Chapter 2

The sound of fabric tearing filled the room as Rex's hands moved with brutal efficiency across my body. I flinched, but forced myself to remain passive—a terrified newcomer overwhelmed by the VP's attention.

"Did you think this was a dance audition?" Rex's voice was a low growl against my ear as he shredded my top, the glittering fabric falling in sparkling strips to the floor. "In this club, you're nothing but meat."

His hands were everywhere, claiming every inch of me as if I were property he'd already purchased. I bit my lip until I tasted blood, fighting the instinct to resist. This was the plan—become his possession, earn his trust, then destroy him from the inside.

"Please," I whispered, injecting just enough fear into my voice to sound authentic. "I don't understand."

Rex's laugh was cold as he backed me against the wall, his body pinning mine. "Understanding isn't required. Compliance is."

His mouth found mine in a kiss that tasted of whiskey and dominance. I let my body go limp, playing the part of the overwhelmed girl who didn't know how to fight back. Inside, every muscle was coiled tight, every nerve screaming with the effort of maintaining my facade.

"You'll learn," he murmured against my skin as his hands continued their exploration. "And the first lesson is that you belong to me now."

When he finally released me, I slid to the floor, curling into myself as if in shock. The torn remnants of my clothes hung from my body like tattered flags of surrender.

"Clean yourself up," Rex ordered, tossing a t-shirt at me. "You have an initiation to complete."

---

The main hall of the clubhouse had been transformed into a circus of humiliation. Chairs formed a circle in the center, with club members lining the edges like hungry wolves waiting for prey.

"Stand here," Rex positioned me in the middle, his hand firm on my shoulder. "And remember—this is an honor. Many women would kill to be under my protection."

I spotted Wolf leaning against the bar, his eyes gleaming with sadistic anticipation. Rex's younger brother was leaner than his brother, with a jagged scar running down one cheek that pulled his smile into a permanent sneer.

"Gentlemen," Rex announced, his voice carrying over the music. "Tonight we welcome a new addition to the club. Scarlett will be serving as my personal entertainment."

Wolf pushed off from the bar, sauntering toward us with a bottle of tequila in hand. "Brother's whore is everyone's whore," he announced to laughter from the gathered members. "Club tradition, right?"

Rex's jaw tightened, but he nodded. "Tradition is tradition."

What followed was an hour of calculated degradation. Each member approached in turn, some touching me with casual entitlement, others with overt cruelty. I stood motionless, eyes downcast, playing my role perfectly.

"Look at me when I'm touching you," one biker growled, forcing my chin up. "Rex likes his toys to be responsive."

Another pinched my waist hard enough to bruise. "A little too skinny for my taste, but Rex always did like 'em fragile."

Through it all, Rex watched impassively, his expression revealing nothing of what he might be thinking.

"Time for drinks," Wolf announced, thrusting the tequila bottle into my hands. "Serve the brothers. And lose the shirt."

I hesitated for just a moment—long enough to seem reluctant but not defiant.

"Problem?" Wolf stepped closer, his breath hot against my face. "Rex said you'd be compliant."

Slowly, I removed the t-shirt Rex had given me, standing topless as Wolf handed me a tray of shot glasses.

"Circulate," he ordered. "And if you spill a drop, we'll make it a game to see how many brothers you can please before passing out."

The room erupted in laughter as I moved through the crowd, offering drinks with trembling hands. Each man took his time selecting a glass, using the moment to touch me however they pleased.

"Pretty little thing," one member murmured, his fingers trailing across my collarbone. "Rex always gets the best toys."

I forced a smile, hating how my face burned with humiliation. "Thank you, sir."

Hours passed in a blur of degradation and forced servitude. By the time Rex finally called an end to the initiation, my feet were bleeding from the heels, and my skin felt raw from countless hands.

---

"Rex drinks every night," I whispered to myself, watching from the shadows of his bedroom as he poured another glass of whiskey. "Always the same amount. Always until he passes out."

It had been two weeks since my "initiation." Two weeks of playing the perfect submissive while gathering every scrap of information I could about the club's operations.

Rex kept a lockbox in his desk drawer. I'd seen him open it once when he thought I was asleep—the key hidden in a hollowed-out book on his shelf.

Tonight was my chance.

I waited until Rex had drained his seventh glass—the point where his movements began to slow and his words slurred slightly.

"Another drink?" I offered, my voice soft and subservient.

He looked at me through half-closed eyes. "You're a good girl, Scarlett. Know your place."

I smiled, refilling his glass. "I just want to make you happy."

Three more drinks, and he was unconscious on the bed. I counted to one hundred, ensuring he was truly out before moving to his desk.

The lockbox was exactly where I'd seen it. With trembling fingers, I retrieved the key from its hiding place and opened it.

Inside were documents—financial records, drug shipment schedules, names of corrupt cops on their payroll. And most importantly, a folder labeled simply "Elena."

I pulled out my phone and began photographing everything, my heart pounding so loudly I feared it might wake him.

"Elena," I whispered, opening the folder. "Who are you?"

The answer might be the key to understanding Rex—and finding the evidence I needed to destroy him.

As I carefully replaced everything and slipped back into bed beside the man who'd killed my father, I wondered what other secrets this club was hiding—and how many more nights I'd have to endure before I could finally make Rex pay for what he'd done.