Page 31 of Take Me Darkly

“About Anton,” I said, opting for directness. “He hovers. It’s driving me insane, and I am not a woman who tolerates being coddled. I need you to help me learn more about him and this place so that he’ll back off.”

Myla snorted with amusement.

“Serena, he isn’t going to back off. He’s not built that way.” Pausing, she looked at me more pointedly. “He doesn’t give his loyalty or protection freely, but he’s given it to you. Speaking from experience, the best thing you can do is accept it.”

“I appreciate the protection, Myla. I truly do. But protection is one thing. Complete control is another,” I pointed out, careful to keep my tone even.

Myla studied me, her posture relaxing slightly as she weighed her response. “You’re in his territory now. Anton operates on control and ownership—it’s the foundation of everything he’s built here. It’s what keeps this entire place from descending into chaos. Control is the only dialect he knows when it comes to keeping something safe.”

“Has he briefed you on the Serpent’s Disciples?” I asked quietly.

Myla’s expression vanished instantly. She pushed out of her chair, stepped past me, and closed the office door with a heavy click. When she turned around, her face was deadly serious.

“Jesus, Serena,” she hissed under her breath. “Watch what you say. We don’t know who might be monitoring the hallways.”

I frowned. “But I thought I was safe here.”

“You are. It’s just… oh, hell.” She let out a sharp breath, her sharp demeanor softening just a fraction. “I just don’t want anything to happen to you on my watch. If it does, Anton will have me out on the streets in two seconds flat.”

“Something tells me he would never do that to you.” I swallowed hard, feeling the weight of everything pressing down on me. “But that brings me back to my point. I can’t navigate this situation blindly. I need to understand the people who have sworn to protect me—starting with Anton. Everything happened so fast. I can’t trust him like you say I should while I have so many questions about him.”

“That is a conversation you need to have with Mr. Romano.”

I noticed her switch to his formal name.

Mr. Romano. Back to business. Back to walls.

Something inside me cracked.

“Myla, please,” I said, the exhaustion finally breaking through my voice. “I am drowning here. Someone tried to kill me—they shot me—and I don’t even know why. Zeke is throwing out theories about global cartels, and I am hiding in a sex club trying to process grief, terror... and him.”

I pressed my hand to my chest, feeling my pulse hammering against my ribs.

“I know it’s overwhelming,” she said quietly.

“Do you?” I pressed, stepping closer. “I am trying to navigate my feelings for a man who terrifies me just as much as he fascinates me. I can’t do this. I can’t keep pretending I’m strong enough to handle this alone.”

The silence in the room stretched, heavy and fragile. I left myself vulnerable, laying myself bare in a way I hadn’t intended, and now I couldn’t take it back.

“You are strong enough. I told you I would help you navigate the club, but I can’t help you with Anton,” she stated, though her voice had lost some of its edge.

The rejection stung more than it should have. I angled my head, studying the fierceness in her refusal—the way she’d suddenly erected barriers where moments ago there had been understanding.

“Why?” I asked quietly. “Why are you so loyal to him, Myla?”

Myla looked at me for a long moment. She reached for a silver letter opener on her desk, her fingers tracing its dull edge. When she looked up, the shuttered corporate executive was gone, replaced by someone carrying old, heavy scars.

“It isn’t just loyalty,” she said quietly. “I owe him my life. You know what this building used to be, right?”

I nodded. “A brothel. Anton’s mother was kept here.”

“Dozens of women lived here. Including me, although I got here after Anton was gone. This place was run by a pig named Jerry Arnold.” She spat the name out like poison. “When I was only ten, my mother died of an overdose. After she died, I bounced between foster homes until I landed here. As crazy as it sounds, living here with Jerry was safer than any of those homes—and a lot safer than the streets. I was only sixteen when I first met Anton. He told me to run, but I was too terrified to listen.”

“What do you mean? Run from where?”

She took on a faraway look as if she was recalling a distant memory, then shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. Anton eventually found me again—and once again I was all bloodied up from a john who liked it rough. Sixteen. I can’t tell you how often that happened to me. By the time Anton got to me, I was already so far gone.”

My throat tightened. I couldn’t even begin to comprehend that kind of darkness Myla had endured—the kind that didn’t just take something from you, but that systematically destroyed you. My chest ached with a grief that wasn’t mine to carry, yet I felt it all the same—for this woman standing before me, and for the girl she used to be.