Page 22 of Submitting to Daddy
Blackness curls at the edge of my vision as I fight to stay awake, even though I’m certain I don’t want to be for what I know is coming.
Cillian is going to lose his fucking mind when he finds out.
When I finally reach the club, I park in the alley and make my way through the back entrance. My boots are still splattered with blood, and my hands are still stained—red streaks running through the deep grooves of my knuckles. It’s not normal for me to come here after we go to the warehouse, and I should’ve gone home to clean up and change before re-entering the club. But there wasn’t time—not after I promised her we’d finish this when I returned. And Ineedto finish that conversation.
I scan the club floor, weaving through the patrons and dancers, but there’s no sign of her. I check with the bartender—he doesn’t remember the last time he saw her. Heading back where I came from, I push open the door to the dressing room and ignore the quick pause in conversation that happens assoon as I enter. “Anyone seen Madison?” I ask, my voice rough.
They blink at me with collective blank stares. “Who?” one of them finally asks—some new girl whose name I need to learn.
“Raven.” I grit my teeth. “Have any of you seen Raven?”
“Oh. Her. No, not for a bit,” a blonde—Diamond, if I remember right—answers, gesturing at the vanity next to her. “But her stuff is still here.”
I turn without another word and head straight for security—my chest tightening. The hallway seems longer than usual, the hum of the club fading behind me, drowned out by the thunder of my pulse. I slap the door open and barge in, already barking orders. “Pull up the floor cams. Dressing room. Bar. VIP. All of them.”
Mark doesn’t ask why. He scrolls through the feeds as I lean over his shoulder, scanning every screen with ruthless precision. I spot her and instantly see red. She’s in VIP with Hudson. The sleazy bastard has his hands on her. His grin is as fucking wide as her thighs straddling his lap, and every inch of my self-control burns away.
“Zoom in,” I demand. Mark hesitates, and I shout, “Now!” He does, and the feed sharpens just as Hudson grabs her hips. She climbs from his lap, wearing her uncomfortable smile but trying to play it cool. I lean closer to the screen, blood already roaring in my ears. Her lips form words I can’t hear, but I can read the intent. She tries to create space, but he follows until he’s looming over her. I watch the scene playing before me like it’s in slow motion until he hits her. The first blow is bad, splitting open her lower lip. The second is far worse, and I watch her crumble like a rag doll. My heart leaps into mythroat as her body slams against the floor.She’s not getting up.“Where thefuckis security?”
“I… um…” Mark fumbles for his headset to call them as I bolt from the office. I make my way up the back stairs two—maybe three—at a time, needing to get to her. Racing across the VIP floor with my eyes focused on the end of the hall, a single thought races through my head.He hurt her, and he’s going to die.
I reach the room and kick the door open so hard it nearly flies off the hinges, and my heart sinks the second I see her. Madison is on the ground, trembling, blood streaking the corner of her mouth, and one eye already swelling. Her eyes are barely open, fluttering like she’s fighting against the darkness. Hudson is standing over her, his pants splayed, and his cock in his hand.
Rage doesn’t begin to describe what I feel as I rush toward Hudson. He opens his mouth, but I don’t give him the opportunity to speak. I throw my fist against his jaw with a sickening crack. My second punch breaks his nose, and the third shatters his cheekbone. He stumbles backward—blood already gushing from his face—and I grab the front of his shirt to keep him upright to slam my fist into his mouth again. Blood splatters across my shirt, and two of his teeth clatter across the tile floor like dice.
He staggers to the side, and I go with him. Raining down punches in quick succession the moment we hit the floor. His head flails from side-to-side with every blow, but I don’t stop. Ican’tstop. I hit him again and again, feeling the sickening crunch of cartilage and bone under my split knuckles. I want him to break beneath me, paying for what he did.
“You fucking hurt her,” I snarl, grabbing him by the collar and roughly lifting him from the floor like the fucking trash he is. His face is unrecognizable—swollen, bruised, and covered in blood. I drive my fist into him again. “You put your fucking hands on her like she was yours?—”
“Cian!” Nikolai shouts from behind me, but I ignore him. “Cillian?—”
“—like you thought you had the right?—”
“Cillian!”Enzo shouts, gripping my shoulder and pulling my attention from what’s left of Hudson. I slam his head into the floor for good measure and climb from his limp body as Madison lets out a pained groan. My hands are shaking from the adrenaline coursing through my veins—or maybe from the fear that she isn’t okay—as I crawl across the floor to her.
Kneeling beside her, every ounce of rage bleeds from my body. What it leaves behind is so much worse—regret and pain. She’s still slumped on her side, her chest rattling with shallow, shaky inhales. I brush the hair from her face, my stomach twisting at what he did to her. “Oh, Madison…” My voice breaks as I use the cuff of my sleeve to gently wipe the blood from her lip.
Her lips part, and a harrowing whimper blows over them as she tries futilely to open her eyes. I slip my arms beneath her carefully—one under her knees and the other cradling her back—and lift her from the floor. Madison’s body folds into mine, and something in my chest crumples at the feeling; like even though she’s hurt, she belongs here. Her head lolls against my shoulder, and her soft breath ghosts over my throat. I press my lips to her temple and murmur, “It’s going to be okay.”
She stirs a little, and I lightly shush against her forehead as I carry her toward the door, hoping to soothe her. Enzo quickly covers her with his jacket for some modesty, then walks before us, clearing a path to the stairwell. Nikolai follows, quietly telling security to clean up the blood and to dispose of the bastard still crumpled on the floor.
Her lips move, vibrating against my collarbone as she mumbles something so softly that I’m not able to make out. I pull her tighter and press my lips to her temple. My voice shakes as I whisper the words I should’ve said the second I found her: “You’re safe, firecracker. Daddy’s got you.”
Daddy’s always got you…
The world rocks and sways like I’m on a dinghy boat tossing in the ocean as I struggle to open my eyes. A steady heartbeat thuds beneath my ear, heavy and fast. Tires hum against the pavement, and the low rumble of an engine nearly drowns out the thump beneath me.
I’m not sure whether I’m dreaming or dead.
A warm arm wraps around me, strong and unyielding—but gentle and familiar. The rich, spiced scent of his cologne registers as my foggy brain tries to catch up to what is happening.Cillian. His chest rises and falls beneath me, and my trembling fingers curl involuntarily into the front of his shirt. “Cillian…” I lift my head just enough to slur, “Where… are you taking me?”
“Home,” he answers without hesitation.
I blink, trying to focus. Streetlights blur past us in amber streaks, flashing through the windshield. We’re in a car. His car. And I’m in his lap—in the driver’s seat.
Maybe this is a dream…
Pushing from his chest—slowly and awkwardly—I try to slide toward the passenger seat, but his arm tightens possessively around me. “No.” His voice is low and benevolent, almost a growl. “I’ve let you push me away long enough.” My heart stutters at the way he says it. Every word laced with regret, like what happened in that room was his fault.
