PROLOGUE
RAVEN
The calluses on my hands help me keep my grip on the shiny silver pole as I slide down to the floor of the main stage, gliding into the splits.
Euphoria is busy, just like any other night. My usuals surround the stage, eager for any amount of attention I’ll give them. Mr. Calloway waves a twenty in my direction, beckoning me closer. Knowing I have to comply, I drop down onto all fours and crawl over to him.
His bourbon breath fans my face. “I paid for us to use the Red Room later.”
My stomach rolls, but I don’t let it show on my face. “Sounds good, honey.”
“I expect some quality screams tonight, pet.” Calloway slips the twenty into my bra, right between my boobs, and winks.
The smile on my face is forced, but men like Calloway don’t know the difference.
Dipping my head down, I whip up, giving my hair that flipped look as I lean back onto my knees. I gracefully get to my feet in a twirl, successfully getting myself away from Calloway. I don’t want to spend any more time with him than I have to.
Discreetly, I check on Mya. She’s dancing on one of the two smaller stages. She always attracts a sizeable crowd. Her red hair is easy to find. As she spins around the pole, she looks at me as well. We exchange a slight head nod, something we do regularly to check in on each other, and go back to our routines.
One of the men in front of me is new. And as hard as he tries, I know he’s not paying attention to me. He glances over his shoulder again, and I follow his line of sight to the girl I met earlier, Carmen. She’s handcuffed to the pole on the other small stage. Anthony and Pierce are her only audience.
“Raven, my love,” another regular calls to me. Mr. Seymour.
In my five-inch heels, I sashay to him next. He stands, sticking his money in my thong at my hip. He motions with his index finger for me to get closer. I go along with his request. I don’t want to think about what the consequences would be if I refused.
Swirling my hips, I dip lower and lower until we’re face to face.
“Don’t let Calloway wear you out too much. I’m next.” Seymour enjoys my pain even more than Calloway. I usually have to be carried out after time with him.
I’m able to hold back the gag in my throat, but Seymour doesn’t miss how my eyes widen momentarily.
His hand whips out, grabbing my face in one hand and squeezing my cheeks. “I expect you to be a good whore for me.”
A bouncer steps forward. “Hey! No touching the dancers!”
Seymour releases his grip, wearing an easy smile. “We’re good.” He fixes the sleeves of his suit and looks at me out of the corner of his eye. “I paid for this one.”
Pop! Pop! Pop!
I drop to my stomach on the stage as screams echo off the high ceilings. My hands shake as I push my hair out of my face.
The customers shout in alarm, running for the exits. Pierce has a gun to Carmen’s temple as the man who was seated in front of me and two others close in on him. Anthony stalks backward toward the stairs leading to his office, firing off more bullets from his handgun as he goes.
Glimpsing Mya’s stage, I find it empty. I scan the room for her. As I spot one of the bouncers ushering her into the dressing room, she finds me at the same time. Her eyes widen but are no longer fixed on me. Twisting, I find the cause of her alarm as I’m yanked off the stage.
“You’re coming with me.” Seymour holds my upper arm and stares into my face with crazed eyes.
“No! Let go of me!” The pounding in my chest pushes me to fight. Survival takes over the closer we get to the side emergency exit. I shove his shoulder and yell for help repeatedly, but it’s to no avail. If he gets me in his car, I won’t be able to get away. He’ll get me to his home where he’ll chain me to his bed until he kills me.
Not happening.
I use my nails to claw the side of his face, leaving five red streaks. He flinches, and I aim for his neck. More broken skin.
Seymour turns to me, fuming. “Stop fighting me! Whores don’t get a say in where they go! They?—”
Cutting him off, I use my heel to bash him in the side of the head. I hit him again and again until he falls to the ground.
“What do you think you’re doing?” The bouncer from earlier wraps his arms around my stomach, lifting me and carrying me to the dressing room.
