The night air outside the brothel was thick with smoke and perfume. Aiden stood the moment Kieran stepped out, his loyalty etched in the sharp line of his jaw.
"Come," Kieran ordered, his voice clipped.
Aiden stepped beside him, the heavy door shutting behind them with a clang that felt more like chains. They walked in silence until the neon haze of the red-light district dimmed into the shadowed backstreets.
"Boss…" Aiden's tone was cautious, almost reluctant. "Don't be mad if I ask this."
Kieran's lips curved into something between a smirk and a threat. "I know what's going on in your head."
His gaze cut toward the pavement, eyes dark with memory. "That woman… the lady. She works for Luca. This is his place. She runs the red-light district, Aiden. feeds it with women trafficked in, girls broken down and sold like livestock. I've seen her before, years ago. She brought girls to one of Luca's parties, parading them like prizes for his drug clients."
Aiden's eyes widened in realization. "Then—"
"Something's off," Kieran interrupted. "The moment I saw her face, I knew. There's more here than whores and perfume. Luca's hand is all over it." His tone sharpened like the barrel of a gun. "I'll go back tomorrow."
Aiden's voice lowered. "Boss?"
"Yes." Kieran's eyes snapped to him, lethal. "Keep it quiet. Don't tell my father. If you do… you're dead."
Aiden swallowed, but his loyalty didn't waver. "Yes, Boss."
They walked off, disappearing into the bleeding heart of Montressa.
Inside the brothel, in the dim-lit halls reeking of musk, Luca limped out of the shadows. His leg dragged behind him, blood seeping through his trousers, the aftermath of Moretti's bullets still fresh.
The lady gasped, rushing to him. "My God, sir, you're hurt!"
"Shut up," Luca snarled, gripping the wall for balance. His face was pale, contorted in pain. "Did anyone suspicious come through?"
Her lips twitched. "No, sir. Just… clients."
Luca's breath came heavy, his eyes bloodshot. "Moretti's men hit me. My crew's dead. Get me a doctor, now."
Her fingers shook as she fumbled for the phone. Minutes later, a doctor arrived, extracting the bullet, stitching the wound, and wrapping the leg in clean white bandages. His voice was curt. "No stress on the wound. If it festers, it'll rot. Do you want gangrene?"
Luca cursed under his breath. The doctor left.
"I'll stay here," Luca hissed, collapsing onto a sofa.
The lady's lips parted. "But, sir—"
His glare was enough to silence her. "This is my place. If anyone asks, you know nothing. If you slip—"
Her throat bobbed. "Yes, sir."
The next night, Kieran returned.
The brothel was alive again with its nightly theater, music thumping faintly from below, men laughing too loudly, perfume masking despair.
The lady sat draped across her chair, painting her nails crimson. Her eyes lit up when she saw him. "Oh, my handsome man returns," she purred.
Kieran's smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. "I want the same girl. Two hours." He handed her a twenty-dollar bill, his tone clipped. "And no bouncer knocks on my door."
Her smile widened, greedy. She tucked the bill into her cleavage, the paper vanishing between silk and skin. "Sure, darling. Anything for you."
He smirked faintly, following her down the hall until he reached the familiar door.
As he was about to enter the room, he heard one man approaching Lady and said, "Madam, sir is in pain, he wants to see you, it's urgent."
The lady shushed him and said, "I'll be there in 2 mins".
Kieran heard them. and the lady flashed that smile at Kieran, which clearly indicated that she was hiding something.
She said, "You go, darling, your girl is waiting for you."
Kieran analyzed her expression and smiled, nodding as if he heard nothing, and he turned towards the room.
He didn't knock, just turned the handle and stepped inside.
She was on the bed, lying on her side, her back toward him.
She turned at the sound of the door. Her eyes widened for just a second before she masked it, but her heartbeat betrayed her.
He smiled, slow and deliberate. "Hello."
She pushed herself upright. "You again?"
Kieran nodded, strolling inside with a confidence that made the small room feel smaller. "Didn't I tell you I'd come back? Two hours this time."
Her brows knit. "What?"
He sat at the edge of the bed, casual, unhurried. "Two hours. With you."
She eyed him warily, arms folding across her chest. "So? Will you actually do something this time, or just talk nonsense again?"
Kieran leaned closer, his breath warm against her skin. Instinctively, she leaned back. His smirk widened. "If you agree to kiss me on the lips, I won't talk."
Her eyes flashed, sharp. "Look. I don't know who you are or what you want, but if you're not here to touch me, then don't come."
He tilted his head, amused. "Why do you say it like that? I'm saving you from two hours of abuse and paying you five times what anyone else would."
"Exactly," she snapped, scoffing. "Why?"
His voice lowered. "Because I feel like it."
The words shouldn't have mattered. They were nothing but arrogance. But his tone, his eyes—they made her heart stutter.
Her voice softened despite herself. "Why?"
He didn't look away. "Because I don't want you hurt."
Silence stretched. She studied him, trying to read him as though he were another cruel man in disguise. But his expression… it was unreadable, dangerous, and yet disturbingly gentle.
"Stop doubting me," he said softly. "Talk to me instead."
She exhaled sharply, rolling her eyes. "Fine. What do you want to talk about?"
"What's your name? How long have you been here? How did you end up in this?" His questions fell one after another like bullets, precise and heavy.
She flopped back on the bed with a sigh. "That's an emotional backstory."
"I want to know it." He said.
Her lips twitched in bitter humor. "What are you, some kind of spy agent?"
His chuckle was low, rich, and dangerous. "No. Why would you think that?"
"Because you're too interested. Men don't ask for names here." Her gaze hardened. "Why are you so interested in me? I'm just a sex worker."
Kieran's eyes sharpened, cutting through her words. "You're not just that. You're a human being. A young woman was forced into this. Numb. Shut down." His voice dipped lower, rougher. "And I see it."
Her breath caught. She looked at him longer than she intended.
"Tell me your story," he urged.
She studied his face again, searching for the catch, the cruelty, the trap. Instead, all she found was a steady intensity that didn't falter.
"You could've asked any of the others," she said finally. "They'd happily pour out their sob stories for you."
"I'm not interested in them." His lips twitched into a smirk. "I want yours."
Something in her chest ached. She sighed, resting her head on her elbow. "Fine. Nothing special. My parents died in an accident when I was thirteen. My uncle didn't want me; he said I was a burden. So he sold me. Sold me here. For a price."
Kieran's jaw tensed, every muscle in his body rigid.
She kept speaking, her voice flat, detached. "That was ten years ago. I've been here ever since."
"You've been doing this since thirteen?" His voice was low, dangerous.
She nodded, no flicker of sadness or shame in her eyes. Just emptiness.
"Didn't you try to run?"
She gave a short, bitter laugh. "Run? Didn't you see the bouncer yesterday? Every time I tried, I was caught."
She shifted, turning her back to him, and lifted her shirt slightly. The dim light revealed her back, lined with jagged scars, a cruel mosaic carved into her skin.
"These are my rewards for trying." Her chuckle was hollow, echoing.
Kieran's heart thundered, heat flooding his veins. His blood boiled, not just with rage but something deeper, something protective, dangerous.
"And that's it," she finished flatly. "I accepted it. Surviving is easier than fighting."
He stared at her, his jaw locked, his fists tight. Then his voice came, firm, final.
"From today onwards, I'm your only client. No one else touches you."
Her head snapped toward him. "What?"
"You heard me." His eyes blazed into hers, unwavering. "From today, only me."
She laughed, short and sharp, disbelieving. "Are you insane?"
Kieran reached into his wallet, pulled out another twenty, and held it in front of her face. When she didn't move, he slipped it straight into her cleavage with rough precision.
"You're mine now," he said. His voice was low, dark, a promise and a threat.
And then he turned, leaving her sitting there, the bill burning against her skin, her mind spinning in disbelief.
She whispered to herself, almost trembling
"What the hell are you?"