Van tried to help in his own way. He took me to the thirteenth floor, letting me ride out my fury on his body, his mouth, his hands, his throat. For a while, it worked. My body was satisfied, but my soul? Starving. Aching. Howling for blood.
I didn’t want comfort. I didn’t want calm.
I wanted Alic to fall apart.
I wanted to be the reason he broke, to watch that unshakable composure collapse under the weight ofme. I wanted tears, screams, admissions of guilt and longing. I wanted to see the man who hurt medestroyed by his need to stay.
Somewhere, deep in the back of my mind, a flicker of reason tried to crawl its way to the surface. Whispers fluttered around my head, telling me that maybe this was too far. Maybe the fact that he hadn’t left, hadn’t defended himself, hadn’tonceretaliated, meant something, but I shoved that voice down into the black abyss of my heart, burying all those feelings under sheer lace, glitter, and rage.
Steadfast loyalty wasn't the currency I was dealing in. I was looking for soul-crushing devastation.
I glanced at the clock. Showtime was creeping up.
Rising from my desk, I opened my closet, my eyes landing on the white angelic teddy I had picked out last week. It was delicate, lacy, innocent… the perfect lie. I’d planned a soft, sensual performance. Teasing. Tempting. I’d make them want what theycould never have then release them to gorge themselves on each other afterward, all while thinking about me.
But now, all my softness was gone. I didn’t want to tease tonight. I wanted toown. To command. To dominate their attention and control their desire as well as their destruction. Nothing was happening without my say-so because I was Aniyah fucking Glovefox, the Syndicate Flower, and I would feed you pretty poison until you bled.
My fingers flicked through outfit after outfit until they landed onthe one, a piece that radiated shadowed seduction, sharp authority, and dark feminine vibes. It was the kind of ensemble that said,Obey me or be crushed beneath my heel.
I grabbed my phone, dialing the stage crew.
“Marty,” I said, tone razor-sharp, “scrap the setup. We’re changing the scene.”
I could almost hear his soul leave his body.
“Relax,” I added. “All I need is red and purple lighting and the rotating St. Andrew’s cross, center stage. That’s all.”
A pause, then a quiet, “Got it,” followed before I hung up.
Tonight, they were going to feel me.Allof me. Not just the glamour and sparkle. Not just the performer, but the raw, venomous, commanding storm underneath.
Tonight, they would understand that I wasn’t just a queen.
I was their reckoning.
?*Stepping onto the stage,I felt the thrum of rapid heartbeats all around me, dozens of them pulsing as one, fueled by their want. The air was thick with it. Swollen with heat, desire, and the aching kind of hunger that crawled under your skin. Every inhale dragged across the room like a moan, and I bathed in the way their need rolled off them in waves, curling around my body like smoke, desperate to pull me under.
This was the kind of fervor that fed the storm inside me… no, not a storm… a monster. One born of dark cravings and razor wings, ravenous for submission and obedience. This was what I needed. This was what made sense.
Standing before them now, with arms stretching toward me and eyes dark, dilated, dripping with lust, I knew there would be no lip syncing tonight. No crowd play, no seduction wrapped in pretty distractions. I didn’t need a build-up. I didn’t need the tease.
Tonight, I would own.
I owned this town. I owned this club. I owned every single drop of their pleasure and pain. It was mine. All of it.
Wasting no time, I let my gaze sweep across the sea of masked faces, searching for the perfect prop, the right tool, to prove a point they wouldn’t soon forget. My body responded before my brain caught up, tugged by instinct. Chaotic, hungry instinct.
To the left, I saw him. A male with eyes the color of the sky before a summer storm. His white mask had a picture of a collar on his cheek. Something about him whispered of another life.One where I wasn’t the Syndicate boss. One where I was just Aniyah.
The perfect victim for the lesson I was about to carve into them. This woman standing before you, in all her glitz and glamour, was a savage, a young gun that demanded your respect, no matter the cost.
Reaching past the magical barrier that separated me from them, I snatched his hand. Gasps rippled through the crowd as I pulled him onto the stage, and he didn’t resist. Didn’t even speak. He just stared at me like he didn’t know if he’d died or ascended.
I smiled at him, a slow curl of lips that promised both heaven and hell. My fingers wandered down his arms, tracing over warm, sculpted muscle that shifted beneath my touch. Strong, defined, but not excessive, built with purpose. My kind of strength.
“Will you come and play with me?” I purred, letting my lashes lower as I met his dazed eyes. I could see his hesitation, and I pushed harder. “I can make you feel so good tonight.” Running my hand through his silky dark locks. “I promise.”
He silently, slowly nodded, his wide eyes locked on mine like I’d snatched the breath from his lungs. When I stepped back, he followed without hesitation, a puppet under my spell.
