Chapter 9: The Satin Claw

“Sapphire!” Marcus’s voice cut through the noise from the bar. “Get her up there or get her the hell out. We don’t have all night.”

Sapphire’s grip tightened. Leaning in, her breath hot against my ear, she whispered, “Dance, or walk out that door and see how long you last. Your call.”

My legs buckled. The half-formed bond in my chest burned, and the thought of Xavier watching me strip for a room of creeps made me want to puke.

“Move those hips, as they owe you money,” Sapphire hissed, nudging me sharply.

The stage lights blinded me the second they hit—just this bright, harsh white. I froze. I could hear coins hitting the wooden table behind the glare; they weren’t betting on me winning, they were just waiting for me to mess up.

One last shove sent me stumbling onto the stage. “Dance, fresh meat. Or hit the door.”

The lights scorched my skin, and the bass thumped through the floorboards straight into my bare feet. For one long heartbeat, I just stood there, my pulse drumming in my ribs.

Play the game, I told myself.

I closed my eyes for a second, then just let my body take over.

The first few moves were clumsy. My hips jerked, my hands shook as they slid up my sides. These stupid borrowed shorts kept riding up. I arched my back the way Sapphire had shown me and tilted my head back, exposing my throat—that omega surrender pose that makes these men lose their minds.

The crowd went wild.

Cash started flying everywhere. Some alpha shoved a handful of bills into my waistband, letting his hand linger way longer than he should have. I bit my cheek until it bled, but I didn’t flinch. I just rolled my hips slower, letting that sweet, terrified scent wash off me in waves.

Inside my head, Ciel was screaming, but eventually, she stopped fighting. She got it.

We’re not prey tonight, I told her silently. I’m not putting you in danger, Ciel. We’re going to survive.

I dropped low, dragging my hands down my thighs before climbing back up. My torn hoodie slipped off one shoulder. Whistles and nasty comments filled the air.

Some men yelled that I was the “tastiest omega bitch” he’d seen in months.

But I kept moving.

I was shit at pole dancing, but they weren’t paying for talent. They wanted a shaking mess who looked like she was one second away from a breakdown, but would still open up as soon as the cash hit the table.

So, that’s what I gave them.

I arched my back, kept my mouth slightly open, and made sure my eyes looked scared enough to keep them hard.

When the song ended, my face was wet, but the stage was covered in money.

Sapphire yanked me off just as the next girl went on. She tossed me a water bottle with a nasty smirk. “Not bad for a virgin. Keep this up, and you might actually eat something besides cum tomorrow.”

I gripped the bottle like a lifeline, my legs shaking so badly I almost collapsed. The truth settled in my gut like a stone: this was survival now. I had to learn to play their sick game better than they did.

The noise didn’t stop when I left the spotlight, but as the sound hit me, I realized it wasn’t applause. It was laughter—drunken whistles. The sound predators make when they find a new toy to break. At that point, I couldn’t even tell the difference.

I was shaking all over. Despite the heat of the lights, the sweat on my skin felt ice cold. I wrapped my arms around myself, wishing the floor would just open up and swallow me.

Near the front, two men were arguing.

“Five hundred says she’s untouched,” one muttered.

“You’re blind,” the other replied. “Look at her. That’s not innocence; that’s just terror.”

“I’ll pay double if Marcus auctions her off.”

That word—auction—made my stomach twist.

We have to leave, Ciel whimpered.

I know, I answered. Tonight.

But knowing you need to leave and actually having a place to go are two very different things.

Sapphire was already crouching on the floor, scooping the bills into practiced piles and shoving them into a lockbox.

“Nice haul,” she muttered.

I stared at the money. “Those…”

“My tips?”

She let out a short laugh. “Cute.” She snapped the lid shut. “The house takes eighty percent. Marcus takes another cut for your room and board. You get whatever’s left.”

“How much is that?”

She shrugged. “Depends on how generous he’s feeling.”

Something inside me snapped. I had just humiliated myself in front of a room of strangers who looked at me like a piece of meat, and I still might not have enough for breakfast.

Marcus appeared beside the stage, counting the cash with thick fingers. “Not bad,” he said, scanning me. He wasn’t admiring me; he was calculating my price. “The sacred act sells.”

“I wasn’t acting,” I whispered.

He just grinned. “Even better.” He tucked the money into his jacket. “Tomorrow, put her in something tighter.”

My heart skipped. Tomorrow? No. This was supposed to be one time. Just until I had enough to get out.

Marcus looked at Sapphire. “Get her cleaned up. She’s back on at midnight.”

The world felt like it was tilting. “I can’t.”

Marcus didn’t even look at me. “You can.”

“My legs are shaking…”

“They’ll work.”

“My feet are bleeding,” I choked out.

“They’ll heal.”

“I said I can’t!”

That got his attention. The smile vanished. “You think you have a choice here?”

“You sleep under my roof,” he said, stepping closer. “You eat my food. You wear my clothes.” His voice dropped, sounding almost conversational. “So, you’re going to make me my money.”

He turned to walk away before I could even try to answer. “Unless, of course, you’d rather I toss you back outside.”

Outside. The alley. The freezing rain. The men who had followed me—the ones who still made me wake up screaming.

My knees gave out. Marcus already knew the answer. Everyone did.

Sapphire nudged my shoulder. “Welcome to the club, sweetheart.”