Page 19 of Masked Mayhem

“Are you sure you don’t want to talk about what’s bothering you?” Cade asks quietly mid-rhythm, leaning in close enough for me to feel the warmth of him.

In that moment, I realize how hard it is to balance what I feel with who I want to be—the light and the dark intertwining, pulling me between a world of freedom and the shadowed deception lurking just beyond my doorstep.

“I’m fine, really,” I say, forcing a smile as I push thoughts of the messages deep down, wanting to preserve the moment a little longer. “Just… enjoying the now.”

But the words feel like a desperate lie, a whisper against the crashing waves of reality. And as we draw closer to each other, I wonder how long I can hide from the truths that leech into the background.

Just then, my phone buzzes again, and I hold my breath, dread filling my veins again. Ignoring the line between desire and danger, I resolve to dance, to live in the moment as best I can, for who knows what the morning will bring? With a deep breath, I dive back into the rhythm, hoping that bliss can cover my tracks long enough for me to piece together the certainty of this confusion before it consumes me whole.

seven

Dirty and Dangerous

Cade (“Red”)

I'm in Luv (Wit a Stripper): Mike Jones, T-Pain

"Haveyoufuckingconsideredthe shit we're going to be in with the captain once he tests us and we pop dirty?" Carter asks, his voice tinged with panic as we step into the club, our eyes scanning for Whitney.

Now shielded by the anonymity of our masks, I let my expression drop as memories of the initiation last night flood back, making my stomach churn. But as twisted as it sounds, if being part of Masked Mayhem means being closer to Whitney, I’m willing to do whatever it fucking takes.

"We fucking beat a man to death last night, 13, and you're worried about failing a fucking drug test? I couldn't give a shit about the test or what the captain thinks. We need to make sure he never finds out what we've done." I turn to him, emphasizing the gravity of the situation we've found ourselves in.

Our original mission was to infiltrate this group and uncover if they were behind the string of robberies, murders, and the chaos that has gripped the city. Instead, we’ve plunged deep into a perilous mess, and I’m not sure there’s a fucking way back.

"I know, Red. I get it," Carter groans, haunted by the memory of snapping Johnny’s neck.

"If it comes up, we can always claim we failed the test because getting high was part of our initiation," I suggest, momentarily distracted as Whitney spins gracefully around the pole before us, her bare skin glistening under the low lights.

All I can think about is how close I was to her earlier—her lips on mine, her body pressed against me, her ass in my hands. I want more. I desperately need more. However, the moment Havoc and Crow step into the room, rage ignites inside me like a fucking wildfire, extinguishing any hope of being with Whitney tonight.

"Incoming," 13 warns, eyeing Whitney as she bends over and touches her toes with her legs spread, her perfectly round ass on display for the crowd.

I lose myself in the rhythm of the music, marveling at how each sway of her body is perfectly synchronized with the beat. She twerks gracefully in the air, her silky dark hair swirling around her as she uses her arms and the pole for support, showcasing her physical strength. I disregard Havoc as he takes a seat beside me, my focus entirely on her as she dances, effortlessly sliding up and down the pole.

“She’s something, isn’t she?” Havoc asks, equally entranced by the girl who has my thoughts in turmoil.

“She sure is,” I reply, momentarily forgetting who I’m talking with.

If only he knew I was a cop, he wouldn’t dare try to intimidate me. In reality, he should be the one intimidated, but I can’t fucking risk blowing my cover when 13 and I have already crossed the line from right to wrong in a matter of hours.

“She’s fucking mine, Red. You understand that?” He growls, an aura of aggression radiating from him.

“You don’t own her, Havoc. I refuse to let you take her,” I respond, meeting his gaze firmly. “If you want her, you’ll have to fight me for her.”

“I’m not fighting you,” he scoffs. “Just know your fucking place. Unlike you, I won’t hesitate to kill someone, especially for the girl I love.” He seems surprised by his own admission.

Without a word, he rises and departs, dragging Crow down a dimly lit VIP corridor at the back of the club. I chuckle and seize the moment to make my move on Whitney while there’s no audience. 13 remains seated, vigilant with his phone in hand, ready to alert me when Havoc and Crow return. He’s always been a dependable partner, even through the treacherous undercover operations we’ve undertaken together.

“Nice dance,” I whisper into Whitney’s ear, assisting her off the stage, secretly wishing her mask wasn’t obscuring her face.

“I saw you watching the entire time,” she laughs, a hint of nervousness in her voice. "You actually made me nervous."

“I don’t know why you’d be nervous. It’s not like this is the first time I’ve watched you dance.” I intertwine my fingers with hers, holding her hand tightly as we navigate through the club toward a different hallway—the one that Havoc didn’t vanish down.

On her own accord, Whitney leads me into a secluded room, shutting the door behind us. She exudes confidence as she pushes me onto the plush leather couch, mirrors surrounding us. Once she sits on my lap, her hands resting on my shoulders, I realize I’m completely fucking done for. There’s no fucking way I can resist her. Our masks come off instantly, and the urge to kiss her becomes uncontrollable.

"Whitney," I moan as she grinds against me, her body igniting a fire within my fucking soul.

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