough to save your mother."

I was doing this for her.

Only for her.

Inside me, my wolf thrashed and growled, feral with fury.

Let me out, she demanded. Let me protect you. We'll tear them apart.

No, I whispered to her. Not now. We won't survive this. We need to get through tonight.

When the car finally stopped, I stepped out slowly, my legs weak and unsteady.

The hotel towered above me like a palace. Every inch glittered, glass windows stretching skyward, golden light pouring out like liquid wealth. I had never seen anything so breathtaking... or so terrifying.

I walked inside.

The lobby was drenched in light. Chandeliers dangled above like floating stars. Marble stretched out beneath me, so polished I could see my reflection, my overly done makeup, my curled hair, my terrified expression.

My heels clicked as I followed a man toward the elevators. He handed me a black satin mask.

I hesitated for a breath... then tied it around my head. If I had to become someone else for the night, so be it. This was shame's only disguise.

The elevator glided upward in suffocating silence.

When it opened, I stepped into the hallway, heart beating out of rhythm.

He was already waiting inside the room.

The man.

The client.

Masked.

He stood with his back to me, facing the tall window. He was shirtless, steam still rising faintly from his skin. His body looked unreal, broad shoulders, sculpted chest, abs cut like stone. Droplets of water slid slowly down the ridges of his torso.

I stopped short, my breath catching.

I hated myself for noticing.

He's beautiful, I thought. No. Dangerous.

But God help me, he was the most physically perfect man I'd ever seen.

And he hadn't said a word.

I wanted to speak. Ask who he was. Why me. But his silence filled the room like smoke.

He turned slightly when he heard the door shut.

Our masks met, black satin on black satin. Only our mouths visible.

Then came his voice, low and deep, cutting through the air like a blade.

"Lie down."

That was all he said.

No names. No questions. No kindness.

I stood frozen for a second, pulse thudding in my throat.

He didn't repeat himself.

I moved on numb legs toward the bed. My fingers trembled as I climbed onto the mattress, lying on my back. My heart slammed against my ribs.

I felt the bed shift as he joined me.

No more words.

Only touch.

The moment he entered me, I gasped, sharp pain shooting through my body like fire. I clamped my mouth shut, tears sliding down my temples. My fists clenched the sheets, knuckles aching.

It was raw. Hard. And new.

My body wasn't ready. But I took it. And I didn't know why but I did enjoy it. Even though it was the first time.

I was doing this for my mom.

My wolf whimpered inside me, curling into herself, unable to watch.

There was no cruelty in him... but there was no tenderness either.

When it was over, I lay in silence, my limbs heavy, my body sore. I stared at the ceiling, fighting the tears that burned behind my eyes.

He stood and walked across the room, grabbing his shirt. I watched him from the corner of my eye as he turned, and that's when I saw it.

A scar.

Thin. Pale. Jagged. It ran just below his jawline and curved down his neck, almost like a lightning bolt carved into flesh.

Something in me froze.

That scar...

I've seen that before.

Where?

I couldn't remember.

But the image branded itself into my mind.

He approached the bed, still shirtless, and placed a check beside me without a word.

I blinked and slowly picked it up with shaking hands.

Two million.

I stared at the numbers, my chest rising and falling rapidly.

It was enough. It would cover my mother's surgery. Everything.

The tears came then, not out of gratitude, but out of something hollow and ugly. Something that clawed its way up from the pit of my stomach and curled around my heart.

I had sold my body. For a number.

I didn't even know his name.

He left without a sound. The door shut gently behind him.

I stayed there for a moment, unable to move.

Eventually, I sat up with a soft groan, every muscle in my body aching. I pulled the mask off and tossed it to the floor, running a hand through my hair, which now hung in loose waves from the roughness of the night.

I needed to go.

I needed to see my mother.

I climbed off the bed, slowly getting dressed, every movement sending a new ache through me. The fabric of the dress clung uncomfortably to my sore skin. I winced as I pulled it over my hips.

My reflection in the mirror caught my eye.

I looked like a woman who had survived a storm, and barely.

But I had the check. I had hope.

Then, my phone buzzed from the nightstand.

I rushed to grab it, pain be damned.

Hospital.

I answered quickly.

"Hello?"

The nurse on the other end sounded breathless.

"You need to come right away... It's about your mother."

My heart skipped. My body went still.

"Is she okay?" I whispered, already grabbing my purse.

There was a pause.

Then she said it.

The words that would break me.

"We're sorry... but she's gone."

My hand lost grip on the phone.

It hit the floor.