Luna POVThe heavy door swings open again, and a young woman walks in. My eyes widen in recognition. She’s striking, with features that are both delicate and fierce at the same time. She moves with a confidence that makes it hard to look away. As she steps closer, I recognize her face—not from here, but from the news, from headlines. “Luna, right?” she says, her voice smooth and self-assured, a small smile tugging at her lips. “I’m Candy. You might have seen me in the papers.” I nod, still trying to process what the hell is happening. Why is she here? After everything she’s been through, after everything I’ve read about her, why would someone like Candy choose to stay in a place like this? I try to speak, but the tape over my mouth silences me. My frustration boils over, and I roll my eyes, letting out a muffled groan. Candy watches me with an amused expression, gracefully lowering herself into a seat in front of me. She crosses her legs, completely at ease in this nightmare of a r
Luna POVI feel conflicted, like I’m stuck between two versions of Dante—the one I hate and the one they’re trying to show me. But how can I reconcile those things? I don’t know what to believe anymore. Lost in a maelstrom of conflicting emotions, I struggle to break free from the belief I’ve clung to for so long—that Dante was somehow just like the man responsible for my mother’s death. The thought has been my anchor, my way of surviving in a world that often felt too dark to understand. But now, faced with the man he is in front of me, clean and composed, it’s as though everything I thought I knew is unraveling. How do I reconcile this image of Dante—the protector, the savior of women—with the man I’ve spent years hating? Can I even begin to trust him? My gaze flickers around the room, desperate to escape the weight of my thoughts. It lands on a couple, their bodies entangled in raw, intimate acts, and I feel a mix of disgust and—God help me—curiosity. The realization that I’m si
Luna POV Without a word, Dante unties the ropes that bind me, his movements deliberate and rough. Before I can react, he hoists me over his shoulder like I’m nothing, carrying me effortlessly across the room. My body bounces with every step he takes, and I try to struggle, but he tightens his grip, his strength undeniable. Panic bubbles in my chest as I realize he’s taking me somewhere else—somewhere private, somewhere where there are no eyes to watch, to stop whatever he’s planning. My heart races, but I refuse to give him the satisfaction of seeing my fear. As we leave the room and enter the hallway, I hear the sounds of pleasure behind us fading into the distance, replaced by the echo of our footsteps and the pounding of my heart. Whatever happens next, I know one thing for sure: this isn’t over. Not by a long shot. “You bastard!” I scream, pounding my fists into Dante’s back as he drags me into the elevator, my body writhing in a futile attempt to break free. His grip on me is
Dante’s POV I never intended to kidnap her. But here we are, and everything’s gone to shit. I’ve been so consumed by Luna, by my need to have her, that I didn’t see the bigger picture. I made a colossal mistake, and now it’s catching up with me. Justin was right there, in her apartment. All I had to do was handle the situation, put my fucking cock away, and think. But I didn’t. I couldn’t. I wanted him to know she was mine—to shove it in his face. And that was beyond fucked up. Before, I wouldn't have, but these past few days, his silence, his possible connections to everything, made me hate him. The message I sent to Callum was no better. My head was wrapped up in Luna, in fucking her, in marking my territory, and I wasn’t thinking straight. The message was a jumbled mess, completely useless, so no one checked to see if Justin was hanging around her place. And now, I’m left picking up the pieces, wondering how the hell I missed everything that’s been going on. I’ve got someone t
Dante POVHe’s got a point, but I know better. “That didn’t upset her. What pissed her off was that I didn’t let her orgasm.” Callum rolls his eyes, laughing. “Of course. Typical.” “I should go check on her, make sure she hasn’t trashed the room,” I say, standing up. I make my way out of the office, up to the apartment.I walk through the room. Unlocking the door, I step into the dimly lit room where Luna’s supposed to be sleeping. As soon as I do, she screams, and before I can react, a lamp swings toward my head. I duck just in time, grabbing her around the waist and tackling her to the floor. She thrashes, but I hold her steady. “Doing a battle cry before swinging was your downfall,” I laugh, snatching the lamp out of her hand. “I want a fucking shower, you dick!” she yells, her eyes blazing with fury. I can’t help but lick my lips, leaning down to bite gently at her ear. “I’m not a dick, tiny demon, but I can give you one if you ask nicely.” I let my tongue trail down her nec
Dante POVHer pace quickens, her body now slamming into mine with a new urgency. Her breath comes in shallow, hurried gasps as she kisses me with fierce intensity, her tongue pushing into my mouth, desperate, hungry. I meet her halfway, kissing her back with everything I have, my hands moving to grasp her hips, helping her move faster, harder. I keep my eyes locked on her face, watching every flicker of emotion cross her features, every twitch of pleasure that ripples through her body. I have to fight back speaking, all I want to do is whisper dirty things to her, but I feel that might push her back into the space where she closes her eyes. Her chest rises and falls rapidly, and I can feel her pulse quickening, matching the frantic rhythm of our bodies. It’s intoxicating—being this close, feeling her this way. She’s not just fucking me. She’s claiming me, too. I groan again, deeper this time, as the pleasure builds inside me. Her body clenches around me, and I know she’s close, teet
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
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