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As I stalk through the halls and am deposited onto the overwhelming dance floor, I make myself a promise. I’m going to annihilate Bruno and his club. I’ll start by getting the women who helped me out.

Keeping my head down, I avoid the drunken men and flirty servers. It’s easy to find the stairs and the basement door. It’s in the far back, behind a single curtain. I make sure no one is paying attention and inhale.

A slight pause, but that’s it. I enter through the back hole, with one goal in mind: Find Valentina and get her the fuck out of here. Whether she wants to go or not.

20

BRIAR

The ringing in my ears dies away as the heavy, iron door shuts behind me.

Thank fuck.

There are only a few steps of lacquered walls before a drop into a hole with wrought-iron stairs. A halo of red pulsates at the bottom with sadistic need.

It’s very Day of the Dead vibes.

Valentina is down here.

I don’t have time to second-guess—I hurry down, bare feet tripping. The cold tile jolts my senses, and prickles of pain shoot up from the soles. At the bottom, a crimson haze highlights the empty hall.

Sweat breaks out over my back. I’ve heard stories of the red rooms in Bruno’s basement. The horrors, the pain. Anyone who goes into them never sees sunlight again.

And my sunshine is being strangled in the dark.

Hunting through the halls, I notice the area doesn’t have cameras. Makes sense. No one wants to be caught doing whatever the fuck is happening down here.

On my right is a black door with a plaque. Small lights edge the frame, a piece of hope in the sea of red. Found it.

Sliding the key into the side lock, it pops ajar, and I step through. Inside, my eyes adjust to the brightness. Outside is dark, seedy, and downright uncomfortable. This place is full of quiet calm that the performers need to decompress.

A few people are floating around the massive space. At the far wall are a set of cabinets and a fridge. In the center are couches, with a few people lying on top. They’re still in their costumes and masks. My gaze lands on the bunny across the way; large ears poke up from his head, with a white screen covering his eyes.

It would scare the crap out of me in the alley out back.

Dropping beside him, I hold out the card. “Tommaso?”

He tilts his creepy head, and I assume he’s looking at me.

“Who wants to know?”

“Woman upstairs said to give you her card. Said you’d give it back.” There’s a beat of silence as he takes me in. I won’t lie—I do the same.

He’s thin, with a well-defined physique. A dusting of hair on his lower six-pack pulls my gaze, but his arrogance is off-putting. I only like one sassy partner, and it’s not him.

“Which woman?”

“Don’t have a name.” I gesture to my head. “Purple hair. Upstairs. Branded.”

Tommaso nods sagely. “Ah, okay. I have a performance with her later. I’ll give it to her then.”

Reclining on the couch, he slides the card down his leather pants. Glancing at the door, I mentally calculate how big the basement is. There are various halls and many doors.

“Who’s your partner?” he asks me, interrupting my silent struggle.

“I’m not sure. Yours?”

He smirks smugly. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”