Chapter Sixteen-The Public Defiance

9PM The Void Club

Khaid’s routine on a non-mission night was clockwork. At 9:00 PM, he would arrive at The Void Club, a venue he partially owned, using it as a discrete command center and social surveillance hub. This time, he didn't enter as the bubbly life of the party. He entered through a private service entrance, bypassing the main crowd, and went directly to his secluded booth overlooking the main floor. The club was a dizzying blend of flashing lights, expensive clientele, and heavy, pulsating electronic music.

He settled in, the usual cold detachment settling over him as he surveyed the room. A king observing his temporary kingdom. Kael was positioned discreetly near the entrance.

Khaid was mid-sentence, reviewing a market analysis Kael had handed him, when his eyes snagged on a figure near the VIP bar. The figure was small, navigating the crowd with a practiced ease, stopping at tables and leaning in to whisper conspiratorially. It was Bluey.

She wasn't dressed in the pale tunics of his West Wing. She wore a simple, striking black dress. One he recognized as the 'stained rag' she had worn upon her collapse. She looked vibrant, alive, and utterly out of place in his sterile narrative for her. She was holding a small, silver tray displaying her vials, laughing with a group of businessmen. She was brazenly selling her aphrodisiacs, right under his nose, on his property.

The blood went cold in Khaid's veins. This was more than disobedience. This was a public act of defiance. It compromised his entire arrangement with her. He had granted her shelter under the condition of silence and invisibility. She was instead selling the very product that had dragged her into his war.

Khaid stood up so fast the table rattled. He didn't shout. His voice was a chilling, absolute command directed at Kael, whose eyes were already locked on the same spot.

“Retrieve her. Now. Do not attract attention. Get her into the car.”

Kael moved instantly, cutting through the crowd like a knife through water. Within ninety seconds, he was back, practically carrying a struggling, furious Satera by the elbow. “Let me go. You're hurting me” Bluey protested. Kael turned deaf ears. He didn't release her until she got to the car. When Bluey saw Khaid's furious countenance, she said nothing. Khaid didn't wait for the private elevator. He marched Bluey out through the nearest fire exit and shoved her into the back of his waiting black sedan. He climbed in beside her, slamming the door shut.

The drive back to Lot 27 was conducted in a dense, suffocating silence. The tension between them was a palpable, dangerous entity hanging in the air, heavier than the city smog. Satera stared fixedly out the window, her jaw set, the residual defiance from the club clinging to her like cheap perfume. Khaid stared ahead, his profile rigid, every nerve ending screaming at the catastrophic breach of his control.

The moment the car pulled into the underground garage of Lot 27, Bluey erupted. She didn't wait for him to open the door. She flung it open and marched ahead of him into the main residence.

“What in the hell were you doing?” Khaid demanded, his voice finally breaking the cold silence, echoing off the high ceiling of the foyer. The carefully constructed wall of his composure was crumbling.

Bluey spun around, her eyes blazing, the fire of her old life reignited by the familiar thrill of the club and the infuriating proximity of her captor.

“I was running my business, Khaid!” she retorted, spitting his name out with venom.

“The business I have been running for the last two years! The business that pays for my life! What did you think? That I would sit in your gilded cage and embroider cushions for two months?”

Khaid took two menacing steps toward her. “You are an asset under my protection! You are in my house and under my wings! You were broadcasting your presence, advertising your product, and compromising the entire security of this compound!”

“Oh, please” she scoffed, making a dismissive gesture. “My security? Or your control? I didn't see anyone following me, Khaid. I was just selling my product, as I always do. The minute I stop producing, I stop existing. I don't get 'stipends,' I earn my keep!”

“Your life is my expense now!” Khaid roared, his voice cold with absolute fury. “You will not step foot in that club again. You will work from the West Wing, and you will only go out when I approve it. This is not up for negotiation! It is a security measure!”

Bluey took a step forward, meeting his gaze with unyielding defiance, a dangerous act against a man whose greatest fear was lack of control.

“You can give me clothes and black cards, but you don't own my legs, and you don't own my livelihood!” she declared, the words ringing with genuine anger. “I need to feel like I'm earning my keep. I will never stop going to that club. It's the only place I feel real. I am not going back to that hostage life. I won't be tied down by a man, again. Never again!”

Without waiting for his response, she whirled around and stormed out of the foyer with tears streaming down her cheeks, leaving Khaid standing alone and shaking with the raw, unfamiliar sting of someone who had just been defied to his face.

“Kael”

“Yes boss” Kael, who was at standby, responded diligently.

“Get me a bitch and bring her to the tea room” He commanded and started walking towards his room. “That feisty thing don't listen”

★

“You don't get to leave this place, you weak thing”

“Why did you go out? Seeing the sun is a luxury you can't afford”

“Rotten thing”

Those words filtered and echoed into Bluey's head as she got to her room. Her eyes were a blurry mess of tears and phlegm. Khaid's control is toggling a painful memory and she has no control over it. She is not healed yet. She managed to walk to her bed but she crouched in a heap and wept bitterly.

“God, this is a trigger I do not want. I want this pain to go away. I want the memories to go. I don't want to remember anything again. Teach this mind to abide or let this body rot and die.” The tears streamed down in torrents. Her body was a shaking mess and her temperature increased with each wail.

“I'm not a hostage. I'm not a captive. I'm free. I am free. As free as a bird. As free and limitless as an eagle. I am not a captive” She continued with the affirmation even in her weak state. Her breathing was getting stable again.

“I refuse to be a captive. I am free” She asserted boldly.