Name: Rachel Dawson.
What? The book about her murder is riveting.
Using my phone, I download a burner phone app and use that to get a new number to put in the phone field. I create a new email account, also via my phone, and use that for the next required field.
Then, my finger drags the cursor to the yes/no toggle, and my breath holds.
“Individual is existing Club Venom member: yes.”
Before I lose my nerve, I quickly scroll to the bottom of the page and click the submit button. Part of me suddenly panics, wondering what comes next. Do I have to provide a membership number? Does Dante manually review the list for his new primal kink portal? What happens if he recognizes the name is bullshit? What the fuck was I thinking, using the name of a murdered girl who he knows I’ve been reading about to—
My phone dings. Jolting, I glance down.
Oh shit.
It’s an email in my new fake account from Club Venom. Shaking, I tap on it, opening the email as my pulse quickens. An all-black page greets me, with just four words in gold that both terrify and electrify me:
Welcome to the chase.
Beneath it, there’s a link to the online login page. Still shaking, I navigate there and fill out the required fields for creating a password and selecting a username.
What the fuck is wrong with you, Bianca? You’re broken.
Hmm.
I start to type in “BrokenDancer” as a username, but that hits too close to home. I backspace and go with “BrokenBee” instead.
Then I click submit.
I half expect an explosion to go off. Or an alarm, alerting Dante to my intrusion. But all I get is the quiet ding of another new email.
Thank you for submitting your information, Ms. Dawson. You may use the portal to add in any specific preferences for a potential partner. Or you can choose to be surprised.
I want the surprise. Selecting attributes feels like it takes away from the thrill of a stranger doing…well, what I want them to do.
You will be able to chat with any prospective partners via the portal chat function. We highly encourage members to communicate exclusively through the portal. Exchanging numbers or moving to other chat platforms potentially takes away from the anonymity that we encourage at Club Venom. Please always remember to go over hard and soft limits, desires, and other particulars with your partner before meeting.
We will connect you with a suitable partner as soon as possible.
Heat pools between my thighs.
I’m really doing this. This is really happening.
I exit from the portal dashboard on Dante’s computer and make sure to cover any other evidence of my crimes. I slowly close the cover, then bolt to the guest room, brush my teeth, and slip under the covers.
The chase is on.
4
KRATOS
My prey has zero idea they’re being watched. Followed. Analyzed.
Hunted.
From the darkness concealing me, I watch my prey’s lips pull into a smile, revealing a flash of human emotion and showing me a glimpse of their “person-ness”…I won’t call it humanity…that will be extinguished in the next two to three minutes.
The glimmer of a smile doesn’t deter me. It doesn’t make me feel badly about what I’m about to do in the slightest.
Because actions have consequences. When those actions involve the trafficking of young girls into the hands of monsters to suffer a fate too horrifying to comprehend, the consequences will be appropriately horrific.
Despite my enormous size, I move silently in the shadows. If my prey tonight were to bolt and run, I’d have no trouble chasing them down. I’d enjoy it, too. But tonight, all I have time for is payback.
I’m not sanctimonious or arrogant enough to call this “justice”. I’m not “righting any wrongs” here. Yes, I’m guided by my own views on monsters like the one within my sights at this very moment, and he does deserve what’s about to happen to him, in spades.
But tonight is ultimately about self-indulgence.
It’s about letting my monster out.
Feeding the beast, and his need for blood, violence, and mayhem.
Pulling away from the dirty, grime-streaked window looking into the warehouse, I move along the alley at the back of the old brick building. A dumpster I already found gives me access to the old fire escape, which in turn gets me onto the roof.
Once up there, I move even more silently. I keep to the shadows and confine my footsteps to the places I marked yesterday with chalk—to the boards that won’t squeak and alert the cockroaches below that the exterminator is coming.
One, I don’t want them to freak out and do anything stupid with…or to…the girls they’ve got down there. But two, I don’t want them to scatter. Again, I’d chase them all down one by one if need be. But work smarter, as the saying goes, not harder. It’s already taken me a bit longer than I wanted to track down this distribution center of theirs after the change in plans the other night. I’d meant to carve the answers to my questions on the two former Carveli enforcers with the tip of a knife.
But they weren’t alone. And their company proved…distracting.
