The car rolled to a stop a block away from the villa, its engine settling into a low idle before Shaede cut it off. I stepped out and looked up.
The place was enormous—larger than the Urboz Gang's compound by a wide margin. High concrete walls wrapped the property like a fortress, each corner crowned with a watchtower. Floodlights swept the perimeter in slow, deliberate arcs. This wasn't a party venue. It was a façade pretending to be a stronghold.
"This is as close as I can get you, Mr. Cerberus," Shaede said, leaning back in his seat. He passed me a thick black card embossed with gold filigree. "Paradise Club's venue. Mr. Gulop had an appointment tonight but couldn't attend. He tossed the invitation. Lucky timing—you contacted me first."
I turned the card over, feeling the weight of it between my fingers. "Thank you."
He hesitated, then added, "My name's Shaede. In case you need it."
I met his eyes through the windshield. "Thank you, Shaede."
He nodded once, satisfied, and stayed put as I shut the door and headed toward the villa's main gate.
Two armed guards stepped into my path before I reached the entrance. Black tactical gear, rifles held with practiced ease.
"Invitation?" one of them said.
I handed over the card. My hood and mask didn't even earn a second glance. When you're rich enough, anonymity becomes an accessory.
The guard scanned the card, nodded, and stepped aside. "You're clear."
Inside, the front yard was packed with luxury cars—sleek, expensive, spotless. Armed guards patrolled between them, their eyes constantly moving. Money, power, fear. The usual trinity.
Then it hit me.
The smell.
Faint, but unmistakable.
Blood. Death. The same lingering scent from the pier, clinging stubbornly to memory.
My gaze snapped to the far end of the yard, where a black van sat partially hidden near a service entrance. My jaw tightened.
"So this is the place," I muttered.
The trail led toward the back door.
I started that way, but two guards blocked me before I reached it.
"You're not allowed there," one said flatly. "Main hall's that way."
Cerberus's voice purred in my head. "Let's kill them."
"No," I replied under my breath. "Not yet. We don't know who's guarding this place."
I lifted my hands slightly and gave the guards an apologetic nod. "Sorry. Got turned around."
One of them pointed. "Straight ahead, then right. You'll see the entrance."
"Thanks."
I followed the flow of guests, blending in as best I could. Masks were common—some covered half the face, others just the eyes. Everyone wore expensive suits or dresses that screamed indulgence.
As I stepped into the main hall, heat rushed to my face.
The space was vast, dimly lit with soft crimson and gold light. Music pulsed low and steady, more vibration than sound. People moved freely, unrestrained, acting as though rules didn't exist here.
As I moved deeper into the main hall, the atmosphere pressed in on me like humid air before a storm.
The smell hit first—sweet smoke, chemical sharpness, expensive perfume layered over sweat and alcohol. People lounged on velvet couches, passing glass pipes and thin silver straws like party favors. White powder dusted mirrored tables. Pills changed hands with lazy smiles. No one hid it. Why would they? This place wasn't pretending to be clean.
Laughter spilled out in uneven bursts—too loud, too careless. Eyes were glassy, unfocused. Some guests stared at nothing, lips parted, bodies swaying as if pulled by invisible strings.
I kept my head down and followed the man in front of me—the pot-bellied one in a tailored suit that failed to hide his excess. He walked with purpose at first, then slowed as if the air itself was dissolving his restraint. I watched his shoulders loosen, his breathing deepen.
Without hesitation, he stopped near the center of the hall.
He shrugged off his jacket. Let it fall.
Then his shirt followed. Buttons popped free, clinking against the marble floor. No embarrassment. No hesitation. Around us, no one reacted—this was normal here.
A naked woman approached him, her face hidden behind an ornate mask, her skin catching the low red light. She took his hand like this was a dance they'd rehearsed before. He laughed—thick, sloppy—and let himself be pulled closer.
I turned away before they touched.
Cerberus chuckled. "See? Masks off. That's all it takes."
"Disgusting," I muttered.
Cerberus laughed softly. "No. This really is paradise."
"No, this is a disgusting."
"A virgin like you wouldn't understand."
"I've watched before," I snapped.
"But never tried," he replied smugly. "Maybe that's why Mae drifted away. You couldn't give her what she wanted."
"Shut up," I hissed, louder than I meant to.
Heads turned. A few curious glances, some amused, some irritated. I lowered my gaze and kept walking, my pulse hammering.
Then a familiar voice stopped me cold.
"Mr. Cerberus," she said smoothly. "What a pleasure to see you here."
Cerberus chuckled in my head. "The pleasure would be mine if you accompanied me tonight."
Only I heard him.
I looked up.
Rebecca stood before me, poised and radiant in a deep red dress that hugged her frame without apology. She looked completely at home here—calm, composed, dangerous in her own way.
"I'm not here for pleasure, Miss Rebecca," I said carefully. "I'm looking for someone."
Her eyes flicked over me, sharp and knowing. "Is that so?"
"Yes," I replied. "A girl was kidnapped earlier in the red district. Her boyfriend was killed. The van they used is outside."
She tilted her head slightly. "Lucky girl. Mr. Cerberus himself coming to rescue her."
"You misunderstood," I said. "She's only part of it. I'm after the people who did this."
Rebecca studied me in silence.
"They're using fear of Nihilkins to hide their crimes," I continued. "To cause chaos. I won't tolerate that."
She sighed softly. "Then I'll give you some advice, Mr. Cerberus. Don't cause trouble here."
"Why?" I asked.
"Because two of the organizers tonight are Nihilkins as well," she said. "I've never met them, but I know their names."
Cerberus went still.
"They call themselves Midas," she said, "and Morpheus."
The air felt heavier after that.
Cerberus's voice dropped to a low growl. "Troublesome."
I exhaled slowly. "Then this place is worse than I thought."
Rebecca leaned closer, lowering her voice. "If you're going to move, do it carefully. Too much noise, and this turns into a slaughterhouse."
"That depends," I said. "On who starts it."
Her lips curved faintly. "Be careful, Mr. Cerberus. You attract attention whether you want it or not."
She stepped aside, letting the crowd swallow her again.
Cerberus laughed under his breath. "She likes you."
"Now's not the time."
"No," he agreed. "Now's the time to hunt."
I turned away from the main hall, memorizing faces, exits, guard positions. Somewhere inside this villa, a girl was being held like merchandise.