Claimed by my Brother’s Best Friends (Alyssa) novel Chapter 43

King

After meeting Gray at the clubhouse and confirming my prey's location, I pull up in front of "The Pink Dollhouse" in one of the club's cars. It's a black sedan with fake plates, something that doesn't draw attention and is easy to dispose of if needed.

I step out of the car, adjusting the cuffs of my black suit as I take in the building. The neon lights flicker, casting a lurid glow over the entrance, where a stream of men line in, their faces full of anticipation and something darker. It's that time of night when the strip club starts coming to life, deprived bastards crawling in to see pussy they'll never be able to touch.

Inside, I access my surroundings, taking in everything in a split second. The exits, the dark corners, the places I can get the job done without anyone noticing. I'm not here to soak up the sleaze or get lost in the spectacle. The quicker I handle business, the sooner I can get home to my little kitten.

The club is dimly lit, the air thick with the smell of cheap perfume, sweat, and alcohol. Strobe lights flicker over the stage, where strippers dance provocatively to "Sugar" by Sleep Token. The beat is slow, sultry, and the crowd is lapping it up like pigs at a trough.

As loud as the music is, no one will hear his screams.

Perfect.

Our clientele is vast, but most of them aren't stupid enough to miss their payments. They know Gray doesn't fuck around, and when they do, they know he's more than happy to send me out to do the dirty work.

After grabbing a drink, I spot Albert across the room. He's hard to miss, the way he's throwing money around like the slimy businessman he is, stuffing bills into the G-string of a stripper. A group of men in expensive suits are seated with him, their laughter loud and obnoxious, echoing in the room as if they fucking own the place. Their arrogance is palpable, almost as nauseating as the stench of this place.