4 Clock Club Novels & Stories

The next morning, Vivian arrived at my place, her car packed with two folded bicycles in the trunk. "The ride's a bit far. You can nap on the way, and I'll wake you when we're there," she said. Considering I'd hardly slept, replaying Vivian's words in my mind, I gladly took her advice and drifted off. I had no idea how long I slept, but when Vivian shook me awake, I found myself in a remote area surrounded by lush greenery. "We're here! The club's founder booked out this entire mountain. It's secluded, so we can let loose as much as we want," she said with a mischievous grin.

she replies cryptically, smirking as if amused by her secrecy. Adrianna's curiosity is piqued, but before she can press further, one of Victoria's friends, a slim, brunette, leans in eager to fill the silence with gossip. “You know,” she begins conspiratorially, “this club has its reputation. Rumor has it, it was built four years ago. Only the rich have access.” “It's not rare, here in Los Angeles,” Adrianna tells her, her face slightly unimpressed. She fills half of her glass with whisky and gulps it down to calm her nerves.

Shadow nodded, wiped his nose against the back of his wrist, and went to the fridge in search of a beer. Something was not right, Raven agreed with Shadow’s assessment. It was Friday, five o’clock. Sex club night. It should be a time for sexy making, not Shadow crying in the kitchen. Was it that Gregory Holmsworth was kicking off, or what? He opened the bedroom door.

"Maybe another time, Candy. Right now, I’ve got drinks to serve." "Suit yourself, gorgeous," she purrs, winking as she walks away, her hips swaying in a way that makes every man in the room turn their head. "But if you ever want to see how much a knotting really costs, you know where to find me." The club opens officially at seven, and the floodgates break. It’s a blur of leather, denim, and the smell of stale beer. I’m moving, weaving through the crowded tables, taking orders, dodging wandering hands with a sharp glare that says don't fucking touch. I’m getting the hang of it, the sound of the chaos, until I see Rikky.

He thought the little boy was going to be awake on seeing the girls demonstrating on stage, to his greatest surprise it didn't budge. I hope it's alive. Marley sighed and glanced at his watch with squinted eyes. Damn lights! They were straining his eyes yet again but he managed to figure out the digits anyway. Thirty minutes into midnight. It read. Drinking had gotten boring, the entertainment wasn't helping matters either. All in all, he crowned the club a no go zone. "I ought to get out of here," he whispered to Josh who was being entertained with a bimbo on his legs.

And then I remembered. The club. I had gone there, ages ago, before any of this happened. I had seen him there, and everyone treated him like royalty. He owned the place. I just needed to remember the name. I paced. I thought. I went through every memory of every club night I'd ever had. And then it hit me. The Den. The club opened at eight PM. I still had hours to kill. I drove to The Den at exactly eight-fifteen. The place was already filling up, bass thumping through the walls, neon lights flickering in the dark.

The apartment door remained open. Rain drifted through the hallway in the cool morning air. James turned the brass pocket watch over in his hand. No engraving. No manufacturer’s mark. Just worn brass… …and frozen hands pointing to 4:17. Charlotte unfolded the note again. The Fourth Door opens at 4:17. Don’t be late. She read it twice. Then a third time. “It doesn’t say morning.” Darrien looked at the wall clock. “It doesn’t have to.”

The location that he sent was twenty minutes ride from my apartment of some club, I put the address on gsp and drove my car on the roads of New York. 'New york the city that never sleep' The phrase is rooted in the hustle and bustle of the city, which seems to go on 24/7. There are lots of after hours clubs that don't really get going until after midnight. I never liked going to the club because loud music and crowded places never suited me. As I reach the club I saw my brother carrying drunkard best friend to the back seat of my car to settle her and sit on the passenger seat with a sign.

Twenty-Four Years Ago – The Ouroboros Sanctum Young Malachi stood in the center of the floor, his boots clicking against the polished stone. Above him, the Elders sat in a semi-circle, their gold serpent masks reflecting the torchlight. In the corner, a massive brass clock ticked with a heavy, metallic thud. It skipped like a dying heartbeat.