Page 5 of The Sins That Bleed
“Update me, Zyon.”
There is no need for niceties, we operate like well-practiced dancers.
“There’s been some trouble down on the tenth floor. One of the dancers exes, if the intel I received is correct, has shown up and he’s refusing to leave. He has a weapon and is holding her in a room, which is why it hasn’t been swiftly taken care of by now.”
He has a melodic lilt to his accent that makes him sound calm and friendly, but I know better. We’ve grown close over the years and when he’s not handling business, he’s a relaxed and funny guy. When he’s calm like this, it tells me he’s seething.
Not good news.
“Spill, Zyon, something has you upset.”
“He made herbleed.” I can feel the anger rising from him and it matches the flare of my own at the news.
I pivot at the end of the hall. Instead of heading left to my office, I march right. I’m at the elevator in no time thanks to the speed being a vampire gives me, Zyon on my heels and punching the button for me.
This elevator is purely my own, so I don’t have to wait for the car to arrive. The onyx doors woven with veins of red barely slide open before we’re inside, heading down to the tenth floor.
I’m furious. How dare someone come into my establishment and harm one of my girls. He’ll regret the day he showed up here. I can’t wait to take my time tearing him apart and making him beg for a mercy that won’t come.
We reach the tenth floor and I storm across the glistening floors, careful to go at a human’s pace down here, which is infuriatingly sluggish. It makes me want to poke my own eyes out. Speaking of which, I’m grateful for the crimson lighting that blends with my eyes, so nobody knows what colour they are.
Low, erotic music filters through the hidden speakers of the dancers’ lounge where I find those who are supposed to be on stage and performing huddled together with a few of the security team.
I don’t stop as I bark my orders, desperate to get to my girl in danger. “Keep them safe. Nobody comes in or out of this room unless me or Zyon say so, got it? And for fucks sake, get them a gown before the shock settles in.”
Echoes of ‘Yes ma’am’ reach my ears before I’m in the hall leading to the centre of the Cherry Poppers strip club.
“Zyon, get someone on those doors.”
“On it.”
I hear him speaking into the device that allows him to communicate with our security team and it’s only a matter of seconds before two of them are running past us to hold the doors.
The lounge comes into view, the soft cherry-red of the furnishings giving the room a sultry feel, at odds with the reality that someone is currently in danger. At least they cleared it of patrons. I’m going to have to send them apology gifts and hope it doesn’t harm business once I’ve dealt with this.
“They’re in the peaches room, ma’am.” Zyon confirms and I stride around the circular stage to the fruit named private rooms.
Once in the darkened area of the private rooms, I spot a few of the security team stood on either side of the open door. They throw a look of relief my way now that I’m here to take control of the situation—it must be bad if they need me to deal with it.
My security are tough bastards, hand-picked by me.
I’m hit with the metallic scent of blood. My body lights up but I push the sensation down. I’ve mastered ignoring the call of the divine liquid of life that has the monster within me ready to ravage human flesh, and I’m grateful for it now as I stand in the doorway of the peaches room.
There’s blood everywhere.Shit.
My eyes scan the scene before me, quicker than any humans could, and I notice the splatter over the furniture, walls, and floor. Angry slashes that look like paint and Sally, my poor dancer who’s caught up in this horrific situation, is on her knees before the peach-coloured couch, the guy I assume is her ex hiding behind her.
Coward.
He presses a long flick-knife into her throat, but it’s already covered in her blood. Some from her neck but mostly from the wounds all over her where she must have fought him. Pride rushes through me that she had the balls to stand up for herself, but my rage is stronger—she should have never been put through this ordeal in the first place.
I’ve failed her, but I will make him pay.
“So, you’re the motherfucker that decided today would be a good day to harm one ofmydancers, inmyestablishment?”
His reedy body tenses, holding her closer and pressing the knife deeper into her skin, blood bubbling up and over the blade.
It reminds me of a fonder time, when I took my husband’s life.
