Page 87 of Inferno

“It’s running, isn’t it?”

I squeeze my hand tighter.

“Maybe I enjoy being choked. Get your hands off me, Declan, before I nut ya and break your pretty face.”

I release him, and he slumps back in his chair.

“Pretty good grip. You been training like I told you to?” he says, rubbing his neck.

“I train every day.”

He sniggers, and I lean back in my chair.

“So, who are your contestants this year?” He claps his hands together, looking at the paperwork in front of me.

We never receive photos. Just backgrounds, tests, and preferences.

These families want an in to Decadence, well, they want the mafia ties we have across the country.

That is exactly the point of the Decadence games. Weeding out the bad in our world for Enzo.

Not everything behind these gates is as evil as we want them to believe. We lead them to think the winner will become my submissive for a year, and the losing contestants end up in a grave. If only they knew the truth. The winner, in fact, ends up with one million dollars and a ticket to a brand new life. Far, far away from their abusive families or husbands.

“Same criteria as the previous years. Hot, dark hair, can handle pain, won’t talk back.” I flick through the pages and stop on the one that instantly caught my eye.

“Sounds good. I’m still waiting for my final contestants from Enzo.” Conan cracks his knuckles.

“Yeah, I had to wait longer for mine. Something to do with a Russian family he’s wanting to create ties with. He was waiting for their response before offering out the final space.”

I rarely question it. Each year he just slaps the final contestant’s papers on my desk. He made it clear that was his role. We aren’t looking at the women. We are hunting the families responsible for the applications.

Men desperate enough to sacrifice their daughters or wives to get a way into our club.

Inferno isn’t just a sex club.

It’s a whole other world. Only those who are worthy of knowing about it are aware of its existence.

It doesn’t just open you up to sex.

But to arms, drugs, laundering, hitmen. You name it, the Quinn brothers provide it.

These families are giving a sacrifice to me for their membership.

Little do they realize they are about to lose far more than they could ever imagine.

That’s where Finn and his menacing, arguably evil, ways come in. Death is involved in the games; that is a fact.

But for the family of the woman who receives the ticket, they get the ultimate prize. It’s their ticket to our inner circle, which extends to mafias in Vegas, New York, Chicago, London, and Italy.

Again, it’s a very short-lasting arrangement.

I don’t know who is more sick in the head. Us, or the fathers who sell their daughters to the games.

“They look good. A good variety. It will be interesting to see who wins this year.”

I slide my hands over the one report that sticks out to me.

Ebony West.

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