Page 149 of Wicked and Claimed

“Absolutely.” Kane nodded. “Let’s go. And don’t die.”

They all tucked their earpieces in place just before the device powered down.

The elevator arrived. Inside, four men Nash didn’t recognize—feds maintaining their covers as buyers—nodded in greeting.

Downstairs, the ballroom doors stood open, spilling forth golden light and the murmur of voices. Inside, the usual mix of wealthy degenerates milled about in designer suits, but the atmosphere crackled with anticipation as Nash and his fellow operatives hunted for their row.

He swept his gaze over the room, cataloging details with practiced precision. Three exits besides the main doors—all guarded. A service entrance near the stage. No windows. At least twenty armed security personnel positioned strategically around the perimeter, plus whatever backup lurked backstage. The crowd itself had swelled to nearly two hundred, all of them potential hostiles if things went sideways.

“Did you hear?” A middle-aged man in Armani clutched his champagne with a leering smile. “Black Velvet is actually here. I want to shake his hand.”

“Impossible.” His companion scoffed. “No one’s ever seen him.”

“But I think it’s true. Something big is happening tonight. I feel it.”

As they settled into their seats, Nash exchanged glances with Kane and Ethan. They definitely hadn’t factored that surprise into their plan. If Black Velvet really was here, why had he come tonight? Why now, of all times?

Coincidence? As he’d heard Haisley say,that’s too coincidental to be a coincidence.

“I don’t like it,” he grumbled.

“Same.” Ethan fidgeted beside him. “But let’s keep it on a wait-and-see.”

Kane smothered a curse. “Time for your A-game, boys.”

Suddenly, the lights dimmed. The black velvet curtains parted. Gray appeared on the stage, mic in hand, resplendent in white tie and tails. The crowd fell silent.

Being a remote bidder last time, they’d missed most of the auction’s elegance and pomp. But this fucking performance had the production value of a polished Hollywood show.

“Distinguished guests,” their smarmy host greeted. “Tonight is indeed special. Not only do we have exceptional merchandise…” He gestured to the line of terrified women being herded across the stage to the cheers and catcalls of all the men in attendance. “Your enthusiasm is a testament to our success. But I can’t take credit. In fact, no one here can. We owe it all to one person—the visionary who created this paradise, Black Velvet. Never has our fearless leader chosen to join us in person for an event, so tonight is a very rare treat, indeed. How about some applause?”

Clapping rippled through the crowd until it became a rousing ovation. Nash had a bad feeling… His stomach plummeted to his toes. He patted his jacket to ensure he could easily reach the weapon concealed inside. Beside him, Kane and Ethan did the same.

The auction proceeded with excruciating slowness. Nash’s nerves stretched tighter with each lot sold, each woman’s terror. Each minute that passed by without knowing when Black Velvet would appear or why he’d come. Nash thought of Haisley alone in their suite and prayed she wouldn’t need that gun.

Finally, Gray raised his hands. “Before we proceed with the special lots and our ever-popular breeders, I give you the genius behind the Velvet Cove. The architect of all your darkest pleasures… Black Velvet!”

The house lights dimmed. A spotlight hit the curtain as a figure emerged—slim and graceful, wearing an elaborate black mask adorned with jet beads and obsidian. Gasps echoed through the crowd as one thing became absolutely obvious.

Black Velvet wasn’t a man.

Something about the woman’s petite figure and the way she moved about in her black, floor-length gown tugged at Nash’s memory. But he couldn’t place it.

Dread twisted in his chest as she took the mic from Gray’s hands and lifted it to her mouth. “My dear friends. Welcome to my sanctuary. Here, in the Velvet Cove, we’ve created something extraordinary—a place where men can embrace their truest nature without judgment or shame. Where the desires others call dark are encouraged and celebrated. Where power finds its purest expression.”

She glided across the stage, her black velvet sheath catching the light. “But there are those who would deny you these freedoms. Who would chain the mighty and worship the weak. Who would rob you of your rightful dominion.”

Nash gritted his teeth as appreciative murmurs rippled through the crowd.

“That is why we maintain absolute secrecy. Why we guard our paradise so carefully.” She paused. “And why we must be eternally vigilant against those who would infiltrate our ranks to destroy us from within.”

With a fluid motion, she removed her mask. Caramel hair fell in perfect waves around a face Nash knew all too well.

Mila Benedict.

Holy fucking shit.

She stood center stage, her smile razor-sharp. Unlike the woman he’d last seen in the Benedict Land Development’s offices, this Mila was neither nervous nor cowering. She was a viper ready to strike.

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