3. Braken

The music's thumping bass fills the room, vibrating against the walls and floor. The occasional moans and cries of pleasure are audible over the steady beat, adding to the tantalizing atmosphere.

And then I see her.

Fiora Delaney. Or at least that is the name she is using now.

There is no mistaking who this woman really is and how I know her.

Nose and several ear piercings, black hair with a bleached white stripe, and wearing all black, she moves with a feline grace across the dimly lit club, her every step radiating an aura of confidence and allure. The shimmering dark fabric of her dress clings to her curves, accentuating the sway of her hips as she approaches the bar. Her striking features, framed by thick, raven locks, draws the gaze of every soul in the room.

I watch, transfixed, as she leans against the polished counter, ordering a drink with a coy smile that could disarm even the most hardened of men. The bartender, clearly smitten, fumbles with the bottles, his cheeks flushed with desire.

Why the fuck is she here alone?

She shouldn't be alone!

Fiora moves her head side to side, scanning the crowd, eventually locking onto someone I can't quite make out. She waves the person over, and I eventually see that it's her friend, Storee—my best friend's girlfriend.

Okay… so at least she isn't alone. Thank fucking god. The Vault is no place for a woman like her to attend by herself.

Fiora's lips curl into a devilish grin as Storee approaches, her movements exuding an air of mischief. The two women embrace, their laughter mingling with the music's pulsating rhythm. Storee leans in, whispering in Fiora's ear and eliciting a playful smirk from her friend.

The women truly have a friendship which is a shame… considering what I now know about who Fiora truly is.

Drinks in hand, they make their way through the throng of bodies on the dance floor, hips swaying in sync with the beat. The crowd parts before them, as if the clubbers know the importance of these women and how they are connected to the owners of The Vault.

Fiora and Storee move toward the heart of the dance floor, their bodies swaying sensuously to the hypnotic rhythm. The pulsating lights cast flickering shadows across their faces, accentuating the alluring curves of their figures. As they dance, their movements become more fluid, more intimate, a tantalizing display of feminine power and grace.

Locke approaches our usual owners' booth we always sit at, whiskey in hand. I was the first to arrive, Merrick and Soren not at the club yet.

Locke sidles up beside me, his gaze fixed on the two women. "I swear, Storee's going to be the death of me," he murmurs, taking a sip of his whiskey. "I questioned letting her come tonight."

Locke's gaze is transfixed on the two women, his knuckles white from gripping his glass. Tension radiates from him, a primal hunger simmering beneath the surface. It's no secret that he harbors a fierce desire for Storee, one that borders on obsession.

The air is thick, a heady brew of lust, possessiveness, and the ever-present undercurrent of danger that permeates our lives. Fiora and Storee are oblivious to the storm growing around them, lost in their own intoxicating world of forbidden desires.

"I want to wait until Merrick and Soren get here," I start, "but we have a problem on our hands."

Locke doesn't take his gaze off his girlfriend, but he's paying attention to my words at least. "Problem? With what? The Vault?"

"No. I have information."

Across the room, Merrick and Soren slip through the array of revelers, their eyes instantly drawn to the display of people either fucking or coming damn close to fucking all around them. The night is getting off to an early, lust-filled start, and it will end with another hunt.

"Looks like the night's already off to an interesting start," Soren murmurs as he slides into the booth next to me, his voice a low rumble that barely carries over the pounding bass.

Merrick offers a wolfish grin in response, his eyes never leaving Fiora and Storee's undulating forms. "You let your woman come out and play?" he asks Locke, who doesn't seem the least bit amused.

I lean back, taking a sip of my drink as Merrick and Soren settle in and order their drinks.

"Gentlemen, we have a situation," I begin, my voice low and measured. "Storee's friend Fiora. She shouldn't be here, not with the information I know about her."

Soren's brow furrows, his gaze shifting from the dance floor to me. "What information?"

The music seems to swell, the bass vibrating through our bodies as I lean forward, my expression grave. "She's a Godwin."

Locke's stare shifts from Storee to me. "Explain. What do you mean she's a Godwin. Her name is Fiora Delaney?"

"Fake name. And why she is hiding the fact that she is Hector Godwin's daughter, I'm not sure." I continue to watch her dance like she doesn't have a care in the world. "But the Godwins are looking for her. She disappeared one night, and though the Godwins are keeping it on the down low, Hector currently has a missing daughter."

Beneath the surface of her captivating dance, a dark undercurrent lurks, a truth that threatens to shatter the illusion of carefree abandon she radiates.

Heathens Hollow is a place where secrets run deep, and the line between reality and nightmare is often blurred beyond recognition. Fiora wouldn't be the first person to hide away on this island, running from her demons. She most certainly isn't the first ghost to walk our shores, a person determined to simply disappear in the fog of our banks.

"She's a goth girl with a septum piercing," Soren says. "No way is that a Godwin. They are all snooty rich fucks."

"I agree. No way is she a Godwin. The Godwins know everything, and they most certainly would know if one of their own was living in some crappy cottage. Why would she choose Heathens Hollow to hide? The island is owned by the Godwins. Why?" Locke returns his gaze to the dance floor.

I lean back, taking a sip of my drink as I gather my thoughts. "Hiding in plain sight."

"She does catering for the Godwins. They'd recognize her," Soren points out.

I shake my head. "There are two branches of the mighty Godwin tree. One has the patriarch as Troy Godwin, and the other branch—the Poseidon branch—is Hector Godwin. Those brothers haven't spoken or interacted in decades. Fiora would be cousins with Apollo, Athena, and Phoenix, but they wouldn't know each other. Fiora would be a stranger to them."

"Hiding in plain sight," Soren parrots. "If she is on the run, the people looking for her would never think to come here. Smart."

"She didn't even change her first name. Bold," Locke adds.

Merrick's eyes narrow, his jaw clenched. "Or stupid. Are you certain it's her? How would you even know what she looks like?" Merrick turns to Soren. "You used to work for the Godwins. Do you recognize her?"

Soren shakes his head. "I never met Hector's children."

"You all know I don't forget a face, and I know the Godwins. All of the Godwins," I answer. "I cross-referenced her identity with multiple sources when I had my suspicions when she first came to The Vault with Storee. Then I hunted her last night so I could get a better look. And well… no doubt about it. That woman on the dance floor is Fiora Godwin."

The tension hangs thick in the air as the realization of Fiora's true identity sinks in. I watch Locke's expression darken, his eyes burning with a mixture of anger and concern for Storee's safety.

"Fuck! We need to get Storee away from her, now," Locke growls, his hands clenching into fists on the table. "If Hector Godwin catches wind of his daughter being part of The Hunt, being in our club… his family won't hesitate to strike, and Storee could be caught in the crossfire."

"The Poseidon side of the Godwin family are goddamn assholes. They act first and ask questions after," Soren adds.

Merrick's gaze flickers to the dance floor, his jaw set in a hard line. "Agreed. We can't be associating with someone who's associated with the Poseidon side of the Godwins. It's a potential death sentence."

"We all consider Apollo Godwin a friend," Soren begins. "Maybe we go talk to him, explain the situation."

Locke shakes his head. "Poseidon is his uncle's side. They aren't friendly. Family or not, I doubt Apollo could help, nor would he appreciate being pulled into a mess that isn't his."

"We need to handle this delicately. If Fiora is indeed hiding out here, there's bound to be a reason." I narrow my eyes as I study the oblivious woman on the dance floor. Her movements are fluid, sensual, betraying no hint that she is a spoiled little rich girl pretending to be someone else.

Locke slams his fist on the table, startling the other patrons nearby. "I don't give a damn about her secrets. All I care about is keeping Storee safe. Get Fiora off the island tonight and back to Daddy. I don't want to get caught up in this crap at all."

I nod, understanding the gravity of the situation, as well as Locke's obsessive need to protect. "I'll take care of Fiora, but we can't just kick her off the island and think this all goes away."

Soren nods, his expression serious. "Plus, we aren't bastards. She's still a human being, and maybe there is a good reason she is hiding under a different name."

Merrick leans back in the booth, his gaze thoughtful. "And the Poseidon fucks are asses. We don't owe them a thing."

"Let's not make any decisions quite yet." I need to calm the escalating tension. "We don't know the full story yet. Yes, Fiora's presence here could pose a threat to Storee and by extension, all of us. But we can't just throw her to the wolves either."

Locke's gaze softens slightly as he looks at me. "I understand where you're coming from, but my priority is Storee. I can't risk her safety."

"And I respect that," I reply, "but why don't you take Storee on a little trip? Someplace romantic. Allow the three of us to watch and observe. See what intel we can get on Fiora, the situation, and how deep this shit could be if it blows up in our faces. A couple of days is all I need to dig more. Soren, Merrick, and I won't let her out of our sights."

Locke looks skeptical but says nothing, his gaze shifts back to the dance floor where Fiora and Storee are still lost in their dance.

"The Godwins are known for sending in their cleaners," Soren chimes in. "Hector is going to feel stupid as fuck that his precious daughter was here… playing. And that we all know about it?—"

"Means they won't hesitate to clean us up," Merrick adds.

"They've been looking for a reason to get their hands on The Vault for a long time," Locke says.

I nod. "This would give them the perfect reason to attack, and no one would blame them. They could spin this narrative to where no one would blame them for going after our heads."

Locke's expression remains grim, but he finally nods in agreement. "All right, I'll take Storee away for a few days, but you better keep me in the loop, and if anything changes or if you find out that she's a threat, I want to know immediately."

"Of course," I assure him. "We'll watch her every move."

"She's doing The Hunt tonight," Soren says. "I saw her name on the list."

I nod, aware of this information. "I know. I claimed her."

Merrick gives his classic wicked grin. "Maybe we all should. Since we all are keeping a close eye on her now."

"That's not a bad idea," Soren muses, his grim expression lightening slightly.

"Not yet," I say, harsher than intended.

Locke raises an eyebrow, studying me carefully. I've never been possessive about any of my toys before. I have never claimed anyone beyond just The Hunt.

I take a deep breath, trying to wash away the jealousy and rage at the thought of Merrick and Soren fucking Fiora. I push those thoughts aside. I can't afford to get attached. I have a job to do, and I can't let my emotions get in the way.

I must tread carefully with Fiora. There is something about her that has drawn me in, something that makes me want to protect her and keep her all to myself. But that is impossible. That's not the way we do things. It's not the way I want to do things.

Soren claps me on the back. "She's all yours tonight, if that's what you want. No worries, man."

"Just tonight. I want one more time with her. Alone. After that, she's fair game for all of us."