To survive in a world full of chaos, one must learn to embrace it.
It was hard— Callie knew that awfully well. She lived in a city where guns were easier to acquire than medicine, and where violence was the answer to everything. A place that the government has forgotten about and where the police worked for infamous crime lords.
To survive amid chaos was hard, and Callie was only barely able to hold her head above water. And with each passing day, she feels herself sinking further and further, deeper into the filth.
“Ugh, can you believe this?” Sienna asked with a sigh. She and Callie have been friends since they were teens. Now, they go to the same community college where the bulletin boards are riddled with dozens of warnings, curfew notices, and missing person posters. “You would think living so far away from the Ashen City would protect us from the scum that live there—” Sienna shook her head in disbelief. “But no, we still live in a nightmare.”
Callie looked away from her beautiful friend, whose blonde hair she had envied for a long while. “It’s not so bad,” she said. “I mean, it’s been pretty mellow these days.”
“Not so bad?” Sienna asked in disbelief, whipping her perfectly styled blonde hair around to face Callie fully. “Callie, people have gone missing, and you work as a courtesan servicing those scum I just mentioned. I don’t say this to belittle your work or anything, you know I love you. It’s just that—”
“You don’t approve of my clients.” Callie smiled softly at her friend, before tilting her head endearingly, her luscious chestnut-colored hair swaying with the action. She knew Sienna was only worried. “I don’t like them either, but they’re tolerable, and they’re paying for my education, thus if not for them, I wouldn’t have met you.”
Callie never resented her work or her Uncle Jimmy, who owned the brothel slash club, Euphoria. He took nine-year-old Callie in when her parents died in a tragic car accident, fifteen years ago, the same year of The Great Burning. Sure, the man was a sleazy old businessman, but he loved Callie’s dad in his own way, so he couldn’t give Callie up.
He was a shit father figure, but he provided for Callie’s basic needs. Once Callie was old enough to bus tables, he made her work at the club. It wasn’t until Callie was thirteen that she decided she wanted to work as a singer. Then, fast-forward six years later, Callie wanted to go to college. She would never have been able to afford it if she didn’t work as a courtesan.
Nobody ever forced her to sleep with men for money, Callie did it to survive and further her education. In these dark times, a woman must learn to survive. And what Callie needed most was a way to escape this rotting place.
Sienna sighed and reached for her friend’s arm, giving it a little squeeze. “You make a great point.” Sienna slides her hand down Callie’s arm to hold her hand. “Still, be careful, okay? I worry about you. And I don’t trust your uncle. No offense.”
Callie giggled, amused at Sienna’s expression. “I’ll be fine. Thank you, Sienna.”
“Love you. I’ll see you tomorrow,” Sienna replied, letting go of Callie’s hand before heading in the opposite direction. “Don’t forget to buy our tickets for the senior party at the club next week! We may live in bleak times, but we deserve some fun!”
“Love you too, take care!” Callie waves goodbye now left alone among the dozens of pairs of eyes staring at her from the countless wanted posters on the board.
“Why bother printing these when the police have the mafia lining their pockets?” Callie muttered to herself, annoyed at how shitty the authorities were handling these cases.
Several people have gone missing in the past week, some of them were Callie’s classmates. Though she tried to sound optimistic for Sienna earlier, Callie knew that things were looking bad for all of them living near the Ashen City.
It has been fifteen years since the Great Burning took place in the middle of the city of Santa Barbara. No one knows precisely what happened that fated day. Some say it was an accident, while some say it was done by terrorists. But there’s one story people believe the most—the one where a man burned the city for revenge. Parents started to use it to scare children who liked to stay out late, saying a dragon would descend from the skies to burn and punish them.
Since then, the city was renamed the Ashen City after what was left. Hundreds died during the fire and every year, families would light candles around the perimeter of the city to honor those who died. But even then, the city and the surrounding areas became a hotspot for criminal activities. Some managed to flee, but not everyone could afford it. And those that remained, learned to live in dire circumstances.
With a sigh, Callie adjusted her backpack and starts to head home, her mind swimming with worry.
It usually took Callie twenty minutes to walk back home from school, but today she felt as if something was dragging her feet to go slower. But Callie knew she couldn’t be late, she had a client coming in tonight.
The apartment that Callie and her uncle live in wasn’t in the best neighborhood, so Callie didn’t think much of it when she bumps into a heavy wall of a man. There were no thoughts in Callie’s mind even as she falls to the ground, overcome with fear. She doesn’t even bother fixing her white dress when it rode up to the tops of her thighs.
“I’m so sorry,” said Callie. Striking blue eyes met her brown ones, and she immediately lowered her head to show submission. She proceeded to apologize profusely when she noticed the man dropped his cigarette. “Please don’t hurt me. I’m sorry, I’ll pay for it.” Though she knew the brand might be worth more than what she earned in a week, Callie offered anyway.
Heart pounding, Callie braced herself for a strike that might come.
“I won’t hurt you. Don’t worry about it,” the man said, surprising Callie with his deep, rich voice. The stranger walked past Callie, leaving a trail of a delicious scent that could only belong to someone who dripped money. But there was something about that man when he spoke that instantly sent shivers up Callie’s spine.
Still shaking, Callie dared to sneak a peek of the stranger, only to see him get inside a pitch-black McLaren GT.
“Right. Definitely not from around here,” Callie whispered to herself as she watched the mysterious man drive away. She didn’t know who the man was, but she could take a wild guess and wonder who among her neighbors got involved with a loan shark.
But the moment Callie entered their apartment complex building, she knew something was wrong. It was awfully quiet on their floor, which was unusual given the families living there with their noisy kids. But it was silent as death save for the sudden bang of a gunshot coming from their unit followed by a pained scream.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
Callie’s panicked thoughts jump back to the man she bumped into. “Did he come from my house?” she muttered to herself, but wondering was useless. It was obvious there was still somebody inside.
Without another thought, Callie fishes her phone from her pocket in one hand and dialed 9-1-1, and with the other, she pushed the door further.
Callie carefully entered the apartment. She reached into her backpack for a small can of pepper spray she kept for emergencies such as this one.
‘9-1-1, what’s your emergency?’
“Someone broke into our house,” said Callie, then without waiting for the operator proceeded to tell them her address. “Please send help quickly. My uncle is inside, and I think I heard a gunshot.”
‘Help is on the way, ma’am. Stay away from the apartment for now. Find somewhere safe to hide until the police arrive—’
“What the?” a man’s voice called out, and Callie immediately aimed the can and sprayed the stranger in his eyes. The assailant jumped back, screaming in pain. That was when another man popped out to check what was going on.
‘Ma’am? What’s going on? Ma’am?’
The second man, taller and meaner-looking than the one Callie just sprayed, stared at the phone in her hand before he shook his head and clicked his tongue. His eyes were gray and stared at her with a promise of death if he didn't get what he wanted. Callie felt her legs shake as he opened his mouth to speak.
“You called the cops?” he asked, disappointment evident in his voice, but something shone in his eyes akin to excitement. “That won’t do.”
Callie couldn’t react in time. Within the next second, the man had snatched the phone away, throwing it against the far wall, crushing it into pieces. It was over before Callie could process what had happened. Before she knew it, she was pulled and dragged further inside.
“Who the hell are you people?” Callie screamed as she struggled against the man’s iron grip. “Let me go!”
The gray-eyed man complied, throwing Callie forcefully to the floor. She yelped in pain when she landed on her wrist, trying to soften her landing. Tears threatened to spill over and through Callie’s blurred eyesight, she saw the horror surrounding her.
Blood splatters decorated the kitchen floor as if someone had coughed up blood and saliva, puking all over the floor. The splatters continued across the kitchen until her eyes found the unmoving lump of flesh leaning heavily onto the dining table for support. It was her uncle, bloody and barely breathing from what Callie assumed was a heavy beating.
Injured wrist forgotten, Callie pushed up from the floor, “No! Uncle—” only to be stopped by the man shoving her back down to the floor.
He clicked his tongue and pushed her back down. His next words tuned Callie’s blood to ice. “Sit down, pretty. I’m not done with dear old, Jimmy here. Be patient, dear. Then, you’ll have your turn.”
Callie stared in open horror as the gray-eyed man brought a glass of water over from the sink before pouring it all over her uncle’s unconscious form. The coldness jolted him awake with a shriek of pain, undoubtedly from the many sores and open wounds he had sustained. “Stop! Who are you?! What do you want?” Callie yelled in hopes of distracting the men who invaded their home. Three of them, she counted, including the one who took pepper spray to the face. The man holding the glass stood up straight and cleared his throat before he wiped his bloodied hands across the front of his shirt. “Pardon me,” he said before making a grand gesture of bowing to her. “Well, I’m Soren, and these are my colleagues.” It was the way the man called Soren spoke that told Callie something was off about him. There’s a playful tone in his voice every time he speaks as if nothing ever fazes him, treating everything like a joke. His movements are big and satiric, but he showed no sign of weakness. With bi
Soren let out an unhinged chuckle at Callie’s remark. As a debt collector for the mafia, he must have seen dozens of different reactions to the mention of Vincent Baros, but he somehow found Callie’s reaction the most fitting. “I knew I liked you. Sit tight.” He didn’t need to force Callie inside the waiting vehicle, she went without resistance. Soren followed inside. With only the two of them sitting in the spacious backseat, Callie sat as far away from Soren as she could. Callie didn’t know what to expect once the car started driving toward the Ashen City. She had only heard rumors about it, and some stories from her university buddies who have dared to sneak inside for a peep at what life in the city was like. All their stories were horrifying. For the first few miles, after the car drove past the border, Callie felt the anxiety grow in her chest. The place was extremely gray. Most of the buildings they passed were either destroyed or unlivable. And though the ashes from the gre
Never in her life had Callie felt so small as she did in the presence of the mafia boss. Vincent Baros radiated an aura that told her to run away. He was exactly like the stories; tall and proud, with eyes slightly slanted, giving him a menacing countenance. He smelled nice, of cedar and rosewood, effectively cleansing Callie’s nose from the heavy scents of cigarettes and sweat that reeked around the club. The club halted all operations once Vin entered the scene. The music was turned down to a dull pump, and the people had started to back away from the commotion. The mafia boss looked down on Callie, frozen in his hold. He watched as her eyes dilate from what he assumed was fear. Callie’s legs shook as Vin took most of her weight, keeping her from falling. Without letting the woman go, Vin directed his attention at the three men he caught touching her, zeroing in on the man with a half-hard cock hanging out of his pants. He must be high out of his mind. “Attempted rape in my club?
Callie barely registered the pain as her nails dug deeper into her forearm. Nothing registered anymore. Not the noise in the club, not the stench of blood, and not Vin’s voice that told her to stop. As soon as Vin noticed, his hand came lashing out to grab Callie’s to pry her hand away from herself. “Stop doing that,” the mafia boss barked out, but Callie only looked at him through her tear-filled eyes. It was like Callie was possessed as she struggled in Vin’s hold with nothing but pure adrenaline. Pained screams left her mouth when Vin accidentally gripped her injured wrist too tightly. Suddenly there was a sharp jab against her neck and Callie was out like a light. Panic filled Vin’s eyes as he watched the life drain out of Callie’s eyes. “What the fuck?” Vin was surprised, but he managed to catch Callie before she could fall to the floor. Behind her, Soren stood holding up a syringe muttering, “Sedative.” As if no other explanations were needed. Vin looked disgusted– offended
The air pressure in the room seemed to drop because Callie found herself having trouble breathing. With Vin’s face so close to hers muttering those dangerous words, Callie was starting to realize how much trouble she was in. True, Vin saved her life, but he did it at the cost of three others. Any man who can pull a trigger without remorse is someone to be feared. “Follow me,” Vin said before grabbing the discarded black jacket from the floor and throwing it to Callie. Quickly putting the jacket on, Callie followed him deeper into the apartment. With her heart hammering in her chest, Callie could barely appreciate the luxury that was Vin’s apartment. The large space must be filled with nothing but furniture and accessories from designer brands. When they got to what appeared to be the kitchen, Callie’s eyes zeroed in on a gorgeous blonde woman who seemed to be waiting for them. She was tall, maybe five-foot-nine, with perfect porcelain skin. She wore her hair in a low ponytail with
Vin was minding his business, scanning through yet another missing person’s case that landed on his desk, when Ella burst into his office. “Don’t hurt her.” The mafia boss looked up from the document and fixed the doctor with a hard stare. And when he spoke, there was a dangerous edge to his voice. “Ella, you know better than to barge in here unannounced.” Ella was used to being reprimanded. She wasn’t the type to bend to anyone’s will outside of the bedroom, so in this case, she wanted Vin to hear her. “I’m sorry,” she apologized, anyway. “I’ll take any punishment for speaking out about this. I know it’s not my business what you do with your women, but please don’t hurt Callie.” Vin didn’t plan on hurting her. He wouldn’t hurt a woman. But having Ella stand up for her, made him all the more curious about his new little pet. Shifting from foot to foot, Ella started becoming uneasy under Vin’s piercing gaze. “That’s all I came here to say. Oh, also! I know you like it rough in th
The knock on his office door came earlier than Vin expected. The heavy wooden door opened and Callie walked in barefoot. She was still wearing Vin’s shirt that Ella had found in his closet the night before. She was a petite thing with innocent and delicate facial features. Soren told him she was twenty-four, but Vin would believe it if she said she was eighteen. Vin’s shirt looked big on her, but she carried it well and the shirt couldn’t conceal the curves of that delectable body underneath. “Come closer,” said Vin as he watched Callie awkwardly take in his extremely minimalist office. There was almost nothing in there apart from his mahogany office table and chair combo and some bookshelves. “Look at me.” Careful brown eyes met his blue ones, and something about Callie’s vulnerability and innocence made Vin’s dick twitch in his pants. And she was beautiful, no question about that. Not even the pinkish swell of her cheek could mar her beauty. “Callie Moore.” It was the name Vin sa
In the end, it was Vin who chose Callie’s outfit after she appeared in dark jeans, cropped tee, and a dark denim jacket. Vin shook his head in disappointment before he dragged her back into her room to change into a sleek black mini dress. He was careful to choose a dress that covered her injured arms, but the dip on the front hung low, exposing the tops of her ample breasts. And with the dress reaching only the tops of her thighs, Callie had to pull on the hem every now and then. Soren met them at the front of a club called, “The Tomb?” asked Callie, curious about the bright neon sign. A flash of annoyance crossed Vin’s features, before he replied defensively, “I didn’t name it. People started calling it that and it stuck.” Soren sidled up to Callie when Vin walked ahead to talk to one of the bouncers. “It’s called The Tomb because people have been buried here,” explained Soren in a low voice, careful not to be heard by the mafia boss. “Both figuratively and literally, I might ad