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The creamy leather is cool under my fingertips. The floor is lit by lights along the entire interior. Champagne in a gold bucket of ice.Glasses with gold rims next to them.
Branson presses a button and a divider between us and the driver goes up. He lights a joint up. It hangs on his bottom lip as he rests his head back into the seat, worry lines on his forehead.
Does he know how beautiful he is? He must. He must know women would start World War Three over him. He sighs, looking over to me and snatching the joint out of his mouth.
My breath catches when he reaches over to push a strand of hair behind my ear. The way he looks at me is borderline lethal. Like he’d end anyone for looking at me wrong. And that… no one has ever looked at me like that. Like I’m the only thing they breathe for.
“Darling, there are things you will see, things that are… wrong, inhumane, sinister, but you can’t stop them.”
I swallow at his words. My heart beating out of my chest. There’s a warning in his eyes as he goes on.
“You can never tell anyone who or what you’ve seen. If you do, depending on how much you value them, three things could happen. One, you die. Two, they sell you. Three, they torture you.”
So, I’ll die because I’m no one. Awesome.I know making jokes even in my head is wrong during serious times but it’s how I deal.
“Do you understand?” I nod slowly.He releases a breath. “Good.”
“I understand I do not wish to go anymore. Let me out.”
I begin panicking. My heart races as I stare at him.
He gives a tight smile. “It’s too late for that.”
The car comes to a halt. Branson smashes his joint in the ashtray. The door swings open and there’s nothing but black. Slowly, lights flicker on down the tunnel's walls. Branson climbs out, extending a hand to me.On shaky legs, I climb out, putting my hand in his. The door slams behind me and I jump.
“Rayne, you’re going to be fine. Nothing will happen to you when you’re with me.” I look to his dark depths as they drill into my eyes. Becoming darker as he talks. “I made you a promise. And I keep my promises.”
I nod, clutching his arm tighter. He stops. I turn, letting go to look at him. Both this hands tangle in the back of my hair as his lips crash to mine. My back hits the stone wall as my lips move against his. The kiss is possessive. Demanding. So, I give him my submission. My arms wrapping around his neck as I pull him flushed against me. Showing him I’m just as possessive of him. His tongue circles mine and he pulls back. His head lays on mine as we both pant. “Say you believe me. That you believe I’d never let anything happen to you.”
Nodding, I say, “I believe you, Branson.” He closes his eyes at my use of his name.
“Okay,” he breathes. “Let’s go.”
* * *
It was always a red door, wasn’t it? The door you shouldn’t go to open. The ones countless books and movies warned you about. The color alone is sinister. A shade so deep it looks like fresh blood, blood oxygen had barely whispered across.
Branson knocks, a fast sequence of beats I don’t have a chance to pick up on. The door swings open, a white mask appearing to be floating in the black air.
“Password.” Not a question but a demand. Whispered in a skin-prickling tone that sends my body shivering. Branson answers him, an ancient language slipping between his lips. It’s smooth and harsh, a language I can’t decipher because his words are spoken so fast. As if he doesn’t want me to pick up on it.
The mask disappears and my hand tightens around Branson’s bicep. He walks, dragging me along as we enter deep darkness until a sound hits my ears. As if one is pulling a crane. Light sweeps our feet as it slowly rises up our bodies. Branson pulls me forward as we enter another hallway. This one is covered in red wallpaper and black tile floor. A loud slamming has me looking over my shoulder to see a vault door. What the fuck?We turn and enter a giant open room. Black carpet with gold flecks sinks under my feet as I take in all the bodies moving around me. Some are draped with men and women sprawled over their laps. Others sipping drinks as they watch. Hallways branch off in every direction I look. A gleam has me looking upas I take in the cages hanging from the ceiling. That’s not what has my stomach souring. Cages were nothing new in clubs, I’d seen plenty, but one has me pushing down bile. The girl wears a ripped white t-shirt, bruises covering her arms and legs. A spiked collar around her neck. Her eyes are dead and smeared in black mascara as she stares down at me. There is no cry for help, just acceptance.
“Rayne, Darling, look at me.” Branson's voice brings me to him. I do, my bottom lip trembling.
“Remember what I said in the car?” I nod, words lost to me.He bites his lip, pulling me down the hallway to the left.
When we enter, it breaks off into another room. This one is brighter, filled with people. I see my housemates scattered in the sea of people. Emerald looks as if she wants to crawl out of her skin as she grips Tucker closer to her.
You hear rumors but you never truly believe them. How there is a secret society only the rich can untame. As I stare at politicians, public influencers, actors, and famous athletes, I understand it’s naïve to underestimate anything in this world. This room is crowded with these people.
I tap Branson when I see a group of teenagers I don’t know.“Who are they?” I whisper.
Branson glances at the way my head is inclined and smirks.“BurBay fucking Elite.”
My nose scrunches up at the name, because I recognize it. “As in the BurBay Banks?”
He laughs, “Sure, they have that too, but they’re a branch of The Children of Nobility. Where we’re in the limelight as classy—” I snort. He grins, “Fine, not classy, but compared to those animals we are.”
