Page 70 of Skye
My legs are water as Howler pushes me into a chair. Immediately, I try to get back up, but his hand presses my shoulder, forcing me back into the seat.
“Stop fighting me. I don’t want to hurt you,” he says, and despite the bite in his words, his hands are gentle as he holds me in place.
It’s that which makes me stop thrashing. He doesn’t seem to want to hurt me, but it doesn’t change my desire to leave.
“Please let me go.” I hate how scared I sound.
“I can’t do that,” he says. “I promised to protect you, Skye. I promised Rage you would be safe here, and I keep my word.”
At the mention of Rage, I flinch, my doubts still building within me. I glance up at Howler, trying to see the lies in his words, but his face gives away nothing.
“I want to leave.”
He winces, and I can see the unease working through him. “I can’t let you do that either.”
My mouth pulls into a line. “So, I am a prisoner here.”
Howler scrubs a hand over his mouth. “No, you’re not. You’re family, and within these walls, that means something.”
“Skye, you don’t have to stay,” Sariah tells me, pushing around the two men flanking her. “We can leave right now. I promise I will take care of you.”
The prospects step forwards, intending to block her path, which makes Lucas grab the nearest man by the front of his leather vest. “Take another step and I’ll end you.”
“Everybody take a breath,” Howler orders.
“I’ll take a breath when my sister is safe from you,” Sariah bites out.
“I’m not the bad guy here.”
I can barely understand what they’re talking about.AllI hear is my laboured breathing loud in my ears. I block them all out, closing my eyes and trying to breathe through the looming panic, but the tightness in my chest refuses to loosen as I understand I’ve lost control of everything once again.
CHAPTER19
RAGE
Ipeer up at the building, my mouth curving down at the corners. I hate coming to this fucking place. The sign over the door is usually lit up, but the midmorning sun highlights the name anyway.Entice.Fuck, what a stupid name for a strip club.
I take a breath before we head through the door, Brewer going ahead of me. He ain’t any more happy than I am to be doing this shit, but he doesn’t complain either. There’s no point.
As we pass the small area where entrance tickets are purchased, I already smell pussy and booze. It only gets worse as we step into the main room.
There’s a stage on the far side of the room, two metal poles running vertically from floor to ceiling, and a couple of platforms used by the girls who dance here night after night.
A bar runs the full length of the back wall, stocking everything from lager to mid-range whiskeys. There are small round tables crammed into the available space in between. The walls are painted black, red upholstery adorns the chairs scattered around the room, and hanging from the ceiling is a row of lights used to illuminate whoever is shaking their arse on the stage.
I don’t have a problem with women taking their clothes off for money, but the girls who work here are desperate to hook their manicured nails into a brother. Being an old lady is better than being leered at by dirty old fucks and these women know that.
“Fuck, this place is a shit hole,” Brewer mutters.
It might be a shit hole, but it’s also a substantial portion of the cut we each get every month. These girls might be desperate to escape this lifestyle, but they sure as fuck bring in a lot of money.
“Remind me how the fuck we came to own this place.” I don’t expect an answer, but when Brewer flinches, my curiosity is piqued.
“That’s a long story.”
“So, tell it quick,” I say, grabbing his arm before he steps through the ‘staff only’ door. “Tell me.”
Brewer rubs at the back of his neck, his face pulling into an uncomfortable wince. “It’s not my story to tell, but Hope used to work here, at least until Terror pulled her out. And I’ve already said more than I should, so if you have any other questions, ask him.”