Chapter 2

It had been five years since that dreadful day and even worse night. Avalyn vowed never to return to her hometown, where she grew up and was the only place she knew besides her University at the time. She didn't return, just as she said she wouldn't, Oklahoma is now nothing more than a painful memory she wishes she could forget. Unfortunately, the world does not operate in this manner.

“And up next,” the Disco Jockey announced in the raucous club, “is a personal favourite, The Queen!” cheers erupted like lions' roars.

As she exited the backstage area and stepped into the stage lights, her coworkers wished her luck, the red gladiators on her feet standing out against the all-black lingerie.The studded red leather collar around her neck glistened under the bright white light, the chains attached to her suit as decorations dangled but the biggest attraction of all was the Cat mask that had whiskers. Tonight, in the Sin City Vamps Strip Club, was pet themed.

The crowd's favourite.

The Queen cat-walked to the pole at the end of a runway. Money was being thrown at her before her hand even graced the long, beaming metal stretching from the platform to the ceiling. When The Queen reached the pole she went straight into the action, grabbing it with one hand and then the other and pulling herself up. At first, all she did was swing her body around it, mimicking the way someone walks on the ground but in the air, she turned things up by spreading her legs in a straight line. Still holding up her weight and carrying herself round and round, as the cheers grew louder she put one foot down but raised the other above her head. The Queen eyed the already seduced crowd, once again grabbed the metal bar with both hands and lifted herself off the ground, still having one leg up.

She moved her body around it gracefully, as a swan would when moving across the water. But it soon became wild when the erotic music became explicit female rap songs. Of course, she twerked to them earning her dozens of hundred dollar bills. When her performance ended she hailed her girls over to help pick up the money. Immediately after she retreated backstage to calm herself. Her friends offered company but she declined.

“Thanks, but I just want to kick my feet up and smoke a joint. Catch my drift?” she winked at the group. “Tell Dream I said good luck. You can all go now and please shut the door.” they shrugged but did as told anyway. She is The Queen after all.

And that's exactly what she did. Throw her shaved legs on the counter in her dressing room and lit up a blunt. As her nerves calmed themselves down her mind drifted to the past and how fucked up it all was. And it goes beyond meeting Werewolves in real life and being betrayed by your whole family. Still, that memory of how the wolves savaged the blonde-haired male's body beyond recognition will forever traumatise her. She had to work her ass off her first year in Imperial City to afford a decent, legit therapist for it. But that was all put behind her now, what she's concerned about is two things: the first is the same wolves on her tail, she's certain they're looking for her because she witnessed a homicide. The second would be the loan sharks, but that's a whole tale of its own.

“My life is such a nightmare. For God's sake, I graduated from a Christian University, how the hell did I end up shaking my ass for a living? I have hit rock bottom.” she outed the cigarette butt in the ashtray, and that's when she realized something. Her Ruby Velvet 739 red lipstick wasn't there, and that's where she left it.

In a panic, she frantically searched for it but it was nowhere to be found, it didn't belong to her either. The rightful owner was the owner of the club, Miss Vittoria Singh. And she didn't fuck around when it came to her possessions. Worried about the wrath she'll face she slipped on pink Crocs and a robe, her mask still on, and ran back into the club to look for who she guessed had it.

Dream Kennedy. Her best friend of four years.

She couldn't see her anywhere when she stepped in. “Dream! DK! Where are you?” she yelled her name but the loud music plus bass boost drowned her voice out entirely. Avalyn went around the capacious room searching for a tall girl with a model body, ash grey hair and septum piercing but couldn't find her.

Avalyn managed to accidentally slam into someone, spilling the red alcoholic beverage all over their white T-shirt. She took a step back, hands on her mouth, worrying about the big mess she had just created. The stain was a conspicuous one. The worried dancer looked up at the person she just ran into, he caught her eyes, she was shocked and he was infuriated.

If only looks could kill.

”Do you have any idea how expensive this shirt is?” he half-yelled, “And you just fucking ruined it? Don't you whores know how to stay in your lane?”

“Whore?” Avalyn was taken aback, “Well if throwing it back counts as prostitution then I own it. It's a lot better than being a lapdog to La Cosa Nostra.” on cue the music ceased.

The man looked her up and down, and carried his eyes around the now quiet club, wondering if she was talking to him. She doesn't even know him. It can't be him, right?

“Yeah limp dick, I'm talkin’ to you. Instead of going around insulting women why don't you go refurbish your face? I don't know who's uglier, you or Freddy Krueger. And for the record, your voice sounds like a hedgehog screaming,” the stripper shot him a nasty glare. “Go cry about it. Asshole.”

“Oh, little girl, little girl. You have no idea what you've just gotten yourself into,” the furious man made a step toward the unyielding woman but the men on either side of him pulled him back. “I see you've got an appetite for death so I'll serve you.”

“Whatever,” she put her hand up in his face and walked off. Over and done with the conversation.

Unfortunately, he wasn't done with it.

···

The hunt for her strippers best friend brought her outside the safety of the club. Frustrated, she pulled on her ginger curls, held her neck and gave it soft squeezes to reduce her stress levels. Ava leaned on the cold wall, kicked her feet up on it and heaved a heavy sigh. She is so screwed. Her eyes stayed on the wet asphalt before they looked west and east, that's how she spotted a group of cars, not just any cars, Rolls Royces, Bugatti Chirons, Lambos and Maseratis. At first, she admired them, then felt sadness, and then a twisted idea breached the walls of her mind.

𝑴𝒂𝒚𝒃𝒆 𝑰 𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒈𝒐 𝒄𝒉𝒆𝒄𝒌 𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒔𝒆 𝒐𝒖𝒕. 𝑾𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒊𝒇 𝒎𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒚 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒍𝒆𝒇𝒕 𝒖𝒏𝒂𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐?

She didn't think twice before she began creeping. Avalyn stalked closer to the parked cars, looking from all angles repeatedly hoping to not spot a lookout. In no time she was amid the flashy vehicles, sneakily she looked into each car making sure the place was deserted. At first, she didn't see anything but the Rolls-Royce Phantom limousine brought her blessings, or perhaps, curses.

Which came in the form of a bag of money. Dollar bills excited her, she drew a pin out of her hair and successfully opened the door. Luckily it had no alarm set. Ava double-checked the insides making sure there was no one but her present, satisfied knowing she was completely alone, she stealthily took the black bag out. She closed the door softly and bolted back to the club. Avalyn knew the dangers of doing this, but there was no one around, they didn't want it. It was probably owned by some business tycoon anyway.

Just minutes after the girl had run off a deep chuckle, ricocheted throughout the high-toned limousine. The light from the moon feeding into the limo revealed electric-blue eyes that twinkled in the moonlight with insanity. The man shifted in his fine leather seat, throwing his ankle onto his opposite knee. The burnished, snakeskin dress shoe ticked while being propped up, a hand also came into the light that had a shot glass in it. Rings with various jewels lined his long slender digits. Again, the man chuckled.

“And then they wonder why they die so often,” he purred in delight. “Poor, unfortunate, soul. Stealing from a Godfather. How unwise can a woman get?”