Page 105 of Reaper Flame

From my last visit to the Maven, I knew that tunnels led away from the underground pit where the parties took place. Only someone who spent a lot of time here would know they existed.

“I’d heard rumors about this place,” Zander explained. His voice reverberated off of the stone and gave it an added depth. “My grandfather used this route for smuggling, or so my father says.”

“Is it still used now?”

“My father prefers to do business above ground,” Zander replied curtly. He paced along the tunnel, taking various turns left and right. The place was like a maze. “But I used to explore these tunnels when I was a kid. When my father cut me off, I slept here for a few weeks. Anywhere was better than the manor.”

“Youslepthere?”

I couldn’t imagine a kid who was used to a lavish lifestyle sleeping in dingy tunnels underneath a shipping yard.

“I did, until West found out and let me couch surf at his dad’s place,” Zander said. I couldn’t see his face but detected the slight smile in his tone. “Shortly after that, we moved to Hammerville and opened Seven Sins.”

There was so much more to Zander than his suit, ruthless efficiency and panty-igniting face tattoos. He may have grown up in privilege, but it’d spat him back out again, and he was forced to forge a new life for himself in the darkness.

I kicked a couple of empty beer bottles away, and Zander cleared his throat. “We’re almost there.”

The Maven lay at the rotten heart of Port Valentine’s underground network. The surrounding tunnels were like veins, drawing us in with every step, along with the music bouncing off the damp walls. A party was happening a few turns away, but all we had for company was vermin. Although rats were probably better than those who Bryce had invited to his private party.

Suddenly, Zander stopped in his tracks, blocking me from going any further. “I want you to promise me something before we go in.”

“We don’t have time for this,” I huffed, trying to shove past him. For all we knew, the others already had their eyes on Hiram and were waiting for us to make the final move.

Zander didn’t let me pass. He seized my shoulders to stop me.

“Promise me that you won’t do anything stupid,” he said. “I meant what I said, Candy. I will not lose you too.”

“I can’t make that promise,” I said, meeting his gaze. An intense look passed between us. His gray eyes explored mine almost pleadingly, but I couldn’t give him what he wanted. “But I promise I’ll try.”

“That’s all I can ask,” he said, breaking our stare and taking my hand.

The ceiling of the tunnel widened as we neared the music. Needles and used condoms appeared on our path like a trail of breadcrumbs leading into depravity.

The Sevens had arrived.

* * *

For an exclusive party, I expected the guestlist to be small. I was wrong. The crowd crammed into the Maven was as large as the infamous full moon party. After his fall from grace, Bryce hadn’t lost all of his supporters.

Zander was right in choosing for us to enter in a less conventional way. Coming down the staircase declared your arrival if anyone was looking in that direction, but we blended straight into the party. Zander’s hand gripped onto mine as we headed to the dance floor.

Every motion was a snapshot under the strobe lights. The smell of liquor, cheap perfume, sweat and next-day sex hung in the air. Around us, men slipped fifty-dollar bills into unlucky women’s bras and fell away from the dance floor into the tunnels we’d left behind. Those who weren’t trying to get laid had come down with a hay fever attack from the amount of coke they were snorting. We shoved past a group of men snorting a thick line of white powder from a girls’ beach-ball-like breasts and shook our heads to decline two bags of pills being passed around like candies.

It’s easy to see how the Maven developed its reputation. It remains the ultimate place to let loose your darkest, innermost desires. The Maven symbolizes freedom, but an untamed wilderness simmers underneath the surface. Fucking and drugs were only the tip of the iceberg.

At this point in the night, the party had been going on for hours. The good-time vibe would soon slip into something more sinister. Serious conversations about deals and business will have passed. Everyone was warming up for the main event. They were sharpening their knives, and they’d be coming for blood. If I had my way, we’d be the first to spill it.

“We need to get to a vantage point,” I said.

Any kind of elevation would help. Crowds of sticky-skinned people packed together made it hard to see anything other than the circle of faces directly next to you. Without a better view, we were walking targets. Hiram could be anywhere, and he’d have eyes in every corner. Whispers would soon make their way to him about uninvited guests if they hadn’t already.

“Fucking move!” I hissed, winding a guy three times my size with my knee to get by.

Another slimeball leered and reached to grab my ass, but a furious glare from Zander was enough to send him scurrying back into the safety of the crowd. The Briarly name meant something, or maybe it was a perk of being the host’s son. As we emerged from the dance floor pit, Bryce Briarly hovered like a prowling dog monitoring the perimeter.

“Look who it is!” Bryce came to greet us. His mouth twisted into a snarl. “You seem to have a habit of showing up to my parties uninvited, son.”

“This isn’t a social call,” Zander spat.

---