I shift uncomfortably in the back seat of the strange SUV that Harry and I have found ourselves in. The two men in the front seats haven't said a word since we got in the car. The silence is thick with confusion, and maybe a little bit of fear.
"Where are you taking us?" Harry asks, his right hand sliding over to my inner thigh to pull me closer to him.
The gesture is comforting, but not enough to ease the anxiety coursing through my veins.
"You'll find out when we get there," the driver says roughly, his voice low and monotoned.
"This is fucking ridiculous," Harry scoffs, shaking his head.
I pick anxiously at my cuticles, my mind racing with all of the possibilities of where we could be going. With the mess we've gotten ourselves into, it could literally be anywhere. We still don't even know who these guys are.
Harry originally told them no when they ordered us to get in the car, but the second the driver pulled out his pistol, we knew we had no other choice.
"A- Are you guys with Charles?" I ask meekly.
I notice Harry out of my peripheral vision, looking at me with wide eyes. He told me when we were walking to the car to not say anything, but I'm a part of this too. I feel like I've earned the right to ask questions.
The two men exchange looks before the driver stares at me through the rear view mirror. "Yes," he responds, flicking his eyes back to the road.
Oddly enough, the information calms my nerves. At least now I have an idea of who we're with.
The car falls silent, and all I can hear is my own heart thumping loudly in my ears as Harry laces his fingers with mine, giving my hand a gentle squeeze. I turn my head to see him staring at me, with an expression on his face that I can't read. When my eyes meet his, the corners of his lips turn upwards to give me a small, reassuring smile before he brings my hand up to place a soft kiss on my knuckles.
I feel my cheeks flush, the gesture triggering a fit of butterflies low in my stomach. Even in a fucked up situation like this, he still manages to make me feel good.
I'll never understand how he does it.
Harry strokes my hand with his thumb for the rest of the silent ride, and I watch as we pull up to what looks like a nightclub. A huge sign that reads 'The Red Room' in red, glowing letters hangs above the entrance, where groups of people are filtering in and out. I furrow my brows as the car comes to a stop right in front of the doors.
"What are we doing here?" I ask, looking at the two men.
They say nothing as the car doors unlock. When Harry and I hesitate, the driver finally speaks up. "Get out," he orders harshly.
I sigh heavily as I open the door, and slide outside.
"Asshole," Harry spits before he slams the door behind him.
His brows are pinched down angrily, his nostrils flaring as he clenches his fists. I pull my bottom lip between my teeth as I watch him seethe, the sight making me feel uneasy. I haven't seen him angry since Thanksgiving, and I would be perfectly content never seeing it again. He's terrifying when he gets like this.
Harry seems to notice my concern, because his expression softens when his eyes scan my face. "I'm sorry," he clears his throat before taking my hand in his.
He looks as if he's genuinely feeling guilty.
I purse my lips, shaking my head in response. He brings his finger up to rest under my chin, lifting it so I'm looking up at him. His intense gaze causes my breath to catch in my throat.
"I am sorry," he repeats, his eyes flicking back and forth between mine. "I'll try to control my anger tonight, okay?"
My brows raise in surprise, that being the last thing I expected him to say. He's never really acknowledged his anger issue, outside of apologizing for snapping at me.
It feels like a step in the right direction.
"Okay," I say softly, giving him a small smile before standing on my toes to press a kiss on his lips.
When I pull away, he's looking down at me with adoration, a wide smile on his face. Having his eyes on me causes my chest to flutter, and I have to avert my gaze to my feet.
I don't think I'll ever get used to the way he makes me feel.
"Come on," he finally says, taking my hand and leading me into the loud nightclub.
When we step inside, the first thing I notice is how smokey the dark space is, the smell of cigarettes and weed filling the room. I crinkle my nose as Harry continues to pull me through the crowd.
The lights are dim, to the point where the room is nearly black, aside from a few red spotlights circling around the floor. In the center of the room is a large stage with a pole, a nearly-naked girl swinging around it. All she has on is a sequined thong, yet she looks totally comfortable up there with all of the attention on her.
Honestly, props to her. I could never be that confident.
"Where do you think he is?" I ask Harry over the loud bass.
I can see his eyes scanning the room, though it would be hard to make anyone out in this crowd. We're basically packed wall-to-wall like sardines in here.
Surely, this must be a fire hazard.
"Katie! Harry! You made it!" I hear a deep voice shout just a few feet behind us.
We turn around to see Charles standing with his arms open, and a wide smile on his face. I swallow harshly, tightening my grip on Harry's hand. I don't care how friendly he acts towards us, that man is fucking terrifying.
"We didn't really have much of a choice, did we?" Harry asks in annoyance.
Charles eyes flicker with some emotion I don't recognize, the smile on his face dropping for just a moment. "Would either of you like a drink?" He offers, lifting his own glass containing some kind of amber liquid.
"We're fine, thanks," Harry responds dryly.
Charles flicks his eyes down to me, as if to silently ask me the question again. My mouth goes dry, and all I can do is shake my head.
"Very well," he clears his throat. "Please, follow me."
He pushes past us and begins walking deeper into the crowd before Harry and I glance at each other hesitantly. All I want is for him to say fuck it, and get us the hell out of here, but I know that would be a terrible idea.
Harry nods his head in Charles's direction, and places his hand on the small of my back, giving me a gentle nudge to follow him.
Charles leads us to an isolated door tucked nearly out of sight in the back of the club. Max is standing right in front of it, as if he's protecting something - or someone. When he notices us, he steps to the side, opening the door for Charles to enter first.
The room is huge, much larger than I would have expected. The ceiling is high, with modern chandeliers made out of round, glass bulbs scattered across it. In the center of the room is a red, c-shaped couch, with a poker table in the middle. The green, felt tabletop is covered haphazardly with chips and cards, as if they were abandoned mid-game. A giant flat-screen hangs on the wall, facing the couch, with the screen turned off.
The art on the walls is all abstract, marked with painted circles, squares, and lines. The color of the paint is striking, the dark red against the black canvases sticking out like a sore thumb against the crisp white walls. A long bar is tucked into the corner of the room, with very expensive bottles of liquor and wine on the shelves behind it, and three red, leather barstools lined up in front.
Harry and I stand by the now-closed door, watching as Charles makes his way over to the bar to replenish his drink.
"Are you sure I can't get you anything to drink?" He offers us again. "I've got the best of the best here."
I roll my eyes at his claim, his pretentious attitude annoying the hell out of me. I've always hated it when people flaunt their wealth, especially as shamelessly as Charles does it.
"Again, we're fine," Harry snaps, and I nudge him in his side with my elbow before looking up at him with wide eyes.
We're in Charles's territory right now. We're stuck in a strange room, with one of his henchmen standing guard outside. The last thing we need is to piss him off and get ourselves killed.
"Relax, Harry," Charles chuckles, walking towards us with a full drink and his free hand tucked into his pant's pocket.
His black suit is clean, and looks freshly pressed, with a white button-up underneath his blazer. His hair is slicked back perfectly with gel, and his face is clean-shaven, as per usual. He always looks so put-together, as if he's constantly dressed to impress.
I guess he can afford to do all of that.
"I just wanted to have a little chat with the both of you, is all," Charles says, gesturing to the couch with his hand for us to sit down.
We follow his order, though we remain close to the end of the couch. Charles sits down straight across from us, resting his drink on the table in front of him.
"What about?" Harry wonders cautiously, his hand finding mine to lace our fingers together.
"I have a proposition for you," he explains. "A sort of business proposition, I guess you could say."
My brows furrow at his statement. He has a wicked smile on his face as he says it, making my nerves skyrocket. We're already selling him thousands of dollars worth of drugs, what more does he want from us?
"What kind of proposition?" I ask, my voice sounding weaker than I intended.
"I'm looking for some girls to come and work for me here," he says, leaning back against the couch and resting his arm over the top.
"This place is yours?" Harry questions, glancing around the room.
"Sure is," Charles laughs. "Just a way to make a little extra money."
As if he needs the extra money.
It takes everything in me to not roll my eyes again.
"The only issue is that there are other clubs monopolizing the territory."
"What does that have to do with us?" Harry scoffs.
"I need your help recruiting some girls for me," Charles states with a smile.
His eyes are dark, and lifeless. It looks as if he has no soul; maybe he sold it to the devil, and that's why he's as terrifying as he is.
"Why do we have to do it?" I speak up, my heart pounding heavily in my chest.
"So glad you asked, Katie," he responds, moving his arm to clasp his hands together on the table in front of him. "I'm wanting your help, specifically."
My eyes widen, and my head snaps to look at Harry. His brows are pinched together, his jaw clenched tightly. Even from the side, I can see the anger painting his face.
"W- Why me?" I croak, looking back at the man across from us.
"You look trustworthy," he continues. "Sunny loved you-"
"You know Sunny?" I ask hesitantly.
Harry told me that Jay sent us to them, not Charles.
"Of course I do," he laughs, shaking his head at me. "They've planned a few parties for me. They were raving about you."
I think back to the night I met Sunny, the way they said they liked me, all while inspecting their small handgun. If they "loved me", they sure had a funny way of showing it.
I shake my head in disbelief, an exasperated chuckle leaving me.
"I think you give off the energy of innocence," he shrugs. "People like that. They're more likely to listen to you, to work with you."
"What would that even entail?" I ask nervously, my hand clutching Harry's tightly.
I can feel the fear coursing through my veins. Does this mean I have to meet people by myself more often now? I don't know how to defend myself.
I don't think I can do this.
My head begins to spin, the feeling of a panic attack threatening to take over.
"You're going to go to a few of the clubs in the area, and talk to the girls that work there." He lifts his glass to take a long swig of his drink. "The owners will be less suspicious of having a woman there. They would never suspect someone as pretty, and as sweet as you coming to steal their talent."
My cheeks flush with embarrassment. Compliments coming from him cause my stomach turn, making me nauseous.
"She's not doing that," Harry speaks up, his voice sounding harsh.
Charles's smile falters to a devious smirk, his eyes flicking to something above my head. Just as I'm about to turn around, I hear a sharp 'click' above my ear, and feel something hard pressed against my head. I feel the blood drain from my face as I attempt to swallow the lump in my throat. From the corner of my eye, I can see Max standing to my left, holding what I suspect is a gun to my head.
I didn't even hear him come into the room.
"The thing is, Harry," Charles chuckles, standing up from the couch, and tucking his hands in his pockets. "You don't have a fucking choice."
I feel a rush of tears pool at my waterline, my bottom lip quivering as I sit, frozen in fear. Harry's hand is still in mine, and I can feel him beginning to shake. I'm not sure if it's from fear, or anger, but knowing he's just as freaked out as I am makes me feel so much worse.
He's the one that's supposed to keep it together.
"Just... leave her out of this, please," he begs, his voice wavering.
My bottom lip trembles, and the tears begin to spill down my cheeks when Max pushes the barrel of the gun harder into the side of my head.
"I can't do that," Charles sighs, shaking his head as he steps up to me. "I'm going to need Katie for this one."
His tone is low, and threatening as he brings his hand up to brush softly against my cheek. The action causes my breath to catch in my throat, and I can't help the sob that slips past my lips.
"Don't fucking touch her," Harry threatens as he begins to stand up from his seat.
"Make another move, and Max will pull the trigger," Charles says calmly, his eyes fixated intensely on Harry. "I will not hesitate to kill your girlfriend in front of you."
I can hear Harry's heavy breathing beside me as he slowly sits back down. The threat causes another wave of nausea to hit me, and it takes everything in me to not vomit on the table right here, and now.
"I- I'll do it," I choke out through my cries, the salty tears coating my lips. "Please just put the gun down. I'll do it, okay?"
"Katie, no-"
"Harry, stop talking," I say lowly through gritted teeth, my eyes briefly flicking in his direction.
Harry's lips snap shut, and he hangs his head in defeat. I hate speaking to him like this, but he's going to get us killed if he doesn't shut the hell up.
Charles examines my face for a moment with curious eyes before looking at Max, and giving him a nod. I feel the cold metal of the pistol disappear, and I immediately release the breath I didn't realize I had been holding. My hands move to cover my face, and no matter how hard I try, I can't control the sobs echoing from my chest.
"Perfect!" I hear Charles say cheerily.
His voice is like nails on a chalkboard, and it causes rage to build in my stomach. How the fuck can he act like that when he just threatened to kill me? Like this something he does everyday as if it's nothing?
He's fucking sick.
"You two are free to go," he says, and I lift my head up to look at Harry. He looks like he's in pain as the tears well up in his eyes. "We'll be in touch."
Harry nods at me to get up from the couch, and I quickly do so without another thought. We move towards the door, and the entire time, I can feel Charles's eyes burning a hole into the back of my head.
"Have a great night," he calls after us before Harry slams the door.
He turns to face me, a look of panic on his face as he brings his hands up to my cheeks. He grips them firmly while his thumbs wipe away the sticky tears. I can see in the dim light that his own cheeks are wet from crying, and the sight causes my heart to clench.
I hate seeing him cry.
"Are you okay?" He whispers, his eyes scanning my face as if he's memorizing every detail. "I'm so sorry, baby. I'm so fucking sorry."
I pinch my eyes shut, shaking my head. I can't find anything to say.
I'm not fucking okay.
"Let's go," he says hurriedly before leading me back through the crowded club.
He takes us to the back door, which opens up to reveal an alleyway that looks very similar to the one at the venue. That moment we shared at the concert feels like it was years ago, not just a few hours.
The second we're outside, Harry wraps his arms around me and holds me tightly. I can't control my tears, and I bury my face in his shirt after snaking my arms around his waist. I feel as if my knees are about to give out from the intense emotion ripping through me, and the only thing holding me up is his tight grip.
I feel him press kisses into my hair as his body trembles. "I'm sorry, princess," he repeats. "I'm so fucking sorry. I never meant for any of this to happen."
I can hear in his voice how awful he feels, but I don't blame him. It's not his fault. I walked into that fucking warehouse.
It's my fault.
"I promise I will get us out of this, baby," he breathes, pulling away to look seriously into my watery eyes. "I will do everything in my power to keep you safe."
~~~~~
Thank you guys so fucking much for 49k!! I seriously can't believe how much this book has grown. It blows my mind every time I look at the numbers!! Just a little heads up, if you didn't see my announcement, my main focus right now is BLACKHOUSE. For the next little while, I'll only be updating this book. So get ready for what's next. I love you all so much <3