Luna’s POV Waking up, I groan softly, rolling over to take in my surroundings. This isn’t the room Dante had locked me in before. It feels more lived in, more personal, and my gut tells me this must be his bedroom. The room itself is a testament to luxury. The walls are painted in deep, muted tones, giving the space a warm, inviting feel. A massive king-sized bed dominates the center, dressed in dark, plush linens that feel like they’re made from the finest fabric. The headboard stretches up the wall, upholstered in dark velvet with a modern design. To my right, floor-to-ceiling windows are draped with heavy curtains in a rich charcoal gray, drawn closed but letting in slivers of light. The floors are polished hardwood, partially covered by a large, thick rug, so soft it practically swallows my feet when I touch it. Three doors are spaced along the walls, leading to who knows where. Climbing out of bed, I wince, groaning again as I notice the blood on the sheets. Great. Dante might
Luna’s POV Dante gestures toward me, his gaze unwavering, intense. “What?” I whisper, unsure of what he’s expecting. “You have questions, Luna. I know you have a lot to ask, so go ahead.” I do have questions—too many, really. But all of them lead down a path I’m not ready to face. If I ask the wrong thing, this entire fragile situation could crumble. And deep down, I know I’m not ready to be told the ugly truth about his business. “Is your plan to ignore your questions?” he presses, his voice challenging, as if daring me to confront him. I close my eyes in frustration, my hands clenching at my sides. “No,” I snap, “my plan is to try and ignore this whole thing. Your business, what you do, everything.” His head tilts slightly, and a dark laugh escapes him. “You still think I sell and abuse women, don’t you?” His voice is sharp, almost mocking. “I thought we’d moved past that. But you still think I sell women?” I stiffen, my mind racing. What am I supposed to think? I glare at h
Luna POVAs we leave, I can still hear the sounds of pleasure from the other side of the glass, and the image of three men tangled together lingers in my mind, leaving me more confused than ever about this place—and about Dante. Dante opens another door, and as I step in, my heart pounds. This room is similar to the others—dark, luxurious, and almost too perfect. Through the large one-way window, I see a woman with two men. They’re all engaged in a scene that seems intimate but controlled, completely at ease in what they’re doing. “So, what?” I snap, the frustration bubbling up again. “These people in these rooms... they’re hookers? Prostitutes?” Dante’s expression hardens immediately, and his voice is fierce. “Don’t call them hookers or prostitutes. Working women, working men, yes. But they’re not hookers.” The disgust in his tone is unmistakable, and it throws me off. “Sorry,” I mutter, unsure of what else to say. His reaction isn’t what I expected, and for the first time, I rea
Luna’s POV The elevator doors slide open, and Dante steps out with that confident stride, but I stay rooted to the spot, my arms crossed defiantly. I don’t care if I look like a stubborn brat. I am not moving. The thought of walking out there, accepting any part of this twisted reality, makes my stomach twist. It feels like giving in—like agreeing that everything I’ve seen is normal, when it’s anything but. Dante turns to face me, eyebrow raised, the patience in his expression thinning, but I just stare right back. He sighs, long and heavy, before stepping back into the elevator. His arm wraps around my waist, and before I can react, he lifts me clean off the floor. I thrash, my legs kicking at him wildly, fists flailing like a cat being dunked in water. “I can walk!” I yell, aiming a half-hearted kick at his chest, but it’s useless. He doesn’t even flinch. “I’m perfectly aware of that,” he says, voice cold and calm, like he’s merely remarking on the weather. “But I don’t care. If
Dante’s POV I watch her, waiting for her to crack, for her to let something—anything—slip past the walls she’s so carefully built. Luna doesn’t let anyone in, not really. Sure, there’s Lucy, but even that feels guarded. Justin was always on the outside of those walls, and now I can see her fighting to keep me there too. This battle, her resistance, the biting words—it’s her defense. It’s her way of pushing me away, keeping me out of the place where she’s most vulnerable. But I see it. I see the truth she’s afraid to face. She knows that if she lets me in, if she stops fighting me and lets down those walls, she won’t be able to use the excuse of mistrust. She won’t be able to shove me out. She’ll have to face the fact that she’s not alone in her darkness anymore. And that terrifies her. All I want is to walk beside her through that darkness. I want to prove to her that there’s more than just hiding, that opening up isn’t a death sentence. But she’s making this harder than I imagined
Dante POVAs I reach her side, I unfasten the restraints around her wrists, her eyes meeting mine with a teasing pout. “What’s with the face?” I chuckle, loosening the last strap. “You promised you’d punish me,” she says, her voice low and sultry. “I was looking forward to it.” If I wasn’t already hard, I would be now. “Later,” I whisper in her ear, “when we’re alone.” Her pout deepens. “But I wanted everyone to see…” “You’re crazy, little deer,” I laugh, unstrapping the last of her bindings and hoisting her up. “Are you going to fight me?” I smirk, then shake my head. “Never mind, don’t answer that.” As expected, she squirms against me, and I slap her ass with a smirk. “I’m carrying you, and you don’t get a choice in the matter.” I lean forward, biting her ass lightly. “By the way, what’s with the outfit?” I had meant to ask her earlier, but she’s excellent at being a distraction. “I was planning on going to work, but you kidnapped me for a tour, so I guess I’ll head there af
Dante POVAs I push open another door, her body stiffens, eyes widening in shock. The room we step into is like an upscale club, but far more decadent. Podium cages line the space, each one holding a man or woman, completely nude, surrounded by an array of sex toys. Some women and men stand on small platforms, others are sprawled luxuriously on velvet couches, their bodies on display. Some are dancing, their movements slow and hypnotic, while others are interacting with the patrons, the air thick with lust and abandon. “This is the main stage area,” I whisper, watching Luna’s eyes dart between the cages and the figures moving within them. There’s a mixture of discomfort and something else playing across her face as she takes in the scene. “People come here to watch, to choose, or sometimes just to enjoy the atmosphere. It’s… well, it’s whatever they want it to be.” She doesn’t respond, doesn’t say a word—just stares, lips slightly parted, her gaze fixed on the figures moving inside
Dante’s POV I didn’t sleep. I couldn’t. My mind kept circling back to that room, replaying every second, trying to make sense of it. What was it that triggered her? Every aspect of that room, every piece of it—she’s seen before, in one way or another. And yet, something about it set her off. She didn’t seem phased by the other scenes, so why that room? The thought has gnawed at me all morning. It’s past midday now, the time I’d normally be catching some sleep before the night. But not today. My mind won’t let me rest. I want to keep up the fight we’ve been having, this back-and-forth where I push, and she fights me off but ends up loving it. But right now, pushing her like that? It feels like it would do more harm than good. I need a new plan. Maybe I can use this—whatever last night was—to my advantage. Take her somewhere from her past, see if she’ll open up, talk about it. But fuck, I’m not used to handling something like this. I’ve always been in control, always known the rules
Lilly POVI hold my breath as he continues.“Behind the scenes, this place offers sex work. But it’s not what you’re thinking. Every man who uses these services is vetted extensively before they’re allowed access. Every room is monitored, recorded. The women keep everything they make. It’s not perfect, but it’s safe. Safer than being out on the street, at the mercy of men like Andrew.”His words sink in, and I can’t move. Can’t breathe. My mind races, processing everything. A brothel. A strip club. A place where women sell their bodies—but safely. My lip trembles as I try to make sense of it all. He’s staring at me, waiting for a reaction.He told me about his mother and sister. Is it true? Would he lie about something like that? But he’s helping me, protecting me. Surely that means he’s telling the truth. Doesn’t it?The room feels heavy with Callum’s words, his voice still echoing in my mind. My heart pounds as I process everything he’s said. A brothel—sex work, but safe. Women keep
Lilly POVWhen the doors slide open, I follow him into the depths of this strange new world, the pain of my past still clinging to me, but for the first time in years, the faintest flicker of hope glimmers on the horizon.My eyes dart around the unfamiliar space, trying to take in my surroundings and piece together where I am. The halls are clean, polished, and far too quiet, with an air of something carefully constructed. Callum walks ahead of me, his confident stride unwavering. I trail behind, hesitant but with no better option. My heart races as he pauses, his warm smile softening as he opens a door and gestures for me to follow.The office we step into is sleek but not overly extravagant. The man behind the desk looks up, his eyes sharp but his smile disarmingly kind. His presence is calm, steady, and strangely comforting. He doesn’t stand, doesn’t extend a hand. He simply nods in acknowledgment.“Rachel,” he says, his voice even and measured. “I’m Dante.” His gaze holds mine, no
LillyPain drags me from the depths of unconsciousness, its sharp tendrils gripping every inch of my body. My ribs ache with each shallow breath, and a dull throb pulses behind my eyes. But beneath it all, there’s warmth—thick, heavy, unfamiliar. The softness of the mattress envelops me, the weight of a lavish duvet pressing gently against my battered frame. It’s so unlike the cold, hard surfaces I’ve grown accustomed to. For a fleeting moment, I think I’m dreaming.I try to sit up, a low groan escaping my lips as the effort sends fresh waves of pain coursing through me. Before I can go any further, a hand presses gently against my shoulder, halting me.“Slow down, you’re hurt,” a deep voice says softly, steady and calm, though it carries an undertone of quiet strength. My gaze darts upward, locking onto the man beside me.“Callum,” he says with a faint smile, as though sensing my hesitation. “In case you forgot my name.”Callum. The memory rushes back—his towering frame blocking out
As we ride back down in the elevator, his voice cuts through the silence. “Why do you want to help women like her? What makes you care?”I glance at him, weighing my words carefully. I don’t usually talk about my mother and sister—it’s a wound that never fully heals. But something about his tone tells me he’s asking for more than curiosity.“When I was younger, I noticed my little sister withdrawing, hiding away. She wouldn’t talk to me. Then one day, she turned up dead. My mom… she fell apart. I found out my father had forced her into street work, and when my sister was barely a teen, he sold her off. After my sister’s death, he ran. My mom killed herself not long after.”He doesn’t say anything, just listens. I continue, my voice steady despite the weight of the memories. “My dad wasn’t anyone big, just desperate and cruel. After my mom died, I tracked him down. Killed him myself. Along the way, I met others—men far worse, with entire networks behind them. Helping the women caught i
Callum 2 years earlierThe phone call ends, and I shove the last of my belongings into a battered duffel bag. There’s not much to pack; I’ve been living out of this bag for years, trying to outrun the weight of my past. But nothing makes a difference, not here. Not anywhere. This place was supposed to be a fresh start, but it’s as hollow as every other attempt. Maybe these new clubs will be different. Maybe this will be the answer.For over fifteen years, I’ve been trying to find a way to fix the fucked-up situation my mother and sister were trapped in. To help women who’ve been dragged through the same hell. And finally, I think I’ve found it—or at least the beginning of it.The streets are quiet as I head toward the train station, my boots scuffing against the pavement. The early hour cloaks the world in a heavy silence, broken only by the occasional hum of a distant car. It’s better this way. I need the quiet to figure out my next move. This guy—Dante—is a mystery. All I know is th
Lilly - 4 Years EarlierAndrew leans back in the driver’s seat, his cold eyes cutting through me like a knife. He nods toward the dark, narrow alleyway ahead, a place that reeks of danger and despair. I hesitate, gripping the edge of the car seat as though it might save me. His glare sharpens, slicing through my resolve like glass shattering against stone.“You can run,” he says, his voice dripping with venomous mockery. “Go ahead.” A twisted grin spreads across his face. “Try it. I won’t even chase you.”His finger brushes against my cheek, slow and deliberate, sending bile surging up my throat. I flinch, my breath hitching, but I can’t move. His presence is suffocating, every word laced with malice, every touch a violation.“You say that, but…” My voice cracks, the words dying in my throat.“But your little sister would make the perfect replacement, wouldn’t she?” His voice drops to a whisper, each word coiling around me like a noose. “She’s got that fiery red hair, just like you.”
This is the start of Lilly and Callum's storyCallum - 18 Years OldWaking up feels like clawing my way out of a grave. My body is leaden, pinned to the sagging mattress by the weight of something I can’t name. The air reeks of sweat, stale smoke, and something sour—vomit maybe, or the leftovers of another night wasted in this filthy room. Everything around me is a distorted blur, like looking through cracked glass. The dim light from the cracked blinds barely cuts through the haze, illuminating the chaos I’ve surrounded myself with—empty bottles, burned foil, crumpled syringes, and piles of clothes that haven’t seen a wash in weeks.This time, it’s different. I can feel it in my bones, in the way my heart races and my skin crawls as if there are a thousand invisible insects burrowing under my flesh. I’ve woken up after bad trips before—dozens of times, maybe hundreds. Every time, I’ve brushed myself off, forced my way through the fog, and found my way back to the poison that put me t
Luna POVI toss the pregnancy test down, feeling a wave of relief, but something still gnaws at me. It doesn’t feel real. I pace the room like a madwoman, while Lilly sits there, laughing like this is all some comedy show.“You know it’s over 99% accurate, right? Not 100%” she says, smirking. “Well, in real life it’s more like 92% because, let’s face it, most people don’t know how to use them properly.”I shoot her a death glare. “I take my pill at the exact same time every damn day!” I throw my hands up, and she only laughs harder, clearly entertained by my spiral.“Maybe it’s just wedding stress making you late?” she shrugs, but I can’t buy that. I’ve been way more stressed than this before and my period never played hide and seek like this.“It said ‘not pregnant,’ Luna. Why are you still on this rampage?” she teases, eyes sparkling with amusement.“Until I see actual blood, I will remain on this rampage!” I shout, pacing even faster.Lilly leans back, laughing. “So I take it you d
Dante POVI reach out and gently tilt her chin up so she’s looking directly at me. “Why do you think I haven’t brought up anal?” I ask, my voice soft but firm. “I saw how your body tensed when Justin casually mentioned it once. I knew immediately it was a hard limit for you.”Her cheeks flush, and I laugh. “Am I wrong?” I ask, though I already know the answer.She looks around, embarrassed, and shakes her head.“I also noticed you skip those parts in your books—the ones with anal scenes. You couldn’t even read about it without discomfort.” I grin, feeling a little self-conscious about how deeply I’ve studied her, but it’s important she knows. “And when you say ‘no’ or ‘stop’ but you don’t really mean it, your lip curls up, just a little. You try to hide it, but you fail every time. It’s a dead giveaway.”She rolls her eyes, laughing. “Okay, so you know my body better than I do.”“Exactly. And you really need to stop smirking when you’re being a brat,” I tease, winking at her.“It’s ha