I slip the earpiece out of my ear, stuff it in my inner suit jacket, and then make my way up to the entrance.

The outside of the building is like any other high-priced strip club—a marble black monstrosity that drips money and power. The security guard standing outside of the doors gives me a once-over, before putting me through the customary what’s your name and let me check your asshole. Cough once.

Unlike Detective Fingers, this one actually manages to keep his hands in the safe zone and lets me through without a hitch.

For obvious reasons, I’m not permitted to carry firearms on me. But that won’t be an issue.

After Mark confessed the location, several of my men were able to infiltrate the security detail hired for this club.

Powerful men and women certainly wouldn’t be showing up to kill children if they didn’t feel protected while doing so.

Security is required to carry firearms, and I have it on good authority that some of them might let me borrow a gun or two when the time comes.

Just like when I was here last time, when I walk into the club, it feels like walking through a portal to hell. It's stifling in here, the air so full of depravity and sickness that it's a physical weight on my shoulders.

Jesus fucking Christ.

I feel like I need a goddamn gas mask.

I walk directly into the main area, the massive layout an open concept. It's dimly lit and ominous—the perfect place to hide in the shadows without being noticed.

The floors are black marble, and unlike the seedy strip clubs downtown, these floors shine as brightly as my freshly polished shoes. The blood red walls are bare of creepy art, but plenty of creeps occupy the booths and tables surrounding the stage. A woman swings around the pole, shaking her ass to the beat while money is thrown on the stage.

Low music pumps through the speakers, though not so loud that I can hardly hear myself think. Loud moans ring out from somewhere down a hallway, and I make sure to stay far away for now. If I go back and see some fucked up shit happening, I'm going to blow the entire thing.

"For a second, I thought you weren't going to show up," a voice says from behind me.

I turn to see Dan standing there, peering at me with a satisfied grin on his face.

"A man can't enjoy some strippers after getting arrested?" I retort, my tone laced with dry amusement. Dan laughs and shakes his head, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

"I still can't believe that happened. I am so sorry. Every man on my lawn got fired that night, I assure you."

I flash my teeth. "I expected nothing less. What charges did they try to pin on you?"

"Fucking drug smuggling," he scoffs in that can you believe that shit way. "I haven't had a line of coke up my nose in months, and it sure as shit wasn't my product."

I quirk a brow. "What happened to the girl?"

His face darkens, and for the first time, I see true evilness reflecting back at me. I knew it was there, residing just below the surface. But this is the first time Dan truly let that hateful demon out.

"I believe one of my guests took advantage of the chaos and stole her for themselves.”

“The cameras?” I push.

He shakes his head and spits, “Fucking ruined. The FBI must’ve done something to mess with the signal when they came. Probably because they weren’t authorized to kick down my goddamn door. Regardless, the little girl is gone, and ninety-thousand dollars went down the drain.”

My displeasure is prominent as I say, "Do you have any idea who it was? I would love to talk to them about stealing from me."

A smirk forms on his face. "As soon as I have confirmation, I will let you know. Otherwise, keep the beast contained." He pats my chest and motions towards an empty booth. "Let's have a drink. The ceremony won't start for a few hours."

"Lead the way."

"So, my wife said that she's going to leave, right? I told her there isn't a goddamn inch that exists in this world where she could hide, and I couldn't find her." He finishes his statement with a huff and shake of his head, boggled that his wife would even try to find a happy life somewhere else.

Somewhere that doesn’t involve eating children for dinner. And whatever else sick shit they do to them in the meantime.

"Women like to run, but they like to be caught even more," I murmur.

He looks at me, a wicked grin curling his lips. "Exactly, man. Too bad the bitch isn't worth chasing. So by the time I catch her, she's going to wish she did find that inch. You know how exhausting it is to be married to someone who doesn't share the same tastes as you? I've tried to initiate her several times, but she refuses. Can you believe that?"

How does someone with a shred of decency even answer that?

You don't.

I shake my head casually, taking a sip of my whiskey. Addie's grandfather has better taste than these old dicklickers.

Glancing at his Rolex, he motions for me to follow as he stands. "It's time. Let’s head on down," Dan says, swallowing the last of his whiskey before setting the empty crystal glass on the table. He turns and checks out a passing stripper, his eyes leering on her exposed backside.

"And when we're done, I'm going to take a bite out of that one next. These initiations always get me in the mood."

The whiskey in my stomach sours.

Swallowing down what I really want to say, I motion for him to lead. He saunters towards the hallway where the moans are emanating from. Steeling my spine, I follow after him.

We enter through a hallway riddled with doors on either side. The moans escalate, but now that I’m closer, I hear the notes of fear and pain laced in them. Cracks of whips, flesh hitting flesh, and the loud grunts of men accompany the moans.

Fuck. Think of the child lying on a stone altar somewhere. They need me more.

At the end of the hallway is a black marble door. Dan wraps his fist around the knob and pauses before peering back at me, his lips curled with excitement.

“You ready?”

“Considering I was teased last night, I’m more than ready.”

Dan flashes a malicious smirk before opening the door. I'm met with a dark hallway, scarcely lit by dim LED lighting on either side of the floor.

The hallway is long and almost feels never-ending. And it seems the further we walk, the narrower it grows. But it's just my mind playing tricks on me.

At the end is another marble door. I glance back and notice we were going down a subtle incline, where I see a small group of men coming down the hallway in the distance.

Dan opens the door, and we're greeted by a room full of people. The black marble extends into the room, but the walls are rock. On either side are long rows of familiar black robes I've seen in the last few videos. The people gathered in here are speaking in low tones, slipping on the oversized robes.

My heart pounds, almost in disbelief that I'm finally here. The moment I've been working towards for so long.

It's surreal.

"Grab one," Dan orders, his tone serious. Without a word, I unhook a robe and slip it on. The material is silky smooth, but it feels like I'm wrapping myself in wool. Despite my large stature, the material still hangs past my feet and hands.

"This another newcomer?" a nasally voice asks from my left. I turn to see a weasel of a man standing next to me. He's at least a good three feet shorter than I am, with a receding hairline, a hooked nose, and round glasses.

"I am," I answer cryptically. "And you are?"