LOGINChase.
Rovero Gardens, 57th Avenue, New York. Later... My lips tighten as we walk into the party. Expensive, gilded chandeliers hang from the high ceiling of the vast hall where the event is being held. A charity gala, the tabloids say. An event meant to raise awareness about the poverty eating into the world. A lie. In here, we all know it’s a farce. A decoy for the real thing. The truth is uglier. This party is a spectacle. A private indulgence. A place where powerful men, my father’s clients, wealthy kingpins, publicly fuck pre-selected women. But tonight is different. Unexpected. Tonight, members of the Olia cult will be present. Tonight, they intend to put on their own show. They’ve brought women with them. Women who will eventually be slaughtered in front of us all. Their bodies carried out in black bags once the pleasure is done. A sick indulgence. A declaration of supremacy over the weak. Over those who are not members of the cult. I’m not a member. Neither is my father. But because they’re our clients, because we supply them women for their disgusting appetites, we were invited. And as my father’s son, I’m usually sent in his place. Tonight, he gave me a second surprise. He chose to attend. My gaze flicks to Lucy. Masked. She's pressed against my side. Her fingers grip my arm tight. I shouldn’t have brought her here. But I couldn’t leave her behind. Not alone. Not in the care of guards I don’t fully trust. Not when danger is this close, breathing down our necks. What I hadn’t anticipated was my father and the cult present. The memory hits me hard, sharp and unwelcome. Earlier. Back at the house, after I’d fucked her with my tongue. Just before I left the bedroom, my mouth still tasting of her. My phone buzzed. Dad: I’m attending the gala tonight. The members of the cult will be hosting a spectacle. I intend to speak to their leader and apologize for the setback. The disappearance of that whore, Salt. My lips had tightened. My blood had gone cold. For a moment, I almost want to attend tonight's party. Almost changed my mind. But I couldn’t. So I told her not to leave my sight. And she hasn’t. She’s obeying me, after I warned her what's at stake. Her life. “Are we late?” She whispers now, her mouth brushing my ear. Her breasts rub against my arm, soft and warm. My balls tighten instantly. “Yes. But we’re still in order.” I smile at her. She’s masked. A rhinestone encrusted kitten mask. My kitten. Beautiful, special. A small smile tugs at my lips as I inhale her scent. Flowers. One of the perfumes I bought her. I intend to protect her. I vowed to protect her even before she chose to stay. And now that she has, now that she’s under my protection, even if that’s the only reason she’s with me, I don’t care. All that matters is that she’s mine. The memory of the first day I saw her crashes into me, hard. She was dressed in nothing but rhinestones. A rhinestone thong. A rhinestone bra. Her hair flowed in cascading waves down her back as she danced on the pole. I’d arrived the room after my father summoned me. Called me to sit in on a business arrangement with Davenport. A deal to pick girls for one of his clients. I hadn’t asked which. “What do you think of that one, Chase?” Dad had said, pointing at Lucy as she danced beside another girl. “Her name is Salt.” I’d really looked at her then. Admired her beauty. The life in her eyes. “She’s beautiful.” I muttered. “Perfect,” Dad said, pleased. “Bring her to me, Davenport.” As Davenport moved, Dad smirked. “She will be given to the Olia cult.” I’d paled. “The Olia cult?” I sputtered. “The ones who requested womb and ovaries? From a girl of your choosing?” “Yes.” He snickered. “She’s perfect, right? I already have a team prepared to harvest her organs, as specified.” He'd announced, cold and casual. Davenport brought her over, but I barely noticed him. All I could see was her. The girl I had just met. The girl about to be stolen. Sacrificed. Even after she was drugged, even after my father fucked her in front of me, I never looked away. I memorized her. Her lips. Her breasts. Her moans. The way her body moved so fluidly beneath him. I burned. Burned to have her. Burned to take her away from all of them. That was four days ago. Now she’s with me. Safe, only if my father never sees her. Ever. “We won’t stay long.” I murmur. I plan to show my face and leave before he arrives. Before the cult begins. “Alright,” she says softly. And then, “Chase.” I still at the sound of that voice. Dad's voice. Instantly, I recover. Smoothen my expression. Match his tone. “Hi, Dad.” Lucy stiffens beside me. A quiet gasp tears from her lips. “And who is this beauty?” Dad asks. None of your concern, I almost say. But before I can, a voice booms over the microphone. “Ladies and gentlemen. The moment we’ve all been waiting for.” My blood drains. Six girls file onto the stage, naked. Their bodies gleam under the lights. Horror grips me as men around the room begin to strip. Jackets. Shirts. Pants. Until they’re bare. “Wow.” Dad mutters absently. “I suppose I’ll speak to the leader after this.” I don’t hear him. I’m gripping Lucy’s hand as men climb onto the stage. No preamble. No hesitation. I count fifteen men, surrounding six women. Men the public calls respectable. Tonight, they’re animals. They ravish the women. Every hole. One after the other. Then at the same time. The girls are drugged. Positioned and used. Moans rip through the room from the girls. My stomach turns. “I can’t look, Chase…” Lucy whispers, trying to pull away. I yank her back. “Don’t draw attention.” I hiss. “You’re the only masked guest here. If you leave, they’ll notice.” Her body trembles. Then a mask slips from one of the girls on the stage. “May?” Lucy whispers, recognition in her voice. Her body goes rigid. “No… no… you can’t let them do this to her…” She struggles against me. Then a man raises a knife and slices the girl's throat. Lucy screams, just as the crowd erupts. I don’t wait. I clamp my hand over her mouth and drag her out, fast, before anyone notices. Before anyone stops us. Before someone recognizes her. Before my father realizes. Because the moment he does, we’re both dead.Lucy. Old Souk, Jounieh. Later… Night. We walk through a beautiful, vibrant street of Old Souk, Jounieh. A coastal town near the waterfront, filled with beautiful classical architectural sites. “These old streets carry centuries of history that have wowed tourists for a long time,” Chase told me moments ago when we ate dinner at a quaint restaurant situated close to the waterfront. The lapping waves drifted toward us, creating a dreamy atmosphere. We were eating hummus topped with meat, warm pita bread, tabbouleh, and spicy kebabs at the time. The food mixed with the wine was exciting and sweet. Bursting across a thousand taste buds on my tongue, making everything jump to life. That was a few moments ago. And now we walk hand in hand along a cobblestoned street of Old Souk. That's what he called this place. Old Souk. The red roofed buildings are a wondrous, picturesque sight, even at this time of night. Chase is dressed in only black suit pants and a white shirt, sleeves rol
Chase. Villa Rose, Jounieh, Lebanon. Saturday, 28th March. Three days later... Morning. I'm sitting on the terrace of my private villa in the coastal area of Jounieh, near Beirut. A property my father knows nothing about. A property no one knows about because I kept it a secret. A property I named after my beautiful mother's favorite flower. Roses. The warmth and peace of this place drive me insane most times. The sea laps majestically just a few feet from the house, swooshing like beautiful wave soundtracks. The warm heat that sometimes accompanies the day when it isn't rainy winter weather only adds to its charm. And today, with my Kitten here with me, I can't quite describe the peace that travels through me each moment my gaze drifts to her. She's seated on a pool chair right now. Her long tanned legs peek out from beneath the black sheer caftan she has on. One that does little to hide the lacy two piece bikini underneath. One that had my mind drifting to dirty thoughts twen
Lucy. The rest of the world fades as Chase stands in front of me. Unscathed. Alive. Well. Everything about him is as complete as I last saw him. Cameo stands beside me. He was the one who called me last night to tell me Chase was back. “Are you serious?” I asked him when he delivered the news over the phone. “Yes, Ms Roshid,” he said calmly. Even he couldn't hide the relief and excitement in his voice. “Just get what you need ready. I will be heading your way early in the morning with the driver so we can come pick you up.” Cameo said it quietly. “The others will need to remain so they can watch your grandma's house.” I didn't argue. I didn't need to argue. All I wanted was to see Chase again. To be certain he was alive and well. To tell him how much I loved him. I remember leaping into my sister's arms. Crying out with joy. I remember Grandma and Mum being alerted by our shouts of joy. And they joined in the celebration when we broke the news to them. And when morning came, I
Chase. Chase’s Residence. New York. Wednesday, 25th March. Next day… Morning. My eyes move briskly to the clock on the wall. 11 a.m. Exhaustion settles heavily over me as I sit before the news lady, listening to the barrage of questions she has thrown at me. “How was it for you, Mr Olympus? When the kidnappers pointed the guns in your faces… Those last few seconds before the gun went off… Were you terrified?” The woman, Kate Rivers, asks. Intrigue washing across her face. She holds her breath, obviously spellbound by whatever cock and bull story I have fed them over the last few hours since I was let go. Silence settles around us. The entire news crew of Let’s Hear The Truth stands behind her, watching us. And I know millions of others are watching me too. Waiting to hear the full truth of what happened there. My truth. Memory drifts back to when Kate Rivers, host of Let’s Hear The Truth, called me three hours ago for an exclusive. “We all need to know, Mr Olympus, what h
Lucy. Ashbourne Heights, Springfield, Massachusetts. Tuesday, 24th March. Next day. Late Evening. Crying hurts. Gosh, it hurts so much. It's like my lungs want to explode. And each time, I'm begging them, just hold on a little longer. Just breathe. It's been two days, and my eyes haven't left my phone. Haven't left the news. I'm still waiting to hear news about Chase. Still waiting for any of his men outside the house to stumble in and tell me he's been found. Or maybe for Cameo to send word to me that he's back. Anything is fine by me. As I lie on my bed, I remember that night the news broke of his abduction. I remember how panic detonated inside me and made me insane. I had blindly rushed to the front of the house, ignoring the calls from my sister, my mum, and my grandmother. I had walked down the driveway of Grandma's home wearing only my kitty fluffy slippers and my pajamas. Until I was knocking on the window of the SUV that always stood beneath the street lamp watching me
Crane Olympus. New York. Hudson Crest, Irvington Village. Monday, 23rd March. Two days later… Night. All the Guccini top generals are present in Timothy's meeting room at his home. Myself included. It's been two days since our boss, Timothy Shoeman, leader of the Guccini Organization, was abducted. Two days since Chase was abducted. And the deadline given to the rest of us in the gang expires in the next ten minutes. For two days now, we've all been cooped up in here. Planning strategies. Searching. Tracking the call of their abductors. But to no avail. Worse, we don't know who kidnapped them. We only know they gave us a deadline to make a decision. To do whatever is required for the safety of our boss and Chase. My gut tightens now as my gaze fixes on the damned antique grandfather clock. Its seconds are counting down to the appointed deadline. “What do you think they will demand of us?” One of the men seated at the table murmurs, his voice low. “I don't know,” another respon
Tamara. Hudson Crest, Irvington Village. 21st March, Saturday. Two days later... Night. My red high heels click against the marble as I walk inside the famous home of Timothy Shoeman, known Boss of the Guccini Organization. My eyes sharply take in the guests as they walk past me, all of the
Tamara. Wednesday, 17th February. Two days later. Grinds and Axes Club and Bar, 57th Street. Night. I walk into the club. Steps precise. Eyes sharp as usual as I take in my surroundings. Music blares through the surround speakers. Bodies pressed together while men and women crowd the dance floor
Lucy.Late Noon. Hours Later…I sit at my work counter, and I can’t stem the flood of memories that keep crashing over me like relentless waves.Chase. His tongue all over me. His lips all over me. The whole of yesterday during Valentine’s Day.The delicate kisses. The tenderness. His attention to
Chase. Sunday, February 14th. Hours later. Morning. 5:30 AM. Dawn slowly crests over the horizon as Cameo slips into the car beside me. I tear my gaze away from the icy water where my men have spent most of the night dumping the acid burned remains of Bowman and his friends. “All done?” I ask







