Chapter Forty-One

Orik Thompson was a lackey.

The fact that she had been thinking he was a player in these games for a whole year made her sick to her stomach. He didn't even own the brothel. He just kidnapped people from above and kept a steady supply of humans available to the vampires below. He was one in a string of cronies working for the actual owner of Red Velvet.

It took more time than she'd planned to dedicate to the task to finally get Orik alone. She'd clocked him coming out the back of the brothel with some other vamps, shouting about the "good time" they'd had. She'd wanted to kill them all right then and there.

Unfortunately, she couldn't make a scene. This was revenge, but she wasn't stupid. She couldn't jeopardize the mission with Graves. She still needed access to Third Floor and to find that exit to get Graves inside. Time was running short, but now that they knew she could get inside, she could recon night and day.

The other vampires patted him on the back, and he continued off alone through the market. She trailed him at considerable distance. He was a vampire brute, exactly as described by the bartender, with a stout build and wrinkled brow, as if he'd been turned many years into his human life. It didn't make him any less deadly.

When he entered an empty alleyway and pulled out a cigarette, she took her chance. Kierse checked the auto-silencer on her pistol before putting a bullet in his leg.

Orik cried out, falling to the ground and clutching his knee. It wouldn't keep him down long. She needed to make her move now.

She stepped out of the shadows at his side and felt all her pent-up energy from the last year unleash from her. She didn't give him a second to speak before burying her fist in his face. It didn't do enough damage. There was a reason she didn't normally go up against a monster. Not like this. She was usually stealth, not muscle. But this time, it didn't matter.

"What the fuck?" Orik cried out.

Two knives whisked out of her jacket, strong and sturdy. She poised them crossed at his neck.

"You brought a woman here a year ago," she snarled.

He laughed. With a bullet in his leg and knives at his neck, he still laughed. "Bring a lot of girls here."

Maybe she should have just killed him. One less asshole on her streets. But fuck, she wanted answers.

"A woman," she corrected. "Roughly five feet tall with a pink pixie cut and blue eyes."

The vamp laughed again. "Could have been me. Who's to say?"

Kierse felt fury in her veins. She kicked out at the wound in his knee, and he screamed in pain. "You might want to reconsider whether you remember."

"There's lots of girls. Lots of boys, too," he cried out. "I don't remember them all."

She narrowed her eyes at him, wondering if she'd made a mistake. Was he lying? Was he stalling for time to recover before he got the jump on her? Was he just heartless? Could they all be true?

"Torra. Her name was Torra Hastings," Kierse spat. "Ring a bell?"

His eyes flared wide. Now that name meant something.

"Oh, Torra?" he asked with another stupid laugh. "'Course I know Torra."

She blinked. Know. He knows Torra. That didn't make sense. Her brain couldn't pick up the present tense fast enough.

"What did you do with her, you bastard?"

"I delivered her to King Louis, of course," he said with a vicious smile. "That's who all the Red Velvet workers owe their debts to."

King Louis.

Her blood ran cold. She should have known it would all lead back to him. The true villain and mastermind of Third Floor and all its depravity.

"What happened to her?"

"Last I saw, she was on break," Orik said.

"On break?"

"At Red Velvet."

The pieces all fit together at once. He knows Torra. Not knew. Knows. She belonged to King Louis. She was on break. At Red Velvet. Torra was there now. She was still alive.

Kierse looked away from Orik, her gaze going back to the red monstrosity in the distance. Torra was alive.

And that was the moment Orik struck. He snarled and lunged for her. His vampire teeth sharpened and elongated as he used his considerable strength to try to overpower her.

She was distracted by the revelation, but instinct took over. She slipped into slow motion just before he could reach her. She turned back to him, sidestepping his approach. Her arm continued on its trajectory, and because he hadn't been anticipating that she'd have any kind of super speed, he moved right into her. With the force of her slow motion meeting his vampire speed, the knife went straight through his jugular.

His mouth formed an O of shock right before she lopped his head off.

"Fuck," she hissed.

She jerked out of the spray of his blood, which missed her by inches. He was dead. She'd killed a monster in monster territory. This place seemed lawless, but she needed to get the fuck away from the scene just in case they came looking for who'd offed one of King Louis's lackeys.

She didn't regret killing him. Couldn't regret killing him. Not just for Torra but for all the people he'd taken over the years. All the humans he'd treated like chattel. For them. Good riddance.

Anyway, she had a new mission.

She needed to find Torra and get her the hell out of here.