Chapter 4: Into the Den
1215 Words
The Serpent’s Den was nothing like I’d imagined. There was no grimy warehouse, no back-alley hideout. The SUV rolled through imposing wrought-iron gates into a compound that was part fortress, part modern mansion—three stories of dark brick and steel that looked like it could withstand a siege.
“Home sweet home,” Maddox announced as we climbed out, his tone laced with dark pride.
I stared up at the intimidating structure. “This is your clubhouse? It looks like a villain’s lair from a movie.”
Jaxon let out a short laugh. “What does that make us, then? The bad guys?”
I met his golden stare. “Are you?”
The air went still. All three of them—Jaxon, Ronan, Maddox—paused, their expressions becoming unreadable masks.
“That,” Ronan said finally, his voice smooth as silk, “depends entirely on whose side you’re on.”
My phone buzzed, the screen flashing a name that sent a jolt of panic through me. Dad.
“I have to get that—”
“Not yet.” Jaxon’s hand closed over mine, his touch surprisingly gentle as he took the phone. “We need to know what we’re walking into first.”
“If I don’t answer, he’ll send out a national alert.”
“He already has,” Ronan said, glancing at his own device. “Three squad cars are at Millennium Park. They found your security detail and a few… incapacitated Vultures.”
My stomach twisted. “Thompson—is he okay?”
“He has a concussion. He’ll live. The Vultures won’t be talking.” The finality in Ronan’s voice told me not to ask for details.
—
The inside of the compound was just as striking—polished concrete floors, exposed brick walls, modern art that probably cost more than my car. But it wasn’t the expensive decor that had my heart racing. It was the men. Dozens of them, lounging in doorways and leaning against walls, their eyes tracking my every move like I was a new specimen in a zoo.
“They’re all staring,” I muttered under my breath.
“Of course they are,” Maddox said, his hand settling on the small of my back in a gesture that felt both protective and possessive. “You’re the shiny new toy. So don’t flinch. Don’t look away. Prey runs. You walk.”
“I’m not prey.”
“Then prove it.”
Ronan led us into a medical room that looked more like a surgical ward than a first-aid station. “Sit,” he instructed, pointing to an examination table.
I hopped up, and he stepped smoothly between my knees, tilting my chin to inspect my split lip. His emerald eyes were intent, his thumb brushing the wound with a clinical precision that should have felt cold, but somehow didn’t. When his touch lingered a second too long, my breath caught. His gaze darkened in response.
“We’ve got a more pressing issue,” Jaxon interrupted, holding up my still-vibrating phone.
Ronan stepped back, a flicker of reluctance in his movement. “What will you tell him?”
Before I could form an answer, a new text from the unknown number lit up the screen: Check your car, princess. We left you a present.
Ice water flooded my veins. It was the same number that had lured me into the park.
“What is it?” Ronan asked, reading the alarm on my face.
I showed him the message. Jaxon was already pulling up a live security feed on a tablet. “Where’s your car?”
“The secured garage under my father’s building.”
The grainy feed showed my silver BMW, a manila envelope tucked under the windshield wiper.
“We have to get that,” I said, panic rising.
“No,” all three men said in unison.
“Photos,” Ronan stated grimly. “From the Inferno, most likely. Clear shots of you with us.”
The reality of it hit me like a physical blow. Evidence of me kissing Jaxon through the cage, of me in that alley with three of Chicago’s most wanted. “My father can’t ever see those.”
“Why?” Jaxon’s voice was sharp. “Worried you’ll tarnish his perfect little image?”
“It would end his career. He’s up for promotion to Superintendent.”
“And you care about his career, why?” Maddox leaned in, his breath warm against my ear.
“Because he’s my father.”
“Your father’s hands are no cleaner than ours, Alina,” Ronan said coolly. “He just hides the dirt better.”
Another buzz. One hour, princess. Or these photos go to every news desk in the city. Come alone. – Viktor Kozlov.
“Viktor Kozlov,” Ronan identified without missing a beat. “Vulture enforcer. He enjoys making things… personal.”
My phone rang again. Dad. This time, I swiped to answer before anyone could stop me.
“Alina, thank God.” His voice was tight, a mix of fear and fury. “Where are you?”
“I’m safe, Dad.”
“Safe where? The park is a crime scene, men are in the hospital, and my daughter is missing!”
“I can’t come home. Not right now.”
“What does that mean?” His tone turned to steel. “You will come home. Now. We will discuss everything. Including the photographs.”
My blood ran cold. “You know about the photos?”
“I know more than you think, sweetheart. Things you need to hear.”
“Then tell me now.”
“Not over the phone. You need to come home.” I ended the call, my hands trembling.
I looked at the three men surrounding me.
“He knows about the photos.”
“So what’s it going to be?” Jaxon asked, stepping so close I could feel the heat radiating from him. “His lies, or our truth?”
“Belonging isn’t a cage, Alina,” Ronan added, his voice low. “It’s armor. It’s safety in numbers.”
Maddox’s lips brushed the sensitive skin of my neck, making me shiver. “Three protectors. Three kings guarding their queen. It’s not a bad deal, beautiful.”
But as I looked at their fierce, expectant faces, a sliver of doubt wedged itself in my mind. Was I truly choosing them, or was I just running from the suffocating lies of my old life?
“So? Walk into Viktor’s trap, or stay here?”
“I stay,” I said, the word feeling heavy and final. “But what happens now?”
“Now,” Ronan said, gesturing toward the sound of booming voices deeper in the compound, “you face the club. Full membership decides on… unique circumstances.”
“And I’m a unique circumstance.”
“Princess,” Maddox grinned, “you’re the most unique circumstance we’ve had in a decade.”
“They’re going to vote on whether I can stay?” I asked, my voice tighter than I intended.
“They’re going to meet you,” Maddox corrected smoothly. “What they decide after that… well, that’s largely up to you.”
- Writer
