The next morning, Mae woke to a persistent pounding in her head. Her muscles ached from the previous night's performance, but the physical pain was nothing compared to the emotional exhaustion that had settled deep in her bones. The events of the past few days, the threats, the men at her apartment, the oppressive control from Hell's Angels—it all weighed heavily on her, like an anchor pulling her deeper into a dark abyss.

She pulled herself out of bed, the thin light of the early morning filtering through her apartment's curtains. Every movement felt heavy, as if her body was resisting the start of another day. Mae rubbed her eyes and glanced around the room. It still didn't feel like hers, not anymore. Not with the knowledge that she was being watched, that the men pulling the strings had eyes everywhere.

Her phone buzzed on the nightstand, its screen lighting up with a new message. For a split second, Mae hesitated, her heart racing as she reached for the device. Was it another threat? Another warning reminding her of her place?

She unlocked the phone, her pulse quickening when she saw the number was blocked. It was just like before.

"Meet me at the rooftop bar at 8 p.m. tonight. Don't be late."

Mae stared at the screen, her stomach twisting with a mixture of fear and curiosity. The message wasn't like the others. It wasn't threatening, not overtly, but it was still a command. There was no question about whether or not she would go. She had to. They would make sure of it.

But why? What did they want now?

Her thoughts raced as she set the phone down. This was a different kind of invitation—one that felt more personal, more direct. Whoever had sent the message clearly had power, but why would they ask her to meet them? And why now?

The questions gnawed at her as she made her way through her morning routine. She showered, dressed, and prepared herself for another day, but the looming meeting hung over her like a dark cloud, casting a shadow over everything she did.

By the time the evening rolled around, Mae's nerves were frayed, her mind buzzing with anticipation and dread. She dressed carefully, choosing an outfit that was subtle yet elegant, something that wouldn't draw too much attention but would still give her a sense of control. A sleek black dress, simple but powerful.

As she made her way to the rooftop bar, her mind raced with thoughts of the unknown person behind the message. Could it be him? The man who had revealed himself as the one pulling the strings at Hell's Angels? The man who had made it clear that she was his, that her life was no longer her own?

The thought made her stomach churn. She didn't know if she could face him again, not after everything that had happened. But she had no choice. She had to show up, had to face whatever waited for her. Because if she didn't, she knew the consequences would be far worse.

The bar was perched high above the city, a sleek and modern space with floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the glittering skyline of Los Angeles. The view was breathtaking, but Mae barely noticed it as she stepped inside, her heart pounding in her chest.

The place was nearly empty, save for a few patrons scattered across the room, lost in their own conversations. Mae scanned the bar, searching for the person who had summoned her, but no one stood out. No one seemed to be waiting for her.

A wave of unease washed over her. Was this some kind of trap? Had they brought her here just to remind her of the power they held?

Before she could dwell on the thought, a figure emerged from the shadows near the far end of the bar. Mae's breath caught in her throat as she recognized him. It was the man from the club—the one who had revealed himself to be behind it all.

He was dressed in a sharp suit, his dark hair perfectly styled, his eyes cold and calculating as they locked onto hers. He didn't smile, but there was a glint in his gaze that made Mae's skin crawl. It was as if he knew exactly what she was thinking, as if he could read her every fear, her every doubt.

Mae swallowed hard and forced herself to walk toward him, her heels clicking softly against the polished floor. Every step felt like a battle against her own instincts, the desire to run warring with the need to confront him.

When she reached him, he motioned for her to sit. Mae hesitated for only a moment before sliding into the chair opposite him, her posture stiff, her heart racing.

"Mae," he said, his voice low and smooth. "I'm glad you came."

She didn't respond, her mind racing with questions. She wanted to ask him why he had summoned her, what he wanted from her, but the words wouldn't come. She could feel the tension in the air between them, thick and heavy, as if they were both waiting for the other to make the first move.

He leaned back in his chair, his eyes never leaving hers. "I'm sure you're wondering why I asked you to meet me here."

Mae nodded, her throat tight. "Yeah. I am."

A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips, but it didn't reach his eyes. "I thought it was time we had a more... direct conversation."

She tensed, her fingers gripping the edge of the table. "About what?"

"About your future," he said simply, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "You've proven yourself at Hell's Angels. You've become more than just a performer. You've become someone of interest."

Mae's stomach twisted at his words. Interest? What did that mean? Was this some kind of promotion, or was it something more sinister?

"I don't understand," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "What do you want from me?"

He leaned forward, his eyes narrowing slightly. "I want you to understand the position you're in, Mae. You've been given an opportunity that most people could only dream of. Power. Influence. Control."

She stared at him, her heart pounding in her chest. "Control? Over what?"

"Over your life," he said, his voice calm and measured. "You have more control than you think. But it comes at a cost. Everything does."

Mae's mind spun as she tried to process his words. He was offering her something—something she didn't fully understand yet. But whatever it was, it came with strings attached. And she knew those strings would be impossible to break.

"I never asked for this," Mae said, her voice shaking slightly. "I never wanted to be part of your world."

He tilted his head, his gaze sharp. "But you are. And now you have to decide how you're going to play the game."

Mae's breath hitched in her throat. The game. That's what this was to him—a game of power, manipulation, control. And she was just another piece on the board.

"I'm not playing your game," she said, her voice stronger now, more defiant. "I'm not going to let you control me."

The man's expression darkened, his eyes narrowing. "You already are, Mae. Whether you like it or not, you're in this. And the sooner you accept that, the better off you'll be."

Mae stared at him, her heart pounding. She wanted to argue, to fight back, but deep down, she knew he was right. She was in this, whether she liked it or not. And there was no way out.

But that didn't mean she had to surrender completely.

"I'm not going to be your puppet," she said, her voice steady despite the fear coursing through her veins. "If you want me to stay in this, you're going to have to give me something in return."

The man raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "And what would that be?"

Mae hesitated for only a moment before answering. "Freedom. I want my freedom."

He smiled, but it wasn't a kind smile. It was the smile of someone who had just won. "Freedom, Mae, is a luxury. And luxuries don't come cheap."

Mae's stomach twisted, but she didn't back down. She had to take back some semblance of control, even if it meant making a deal with the devil himself.

"Then tell me what the price is," she said, her voice unwavering.

He leaned back in his chair, his smile widening. "The price is simple. Loyalty."

Mae felt the weight of his words settle over her, the trap tightening around her. But this time, she wasn't going to let herself fall without a fight.

"I'll give you loyalty," she said, her voice cold. "But I won't give you my soul."

The man chuckled softly, his eyes glinting with amusement. "We'll see about that, Mae. We'll see."

Mae held her breath, her pulse thrumming in her ears as the man's eyes stayed fixed on her. The rooftop bar around them felt distant, the ambient noise of clinking glasses and muted conversations fading into the background. All that mattered was this moment, this exchange—the cold power in his voice, the sharp edges of his promises.

"You think you have control," Mae said, her voice quieter but no less defiant. "But people like you always make mistakes. And when you do, I'll be ready."

The man's smile didn't falter, but something in his expression shifted, his amusement giving way to something darker, more dangerous. He leaned in slightly, his gaze narrowing.

"You should be careful with threats, Mae. They can backfire."

Mae's fingers curled into fists beneath the table, but she forced herself to hold his gaze. She couldn't afford to show fear, not now. Not when he was testing her. Every word, every glance was a move in a game she was only beginning to understand. But she refused to let him know how deeply he unsettled her.

"Maybe," she said, her voice steady. "But so can underestimating me."

For a moment, there was silence between them, the tension crackling in the air like static. Then, the man leaned back in his chair, a faint smile playing at his lips once more.

"Underestimating you?" he repeated, his tone almost teasing. "No, Mae. I don't underestimate you. In fact, that's why I'm offering you this chance. You're smarter than most of the people I deal with. Stronger, too. But don't mistake that for a weakness on my part. I know exactly who I'm dealing with."

Mae's throat tightened at his words. There was something chilling about the way he spoke, as if he had seen every part of her—every fear, every doubt—and was using it to his advantage. She had never felt more exposed, more vulnerable, and yet, she couldn't back down. Not now.

"What's this really about?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper. "Why me? Why all of this?"

The man's smile widened, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Because, Mae, you have potential. Potential that goes far beyond what you've been doing at Hell's Angels. You've proven that you can handle the pressure, that you can adapt, survive. And those are qualities I value."

Mae's chest tightened. His words sounded like praise, but she knew there was something more beneath the surface. There always was. He wasn't offering her a way out—he was offering her a way in, deeper into his world, where the cost of survival would be her soul.

"I don't want your version of freedom," Mae said, her voice sharper now. "I want to be done with all of this."

His eyes darkened, and for the first time, Mae saw a flicker of something resembling disappointment cross his face. "You don't understand, Mae. You're already part of it. You've been part of it since the moment you walked into that club. There is no 'done'."

Her heart sank at his words, the finality in them cutting through her like a blade. But she wouldn't let him see her falter. She couldn't.

"Then why give me the illusion of choice?" Mae asked, her voice tinged with bitterness. "Why pretend like any of this is negotiable?"

The man leaned forward again, his voice low and dangerous. "Because I don't need to force you. I just need to show you the path. And eventually, Mae, you'll choose it for yourself. People always do."

Mae felt a cold shiver run down her spine. The certainty in his voice terrified her. He spoke with the confidence of someone who had played this game many times before, who knew exactly how it would end. And the worst part was, some small part of her believed him. Because in this world, there were no real choices, only the illusion of them.

She swallowed hard, her mind racing. There had to be a way out, a way to take back control without completely surrendering. But the path ahead felt treacherous, lined with traps she couldn't yet see.

"What do you want from me?" Mae asked, her voice quiet but steady.

The man smiled, his eyes gleaming with a quiet satisfaction. "Loyalty. For now, that's all I need from you. Stay at the club. Keep doing what you're doing. And when the time comes, I'll call on you for something more."

Mae's stomach twisted at his words, but she forced herself to nod. She had no choice. Not yet. She would have to play his game, at least for now.

The man stood, his movements smooth and controlled. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a card, sliding it across the table toward her.

"If you ever need anything, use this," he said, his voice calm. "But be careful, Mae. Everything comes with a price."

Mae stared at the card, her fingers hesitating before she finally picked it up. It was blank except for a single number. No name, no company, just a direct line to him. A lifeline, or a noose. She couldn't tell which.

Without another word, the man turned and walked away, his figure disappearing into the shadows of the rooftop bar. Mae watched him go, her mind swirling with fear, anger, and a growing sense of dread.

She was in deeper than she had ever imagined. And now, more than ever, she knew she couldn't trust anyone—not even herself.

Mae clutched the card in her hand, her knuckles white as she stared out at the city below. The skyline stretched endlessly before her, glittering with possibilities she could no longer reach. She was trapped, and the only way out was through him.

But Mae wasn't ready to give up. Not yet. She would play the game, she would bide her time. And when the moment came, she would take back her freedom—no matter the cost.