Page 98 of The Delta's Rogue
I adopt a smooth, disinterested, and disdainful demeanor, smoothing my lapels and avoiding his eyes to let him know I don’t consider him worth my time.
“Name?” he grunts.
“Henry Brown.”
His eyes glance behind me to the others. “And your guests?”
“Nic Waters, Ulysses Felix, and his…pet.”
The pseudonyms we selected slip off my tongue with ease.
The bouncer nods and unclips the velvet rope from the stand, gesturing to us to enter.
The doors open automatically, and the muted sounds of the music shift to a blaring, heart-thumping, bone-rattling volume.
I grit my teeth, my sensitive hearing rioting, but I continue down the long hallway to the stairs that lead into the club’s underground rooms. Even with the loud music, I hear the heart rates of my companions quicken as we descend the darkened stairs into the club.
The Wolf’s Lair. A fitting name.
Getting inside was the simple part. Now the real game begins.
We reach the laststep on the staircase and enter the main club. I cross my arms as I survey the room, working to keep my expression neutral.
At first glance, it seems no different from the club back home. Tables dot the floor, and booths ring the edge of the room. “Doms” sit at the tables, with subs at their feet or in their laps. They recline in their seats. Their sub entertains them or sits demurely, waiting for their “Dom” to instruct them.
But on closer inspection, it’s clear something is different. Wrong. The booths are in full view. There are no curtains to hide their occupants if they desire the semblance of privacy. The subs all wear silver collars around their necks and have silver cuffs around their ankles and wrists. Their eyes are vacant and defeated and bloodshot, and their bodies are too thin, close to malnourished.
My blood turns to fire in my veins. I knew what we’d witness here tonight would be awful, but nothing prepared me for the reality of seeing it. The clear mistreatment of these females, the utter defeat in their eyes… It’s plain for anyone to see, and none of the males in this building care.
The subs are underfed, forced to perform for and entertain these males, and I’d bet every last penny in every one of my accounts that they’re not allowed a safe word either.
They have no one to fight for them, no one to ensure their physical and mental wellbeing.
But I could. I could tear through this establishment—slicing throats, ripping hands off, and rending heads from bodies. I could throw them to the floor and stomp repeatedly ontheir groins, digging my heel in to ensure their favorite body part never works properly again. Not that they’d be alive to use it.
Their blood would paint the entire club red. The floor wouldn’t be visible from the amount I’d spill from their veins. Their screams would fuel my destruction and be the main theme for the soundtrack of my bloodbath.
“Seb.”
I blink and turn my head towards Dominic.
“Breathe,” he says.
I inhale and exhale, closing my eyes to shut out my view of the room.“This isn’t right. We can’t let this continue.”
“If you go on a rampage, if you kill them all now, everything we’ve been working for will fall apart,”he reminds me.“They’ll know someone is onto them, and they’ll go even more underground.”
I strain my neck and hold back a growl.“We have to save them.”
“And we will. We will save them by keeping up our act, getting info from Nuncio, and getting Sarina to safety. If we save the ones here right now, it will be at the expense of saving Sarina and any other female they’ve captured or will capture. If we wait, we have a higher chance of saving them all.”
He’s right. I know he’s right, but a pit forms in my stomach at the thought of leaving these females to suffer for any longer than they already have.
I force myself to take another deep breath, and another. I focus on his words and rein in my emotions.
We will save them. We will. All of them. And when we do, I will bring terror down on every last male behind this sick and twisted endeavor.
I calm myself just in time.
