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I had to focus for a moment to recognize it.

Wonder by Kaygo Gotti.

A song that had just dropped before I left the human world. And now, hearing it here, in a place ruled by shadows and silence, it was almost too much. Sensory overload. The visceral lyrics tangled with the soothing undertrack, crawling across my skin like static.

We moved cautiously toward the source of the sound. Even from down the street, the house pulsed with light. Bright. Alive. People, if you could call them that, flowed in and out of the building like blood through a vein. Carriages lined the curb, horses still hitched to their halters, snorting in the cold.

There was no doubt. We’d found the hive.

Arianna took one look and vanished before I could blink, quicker than someone ducking a court summons. No goodbye. No hesitation. Just gone. That left the three of us, me, Kleitos, and Bomani, posted at the far end of the street, cloaked in shadow, watching. Counting how many Elguto passed through the doors. How many faces did we recognize? How many wore the mark of rebellion?

And all I could think was that same lyric on loop in my mind…

And I wonder…

TAINTED| CHAPTER 37

Intermission

Alexander’s POV

The three of us moved as one through the snow, me in the middle, Kleitos and Bomani flanking my sides. We slid our hoods back in unison, letting the first flakes melt against our skin. The music hit like a pulse, shaking loose the snow from sagging branches and rattling the air until my eardrums tingled. The stench was a layered assault. Piss from unkempt horses soured the air, while the sweet rot clinging to the bodies out front made my nose scrunch in disgust. Women lounged in scraps of old-world skirts that barely covered their hips, breasts bare in the cold as though it didn’t touch them. Others wore shredded shirts that counted more as suggestions than clothing, grinding on men in folding chairs under a makeshift metal awning.

Some leaned in close for lap dances; others drifted toward the haze of drugs, lips parting as pink smoke curled into the night like ribbons. Pills passed from palm to palm. Laughter cracked the air, too high-pitched, too sharp.

Closing in on the house, more people arrived behind us; the shuffle of their boots let us blend with the crowd. Still, certain eyes lingered. Heads tilted as scents caught on the wind, nostrils flaring when Kleitos and Bomani passed. The way they gazed wasn’t curiosity. It was recognition.

Some eyes drifted my way, but my scent blended with the others, and they paid me no mind. In a single file, we stepped inside the run-down home. The busted windows, the tea lights strung along the trim, and the blaring speakers made it look alive from the outside. Inside, it was exactly as expected. Dirty. Crowded. Loud. The reverb of the music vibrated through my skeleton as we crossed the threshold. Layered bass shook the speakers strapped to the far wall, each thump rattling the room. When the door shut behind us, it locked the heat in, the muggy air crawling over my skin until the space felt almost swamp-like.

Bodies ground against each other to another modern song, women twerking on each other as well as the men. The crowd was a strange blend: some in the standard attire of Eari, cotton dresses, tunics, and slacks. While others wore jeans, graphic tees, and crop tops. I skimmed over all of them without losing focus on the one face I was searching for.

Weaving through the mass of people, we looked for an open pocket. Every corner had its own scene of questionable indulgence. The first was a knot of women bent over, ankles gripped in each hand, thighs spread, their partners grinding slow and deliberate behind them. The next was two women tucked in a corner, passing one of those thick, pink-smoked blunts between them, their laughter cutting through the music like a private joke.

At the far end of the room, I caught a glimpse of long raven hair and skin dark as midnight swaying in the low, dim light. Her eyes were closed, hips rolling to the rhythm, until pale hands gripped her from behind. They pulled her into a straddle and out of my line of sight.

Lifting a hand, Bomani and Kleitos halted mid-step. Meeting their eyes for a beat, I tilted my chin toward the spot where I’d seen her. Risky? Yes. She’d know we were here. But if she could help… then I hope it would be worth it.

I didn’t know if her loyalty still belonged to this coven, but I wasn’t about to let these Elguto overhear my intentions. My lips curved into an easy smile. “Gentlemen, go enjoy yourselves. I’ll be along shortly.” The plan formed as I spoke: approach with grace, maybe a touch of flattery, alone. If I came with both men at my side, her guard would go up instantly. Whoever was wrapped around her hips would simply have to wait.

They didn’t like it. Concern flickered in their eyes, but they gave reluctant nods before peeling off in opposite directions, claiming their own corners of the room.

Smoothing my cloak, my smile sharpened into something more deliberate. Time to play my part. My body moved with the beat, sliding through the press of heat and sweat. The crowd parted enough for me to spot her again. She was now posted on a makeshift stage, elevated above the crush of bodies. The floor below was chaos, but the stage had space enough for her to stand out.

With each step I took toward the podium, I knew this could veer far from how I wanted it to. She could alert someone. But why would she? At the club, she hadn’t suspected a thing. She seemed willing, even comfortable speaking with me. Maybe that was her job, to put people at ease. Maybe it was her only task. But the thought she had no choice in the matter. It crawled into the back of my mind.

Looking around, the more I suspected she was forced. Most of the women here were being used for their bodies. If they weren't pinned in a corner beneath someone's wandering hands, they were offering lap dances, inviting hands. Bare breasts pressed into strangers’ faces. Others were on their knees, servicing men without shame or privacy. Keeping my eyes locked on her, she was standing again now, her skirt flipped as she bent low, hips grinding in the air to the music. Those same pale hands from before slapped her rear, gripping it possessively.

When I reached the stage, I hopped onto it in one easy motion. The men seated near it glanced up at me, and I returned their stares without blinking. On stage, three men sat like kings, two women draped over each of them. The raven-haired woman had her back to me, straddling her companion.

Then she turned.

Her eyes met mine, and in that instant, I saw who she was dancing for.

William.

The blonde man from the forest. The one Arianna had named. His gaze locked with mine across the low light, his smirk faint but deliberate. She froze mid-movement, caught between us, her body still in his lap but her eyes darting, calculating. And for a breath, the noise and heat of the room fell away. The three of us were locked in a silence loud enough to burn.

William leaned forward, his arm snaking around her waist, dragging her flush against him. A small smirk curled across his lips as his free hand flicked toward one of the men beside him. The signal was all it took. The music cut off mid-beat, slicing through the rhythm of the room. In the sudden hush, the low moans and muffled gasps in the room bled into sharp focus.