B Madron Novels & Stories

I kept his eyes off my mind, refusing to look at the man’s face, refusing to let him see the cold, hard rage hiding behind Luna’s mask. Outside, Mateo walked calmly into the main floor of Club Máscara. He had driven his Audi sports coupe through the narrow streets of Madrid, but his demeanor remained entirely composed. He hadn't bothered to put on the velvet mask provided at the entrance. He walked in with his bare face exposed, his sharp jawline relaxed, and his dark eyes observing the room with a quiet, patient focus.

Before I could turn towards his direction, the voice of the lady I now know her name to be Matilda, suddenly interrupted me. "Oh dear, my apologies." She said sweetly, stepping forward. "Didn't realize I was making you uncomfortable." I could now clearly see her face as she turned directly to me. She was pretty, like, badass pretty. Her loose black cargo pants hung low on her hips, chains clinking with every movement. A cropped band tee clung to her, showing the glint of a silver bar through her navel. Her blonde hair was messy, choppy cut — on purpose — and her ears was lined with tiny hoops and spikes climbing all the way up to the cartilage. Her tats crawled along her bare arms, disappear

she said, her voice soothing yet filled with an air of mystery. We took our seats around a small, round table draped in a deep purple cloth. Madame Zara began by reading our palms, her fingers tracing the lines with practiced precision. When she reached me, she paused, her expression turning serious. "Are you facing some financial trouble?" she asked. I nodded my head, feeling a chill run down my spine. "And so you have decided to participate in some event to earn money to solve it, right?" Madame Zara continued. I nodded again, my heart pounding.

“Saturday. I’ll make the arrangements.” “Perfect,” Mason said. “And Alex, don’t let this eat at you. Ricardo thrives on fear. Stay focused.” “I’ll try,” I replied. As the call ended, I sat in the silence again, my thoughts still racing. Michael’s reassurance and Mason’s confidence gave me a sliver of hope, but the worry remained. Ricardo was a storm brewing on the horizon, and I didn’t know how hard he’d hit when he finally struck. When I finally climbed into bed, Brie was already asleep. Her breathing was slow and even, her body curled up beneath the covers. She looked so peaceful, completely unaware of the storm brewing outside our world.