Blood Canine

**THREE YEARS LATER**

IRIS

I first felt the hands on my breast as I danced. In the dim, it went lower down to my abdomen. The rage flowed to my cheeks, but I said nothing, just twirled away so his rough hands won't reach me anymore.

The room was dim red, containing just a large bed and a pole in the middle. This space was for men who wanted a private dancer and could afford it. The bedsheets and curtains proved it. Silky materials. Red and sinful.

The shiny bra, made with beads, shook as my body twirled to the sound of slow music. An Art I learned for a year after coming into Blood Canine.

I was a slave here. Found by the owner of a strip club, who also recruited girls to service members. Or pole dance in the pub. But those who had money received VIP treatment like this.

Blood Canine was the direct opposite of Silver Mystic. The Pack had a mad system—survival of the fittest. You either survived here or died. It was up to you sometimes. And most times.

It was not.

Like now, almost nake