Chspter 25 - Bruises In Velvet

The girl wasn’t supposed to be there.

Raven had followed Dante into the derelict loading bay behind the old textile factory on the east side. She’d kept her distance, ducking behind concrete pillars and rusting machinery, heart racing. She knew she was taking a risk, but the moment Dante met with the man in the gray coat, exchanging an envelope for a coded phrase, “shipment rerouted to the villa”, she had her proof.

That's when she heard it, a whimper, muffled and weak. It came from a side door, slightly ajar. Raven didn’t think as she slipped inside.

The air was thick with mold and chemical rot. A single bulb swung overhead, casting harsh shadows. She saw the girl curled on a stained mattress in the corner, barely conscious, one arm bandaged sloppily, the other covered in bruises that painted her skin in shades of plum and yellow. Her eyes fluttered open, vacant and drugged.

Raven’s throat closed. This was it. The evidence. The nightmare she’d only read about in anonymous testimonies. Now it had a face. A name, maybe. A soul.

She stepped forward, whispering, “It’s okay… I’m not going to hurt you. I can get you out.”

“Don’t.”

The voice behind her was calm, cool, and quiet enough to slice skin.

Raven froze.

Dante stepped into the room, the door clicking shut behind him. He didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t brandish a weapon. He didn’t need to.

“She’s not yours to save,” he said.

Raven turned slowly, keeping herself between him and the girl. “You’re trafficking them outside the club now. Jaxon doesn’t know. Or does he?”

Dante’s gaze didn’t flicker. “You think you’ve uncovered something new? That Jaxon’s blind to this world?”

“I think he’s not the monster you are.”

That got a reaction, a smirk, thin and humorless.

“Oh, Raven,” he said, stepping forward. “You still believe there are monsters and men. That’s cute.”

She clenched her fists. “If you touch her again...”

“I won’t. Not tonight, because you’ll walk out of here, and you’ll pretend you didn’t see this.” He leaned in, voice like steel wrapped in silk. “Because Jaxon can’t save you from what’s coming. He won’t even try when he realizes what you’ve cost him.”

His meaning struck like a slap. The club. The business. The family.

“I don’t scare that easily,” she said, though her voice trembled.

“Good.” Dante’s eyes narrowed. “Because what’s coming won’t just hurt. It’ll break you.”

He stepped aside, gesturing to the door. “Go.”

Raven hesitated, then took one last glance at the girl, breathing, barely, and slipped out. The warehouse swallowed her footsteps like a secret.

Jaxon was waiting when she returned to the penthouse. She was still in her jeans and flats, muddy from the factory grounds, hair windblown. Her heart hadn’t slowed down since she’d left the girl behind. Her hands wouldn’t stop shaking.

“You’re late,” he said, voice deceptively calm.

“Sorry,” she said, avoiding his eyes. “I stayed to check on my friend. The one who got the locker threat.”

Jaxon didn’t move. “At an offsite warehouse?”

Her heart slammed once, hard.

“I have security footage, Raven.”

She turned to pour herself a drink, hands fumbling at the decanter. “I just wanted answers.”

“You could have died. I told you to wait. You didn't listen."

“I’ve taken worse risks.”

“For a story?” he snapped. “Or for something else?”

She whirled on him, raw and reckless. “Don’t pretend you’ve never lied to me.”

His jaw tightened. “I haven’t.”

Raven laughed bitterly. “You lied by omission, then. About the trafficking outside Club Eden. About Dante. About how deep this all goes.”

Jaxon’s eyes went cold. “You’re not ready to play in that world.”

“Maybe not,” she whispered. “But I can’t stand by while girls get hurt.”

“You think I do?”

The pain in his voice stopped her. Not anger, ache, frustration, perhaps even fear.

“Where were you, really?” he asked again, quieter now.

She looked down. “You don’t want the truth.”

“Yes,” he said, stepping forward, closing the space between them. “I do.”

But she said nothing.

The cuffs were softer this time. Not velvet, but close. Brushed leather, familiar and worn.

Jaxon didn’t say a word as he led her into the bedroom. He didn’t ask. He didn’t instruct. He simply looked at her, eyes darker than night, and waited.

Raven stepped out of her attire. She didn’t fight it. She needed this, needed the pain, the edge, the surrender. The feeling of control slipping from her grasp in a way that didn’t feel like drowning.

He bound her wrists to the headboard, tight enough to feel, loose enough not to bruise, then he stepped back and stripped down to his shirt sleeves, rolled them slow and deliberate.

“You’ve been lying to me, like a bad girl," he said.

Raven said nothing.

“I don’t like being lied to.”

Still nothing.

Jaxon reached for the crop. The sting of leather on thigh made her gasp, but it wasn’t cruel. It was measured. Deliberate. A pattern.

“You think this absolves you?” he asked, voice sharp. “You think I’ll let you bleed your guilt out on my sheets?”

Another strike. Then another. Her hips arched, half from pain, half from desperate need.

“I wanted you to be honest,” he said. “I gave you trust. I gave you control when you needed it.”

The next strike was harder. She bit back a cry.

“And you went behind my back.”

“I had to,” she breathed.

“Why?”

“Because…” She shook her head, tears welling. “Because if I told you, you’d try to protect me.”

His hand came to her jaw, tilting her face up. “And that’s wrong?”

“It’s weakness,” she choked. “I can’t afford weakness.”

His expression cracked. Just for a second. Just enough. “Is that what you think I am?”

“No.” She blinked hard. “You’re the only thing in my life that feels like strength right now.”

He dropped the crop. Stepped closer. His fingers curled around the collarbone that always made her breath hitch.

“Then tell me the truth.”

“I can’t.”

“Why?”

“Because I’ll lose you,” she whispered. “And I can’t lose myself or you.”

Her voice broke on the last word. Jaxon’s hands slid from her shoulders to her wrists, unfastening the cuffs slowly. She collapsed into his arms, breath ragged, body shaking from everything she hadn’t said. He held her without speaking. Without judgment. Just heat and steadiness.

When he finally spoke, it was a whisper against her temple. “You’re not going to lose me.”

But neither of them believed it. Not fully. Not anymore.