Dark Torment ✔

Chapter 3: Dark Gamble

"Did you really have to send Vincent for this?" Ryder asked Gabriel.

"He can handle himself," Gabriel answered, "and Azura's with him."

Ryder knew that Azura was a capable fighter, always served and protected this pack. But he never liked giving his responsibility to anyone else to handle. It was his job to keep Vincent safe, he preferred to do it himself.

"Are you done sulking or do I need to give you another moment?" Gabriel said as he got to his feet.

"I'm not sulking," Ryder gritted out.

River and Gabriel were already by the door and didn't hear him. He followed them out and left the building. A valet brought their car and all of them got in. Ryder drove to the address that River procured.

"Why are we going to a bar at this hour?" Ryder asked as he recognized the address.

"You'll see," Gabriel answered nonchalantly.

"That makes me tense," River replied.

Gabriel smirked at him through the rear-view mirror. "We're paying someone a visit," he told them.

"Like that reassures me," River remarked.

Their alpha chuckled as they arrived outside a men's private club that required a membership just to enter. Satan's Lair was a huge building built with a strong foundation and run by the Turner family for generations. Ryder didn't visit this place, it wasn't his type. Frankly, the men that did make a habit of coming here were dangerous and not the best choice to make friends with or even acquaintances.

Parking on the side of the road, they all walked towards the club that was in business even mid-day. As they approached the door, a big bulky man in a suit stopped them.

"Password?" he asked them with a stoic tone.

Ryder looked over at his brother and then at his alpha. "Do we know the password?" he mumbled softly.

"No clue," said River.

Gabriel took his sunglasses off. "Gabriel Centauri," he announced.

The man stiffened as he easily recognized the name. He didn't waste a second more before he showed them into the small passageway revealing a glossy black door, that had the devil's face as an ornament carved into the panelling. He pushed it open and welcomed them inside. The building smelt of smoky wood, sandalwood and rich leather like the interior of a new car. The lighting was dim as they passed a hall of paintings and art that had to have cost a fortune. Walking along a black rug, the entry opened up to a massive club that was all different tones of red. The walls painted a dark wine colour as the furniture was rich oak with dashes of gold in the wood. Chandeliers hung over every table where men sat with cigars playing cards or talking business. Women served drinks to them, they were in red too, masks over their eyes like they wished to stay anonymous.

A man appeared from the door behind the bar. He was short, thin- more bones than muscle, Ryder wondered how his lanky legs even supported him. He had stark white hair, wrinkles around his eyes and mouth from smiling all the time. But he was dressed to perfection, a suit made with the finest tailoring. On his breast pocket was a golden pin that had the initials of the club engraved on the shiny coin-like base.

"Mr. Centauri," Eric Turner smiled cheerfully, "it is an honour to have you walk in my club."

Gabriel accepted the man's hand as a sign of amity. "You don't need to flatter me," he said, "I'm not a member here."

"That is no matter, sir," said Mr. Turner. "You are welcome here whenever you wish. What would you like? Refreshments, premium cigars for you and your friends?"