It couldn't be, but the likeness was too great to ignore.
Wouter Jameson looked up from the glass of whiskey half-raised to his lips, his eyes following a slim figure moving through the city street. She was absorbed in the screen of her phone—a telltale sign of someone unfamiliar with the area.
"Wouter, come kiss me… I'll make you feel good tonight, I promise."*
Jade's voice whispered in his ears, but Wouter was too distracted by what he had seen.
Quickly, before the figure disappeared from view, he sprang to his feet, tossing a wad of paper money on the table—far more than he'd consumed, but enough to cover it and leave a little extra.
Ignoring the protests of his colleagues, Wouter hurried outside, keeping his eyes locked on the girl. Her slender form, the delicate curve of her wrist, the inky black hair, and the soft, strawberry-shaped face.
It was Celeste Everhart—the same girl he'd seen at Gecko. Out here, at this hour of the morning, someone like her stood out like a rose among plastic flowers.
She turned into a small alleyway, a place where people went to hide from the few who knew where to find them. Wouter couldn't imagine why someone like her would venture into such a location. Was she meeting a secret lover? His mind raced with possibilities when he saw three men take notice of her.
They exchanged glances—a look Wouter knew far too well, one he himself had used many times before. His heart caught in his chest when they began to move, trailing behind her. At a distance, just enough to keep it from being obvious, but to anyone paying attention, they were failing miserably.
Wouter fumbled for his phone, dialing a number. The call connected, but the recipient didn't answer. He clicked his tongue. He could always count on Avond not answering when it mattered most. The man had been fixated on this girl the moment she walked into the club, and ever since, he hadn't been himself. But more importantly, what would Tiel do if he found out about this?
Wouter shivered. It would be better if Celeste was never found at all. If Tiel ever caught wind of this, things could spiral quickly. That man's ego couldn't handle even the smallest slight—much less a girl choosing another man over him.
He broke into a half-sprint, hands buried in his pockets. To the casual observer, he looked like someone hurrying to catch the bus, trying to escape the early morning chill. But his steps followed the eager pace of the three men, who were closely tailing Celeste as she walked into Dovey's Love Cabin.
Wouter's frown deepened as he surveyed the place. The sharks ran this city, and he knew its streets and alleys like the back of his hand. But it seemed some people were trying to fly under the radar, opening shop where no one could meddle. After a beat, he followed them inside.
The man behind the reception desk, who Wouter expected would ask questions, was instead slumped in a deep nap, his body almost crumpled over. Wouter shook his head and pushed forward, following the three men up a narrow, winding staircase that led to a long corridor. Old doors lined the walls, each one showing signs of wear, the sound of muffled pleasure echoing from behind them.
He stopped in front of Room 5. The door was slightly ajar, and what he saw inside sent a chill racing down his spine, making the hairs on his arm stand on end.
His heart slowed, the sounds around him fading into sharp clarity. The faint click of metal was the only thing he could hear before he raised his weapon.
The men inside were blurred figures, but his aim was steady as he pulled the trigger and fired several rounds.
Screams filled the air. Women and men stumbled from their rooms, some running, others frozen in shock.
Two of the men, both clutching their arms, bolted in his direction, but Wouter raised his gun again, finishing the last of the rounds in his barrel. He couldn't risk them running—Avond would surely want him to track every single one of them down. The third man lay groaning on the floor, clutching his side, howling in pain.
"Hey! Who the hell are you? I'm calling the police!" the receptionist yelled, his voice cracking as he pressed his back against the wall, peeking through the door. His eyes went wide when he saw the gun in Wouter's hand.
"I—I'm calling the police!"
"Oh, really?" Wouter's voice was low and unimpressed. "You planning to rat yourself out? Got a license to run this operation, do you?"
The receptionist's chest heaved in panic, his face turning pale.
"Who are you!?" the man demanded. "How do you know I don't have a license?"
"I'm a part of the sharks," Wouter said, locking eyes with him. "And you, sir… are in deep trouble."
The receptionist hesitated for a second, then turned and bolted, running for the door. But Wouter wasn't concerned with him. He reloaded his firearm, stepping over the unconscious bodies of the men as he moved past. He felt a twinge of pity. They were young, foolish, and now, paying the price for their cruelty.
Wouter sighed, looking down at Celeste. One side of her face was turning a dark shade of blue, and his heart sank. What had she been doing here? Had she run away?
As he gently dressed her, a wave of guilt washed over him. If she had fled, he couldn't blame her. She was just a sweet, young girl—who couldn't even speak—and was about to marry Tiel, the man who ruled the city with an iron fist. A man who was volatile, aggressive, and brutal—quick to resort to violence at the slightest provocation.
There had been a time when even their own men had been frightened of Tiel, wary of his unpredictability and capacity for cruelty. But how much Celeste knew of that world, Wouter didn't know. All he knew was that she had made the right choice to run when she had the chance.
His heart ached as he glanced down at her fragile form. After years of wandering these streets, doing the work he did, he was surprised he could still feel such emotions.
By the time Wouter reached his car, he had tried calling Avond three times, but whatever was keeping him occupied was clearly something he couldn't ignore. Still, keeping the girl in his car wasn't an option either. The last thing he needed was a terrified girl screaming for her life while he tried to explain that he hadn't done anything. Assuming, of course, she was more hurt than he'd initially thought. And he would hate to be the one to witness that breakdown.
In frustration, he started the car, his mind racing. The basement seemed like the best place to keep her—somewhere secure, where he could hold her until Avond returned. There was a bed down there, and though it was typically used for holding enemies or traitors, it would do for now. At least until he had a better plan.
Wouter sighed, then hit the dial button on his phone.
"Wouter! I can't believe you just left me there! What kind of man are you?" Jade's voice erupted from the speaker, scolding him without missing a beat.
"The kind who'd save a girl from… erm… getting traumatized," he replied, his tone flat.
"What? What happened?" Jade asked, her concern clear.
"I'll tell you when I see you. But can you please head to the basement? I need someone to take care of her when she wakes up." Wouter merged onto the highway, the towering skyscrapers rising on either side as he picked up speed.
"You're with her? Hold on, I'm on my way. Wait, do you know her?"
"Yeah. It's Tiel's fiancée."
"Oh no."
"I know."