The office, Victor's private sanctuary, was a cave of amber and shadow. The city, a glittering wound of light, bled across the glass behind him. I stood frozen in the doorway, the thrum of the club a faint pulse through the thick wood. The air in here was different—sharp, clinical. The kind of stillness that precedes a storm. He hadn't looked at me yet, but I could feel his presence like a physical force. Victor St. Clair, in this mode, was a sculptor of silence.
"Close the door, Cassandra."
The words were a whisper, but they cut through the quiet like a razor. I did as he asked, the soft click of the lock a final seal. My heart hammered against my ribs, a wild bird trapped in a cage. This wasn't a scene. There was no game, no pleasure in this tension. This was something else entirely. Something real.
He finally looked at me, his eyes two chips of ice. He slid a piece of paper across the desk, its white stark against the dark wood. It was an email, generic address, a single line of text: Someone inside Elysium is selling you out.
The words were a punch to the gut. I reached for the paper, my hand shaking. "Is this… serious?" I asked, the question feeling flimsy and foolish as soon as it left my lips.
Victor leaned forward, his hands clasped on the desk. "I've been in this business too long, Cassandra, to ignore smoke. And this isn't just smoke. It's a crackle." He tapped the paper. "The timing is too perfect. Too many little things have been off lately. A whisper here, a rumor there. Details that shouldn't have left these walls." He looked at me, and in his gaze, I saw the truth. He was afraid. Not for himself, but for the empire he'd built with his bare hands. For Elysium.
"Do you know who?" The question was a desperate plea for a name, a face to put to the betrayal.
He shook his head, the movement tight and controlled. "That's the problem. It could be anyone. And until I find out who, the circle shrinks."
Victor's definition of "tightening the circle" was not a gentle phrase. It was an edict. The club, a place of carefully orchestrated chaos, was instantly transformed into a fortress. Guards were doubled, their faces grim, their movements sharp and purposeful. Marco, the head of security, was a ghost in the shadows, reviewing every single camera feed, cross-referencing every name on the guest log. Dungeon monitors were told to watch, to listen, to report anything that seemed out of place. Passwords were changed, access revoked, a digital fortress built in the space of a single, breathless night.
The staff meeting was less a meeting and more of a summons. We gathered in the lounge, the usual laughter and flirtations replaced by a palpable, suffocating silence. Victor stood before us, a dark silhouette against the backdrop of the city lights. His voice was cold, flat, devoid of the usual charm he used to command a room. "This is not a place for loose tongues," he said, his gaze sweeping over each of us, a personal judgment rendered on every face. "Discretion is our lifeblood. It's what keeps this place breathing. And anyone found to be compromising that… will answer to me directly."
The air thickened, a heavy shroud of fear and distrust. It was the feeling you get just before a scene, when the line between pleasure and pain blurs, and you don't know if you're about to be kissed or bound. Jennifer, a creature of pure, unadulterated pleasure, sat in her crimson corset, her usual languid grace replaced by a sharp, alert stillness. Everyone looked at each other, their eyes filled with a thousand unspoken questions.
After the meeting, I found myself on the balcony, a cigarette between my fingers, a cold wind on my face. Lena materialized beside me, a coffee cup clutched in her hands. She didn't drink from it, just stared into the dark liquid. "You feel it too, right?" she murmured, her voice barely a whisper.
I nodded, exhaling a plume of smoke. "It's like the walls grew ears tonight."
She let out a short, humorless laugh, the sound swallowed by the wind. "At Elysium? They always have."
Her words, simple as they were, clung to me like a curse. I didn't know if it was gossip or a warning, but the meaning was clear. The trust we had all taken for granted was gone, replaced by a deep and abiding suspicion. I felt Victor's gaze on me, a weight on my back, and with it, the silent promise of his power. Of what he was willing to do to protect what was his. The world of Elysium, a gilded cage of silk and champagne, had just revealed its teeth. And tonight, I realized, there were more than just secrets shifting in the dark. There was blood.