First, it was Frank. Now it's Layla that's missing. The dancer was caught digging for information.

Mae couldn't believe it. The club had swallowed another person whole. She had known Layla was growing more suspicious of things, asking too many questions about what had happened to Frank, but she never thought it would lead to this.

Layla was just gone, without a trace.

The club's management had been quiet about it, too quiet, as if her disappearance wasn't anything unusual. But the tension among the dancers was palpable. Whispers passed through the dressing rooms, hushed conversations behind closed doors. Everyone was on edge, everyone was afraid.

Mae could feel the weight of it pressing down on her, growing heavier by the hour. First Frank, now Layla. How long before it was her turn?

She sat in front of the dressing room mirror, her reflection staring back at her with wide, exhausted eyes. The makeup on her face felt like a mask she couldn't take off, the glitter and red lipstick hiding the fear that pulsed just beneath the surface.

Layla's things were still in the dressing room. Her costumes hung in the corner, untouched, as if she'd walk in any moment and slip into them like nothing had happened. But Mae knew better. She had learned the hard way that once someone disappeared from Hell's Angels, they didn't come back.

Not the same, at least.

Her phone buzzed, and Mae's heart skipped a beat. She glanced down, half-expecting another message from him, the faceless man who seemed to control every move she made.

But it wasn't from him.

It was from one of the other dancers.

"Have you heard anything about Layla? No one's talking."

Mae's fingers hovered over the screen as she tried to think of a response. What was there to say? That Layla had probably met the same fate as Frank? That asking questions was a death sentence in this place?

"No, nothing," she typed back, her fingers trembling. She hit send and set the phone down on the vanity, her stomach churning with dread.

She couldn't shake the feeling that something bigger was coming. Something worse than Frank's disappearance, worse than Layla vanishing without a trace. The messages from the man, the command to obey—it was all leading to something, and Mae didn't know how much longer she could keep playing along before it all fell apart.

Her mind raced as she tried to piece it together. Frank had been trying to dig into the club's investors, and Layla... well, she had been too curious for her own good. But what had they found? What had they uncovered that made them targets?

And what about her? What did this man want with her?

Mae stared at her reflection in the mirror, the bright lights casting harsh shadows on her face. She didn't recognize herself anymore. The confident, carefree dancer she used to be had been replaced by someone who was constantly looking over her shoulder, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

She needed to get out. But every time she thought about running, about packing up her things and disappearing, she remembered the messages. The ones that told her he was always watching. The ones that promised there was no escape.

Her phone buzzed again, and Mae's breath caught in her throat.

"Meet me. Room 13. Tonight."

Her stomach twisted at the familiar words. Room 13 again. That place had become the center of this nightmare, the place where he liked to remind her of just how much control he had over her life.

But what choice did she have?

She couldn't refuse. Not now. Not after Layla.

Mae took a deep breath, pushing back the panic that was clawing at her chest. She needed to keep it together. She needed to survive this.

She stood up from the vanity, her legs shaking slightly as she slipped into her heels. The other dancers were already in their own world, preparing for the night's performances, oblivious to the fact that their colleague had vanished. Oblivious to the fact that they could be next.

Mae made her way through the club, her heart pounding with every step. The music thumped in her chest, but it did nothing to drown out the thoughts racing through her mind. She reached the back hallway, the one that led to the private rooms, and paused for a moment.

The door to Room 13 loomed ahead, just like it always did.

She had been in this room so many times now, each visit more suffocating than the last. But tonight, it felt different. There was something in the air, something she couldn't quite place.

Her hand shook as she reached for the handle. The cold metal felt foreign beneath her fingers, and for a moment, she considered turning around and running as far as she could.

But that wasn't an option anymore.

With a deep breath, Mae opened the door and stepped inside.

The room was as dimly lit as ever, the shadows stretching across the walls like claws. But tonight, it wasn't empty. Someone was sitting at the table, their back to her, the soft glow of the lamp casting a silhouette across the room.

Mae's heart skipped a beat.

"Sit down," the voice commanded, low and smooth.

Mae hesitated for a second before walking toward the table, her legs shaking as she lowered herself into the chair across from him. The man's face was obscured by the shadows, but his presence filled the room. She didn't have to see him to know he was dangerous.

"You've been asking too many questions, Mae," the man said, his voice quiet but firm. "I told you before, obedience is the only thing that will keep you safe."

Mae's throat tightened, her mind racing. "What did you do to Layla?"

The man chuckled softly, a sound that sent a chill down her spine. "Layla didn't know when to stop. Just like Frank."

A knot formed in Mae's stomach. "Is she alive?"

"That depends on your next move."

Mae's pulse pounded in her ears. She had been playing along, trying to figure out how deep this went, but now it was clear. She was out of time. This man, whoever he was, had been pulling the strings all along. He had made Frank disappear, and now he had taken Layla.

He wasn't just watching.

He was acting.

"I need you to understand something, Mae," the man said, leaning forward slightly. "You don't get to question me. You don't get to fight back. You belong to me now."

Mae clenched her fists under the table, anger bubbling up inside her. She had spent so long trying to stay on the right side of things, trying to survive, but now she realized that wasn't enough. No matter what she did, she was trapped. There was no way out.

But she couldn't let him break her. Not yet.

"What do you want from me?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

The man smiled, though it was more of a shadowed smirk than anything else. "I want you to do exactly as you're told. No more digging. No more questions. You perform, you keep your mouth shut, and you stay out of trouble. If you can do that, then maybe you'll survive."

Mae's blood ran cold. This was it. The moment she had been dreading.

"Do we have an understanding?" he asked, his voice dark and dripping with control.

Mae nodded slowly, her mind reeling. She didn't have a choice. Not anymore.

But as she stared into the shadows of the room, something shifted inside her. She didn't know how, and she didn't know when, but one way or another, she was going to take back control. She had to.

Because if she didn't, she was going to end up like Layla.

Or worse.

The air in the room felt thicker, heavier than ever before. The shadows pressed in around Mae as the man stepped closer, his presence filling the small space, suffocating her with the weight of his control. Every nerve in her body screamed for her to leave, to run, but her legs wouldn't move. She stood frozen, staring up at the man who had been manipulating her from the shadows.

The low hum of Hell's Angels music barely reached the walls of Room 13, the muffled bass the only sound that kept her grounded in reality. Her heart pounded so loudly that it nearly drowned out everything else, but she couldn't look away from him.

"You're fighting a losing battle, Mae," he said, his voice a soft, dangerous whisper. "You can resist all you want, but I own you now. I always have."

Mae's breath caught in her throat. She had heard those words before, felt the sting of his control over her life, but this time it felt different. This time, it was tangible. The walls closed in around her, and the room seemed smaller, like there was nowhere left to run. She had come here hoping to confront him, to take back some sense of control, but now it felt like she was sinking deeper into his web.

He was closer now, only inches away, his dark eyes fixed on hers, the gleam in them terrifyingly unreadable. Mae's skin prickled, her heart hammering as the weight of his gaze pressed down on her, suffocating her.

"You don't have to fight it anymore," he whispered, his voice like velvet, seductive and dangerous all at once. "You belong to me now."

His words hung in the air between them, thick with meaning, and Mae felt the knot in her stomach tighten. She opened her mouth to speak, to tell him she would never be his, but no words came out. Fear gripped her throat, stealing her voice. Her breath came in shallow, shaky gasps, and she could feel the tremble in her hands as she clenched them at her sides.

The man reached out, his hand hovering just inches from her cheek. Mae flinched but didn't step back. His touch, when it came, was light, his fingers brushing the side of her face in a way that made her skin burn and crawl all at once.

"You're mine, Mae," he whispered again, his lips curving into a dark smile. "You've known it for a long time."

Mae wanted to scream, to push him away, but the fear held her still. Her body betrayed her, and she could only watch as he leaned closer, his breath warm against her skin, his presence overwhelming. She was trapped, caught in the web he had woven around her, and there was no escape.

Then, without warning, he closed the distance between them.

His lips brushed against hers, the touch both soft and forceful, a kiss that sent a shockwave through her body. Mae's heart stuttered in her chest, her mind racing as the reality of what was happening hit her like a punch. She wanted to push him away, to scream, to fight, but her body didn't respond. She was paralyzed, frozen in place as his mouth moved against hers.

The kiss was cold, calculated, nothing like the tenderness she had once known. It was a kiss of control, of dominance, a reminder of just how powerless she had become in his presence. His hand slid to the back of her neck, holding her in place as he deepened the kiss, his grip firm but not painful. It was a warning, a promise of what he could do if she stepped out of line.

Mae's mind screamed for her to stop it, to push him away, but the fear held her captive. Every fiber of her being told her to resist, but the weight of his control was too strong. She felt herself slipping, sinking further into the darkness that surrounded him.

When he finally pulled back, Mae gasped for air, her body trembling as she tried to steady herself. Her heart raced, her mind spinning, but she couldn't make sense of anything. She felt sick, dizzy, her lips tingling from the coldness of his kiss.

He stood there, watching her with that same unreadable expression, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction.

"You see, Mae?" he whispered, his voice low and dangerous. "You can fight all you want, but in the end, you'll always belong to me."

Mae swallowed hard, her throat tight with fear and anger. She wanted to yell, to tell him he was wrong, that she would never belong to him, but the words caught in her throat. She could still feel the weight of his kiss on her lips, the coldness of it seeping into her bones.

He stepped back, straightening his jacket, as if nothing had happened. "Room 13 isn't just a place for meetings," he said, his tone calm and controlled. "It's where I remind you of your place."

Mae's hands clenched into fists, her nails digging into her palms as she struggled to keep control of her emotions. She couldn't let him see how much he had shaken her. She couldn't give him that satisfaction.

He smiled again, but there was no warmth in it. "You'll be at the club tomorrow night," he said. "I expect you to perform your best, Mae. No more questions. No more doubts."

Mae's heart pounded in her chest, her anger simmering beneath the surface. She didn't say a word, just stared at him with all the defiance she could muster. But inside, she felt like she was unraveling.

The man gave her one last look, then turned and walked toward the door. Mae's breath came in shallow gasps, her body still trembling from the intensity of the moment. She watched as he left the room, the door clicking shut behind him, leaving her alone in the suffocating darkness.

Mae collapsed into the chair, her legs too weak to hold her up. The room spun around her, her mind reeling from what had just happened. She could still feel his kiss, the weight of it, the coldness of it, and it made her stomach turn.

But as the fear began to settle, something else stirred inside her.

Anger.

It bubbled up from deep within, a burning rage that she hadn't felt in a long time. This man, whoever he was, thought he could control her, thought he could make her his puppet, but he had underestimated her.

Mae clenched her fists, her nails biting into her palms as the anger surged through her. She wasn't going to let him win. She wasn't going to let him break her.

Not now. Not ever.

As she sat in the darkened room, the shadows pressing in around her, Mae made a silent vow to herself.

She would fight back. She would find a way to escape his control.

And when the time came, she would make sure he paid for everything he had done.