Daddies’ Little Assassin (Femme Fatale Freakshow)

17. The House

Chapter seventeen

The House

T he sleek black card felt cold between my fingers, and it hummed with the usual magic. My thumb hovered over its sharp edge, my heart racing with a picture of anticipation and dread. I knew what I had to do. It worked last time. I had to give my blood for knowledge. I pricked my finger and let a single drop bead, then fall, on the embossed letters spelling 'Chester'.

The moment my blood hit the card, magic filled the air around me, and my knees wobbled. Suddenly, every dark secret about Chester flooded my mind—a vile, rotting mass of information about his misdeeds. Images flashed like lightning: women sobbing in cages, bruised bodies, terrorized eyes. Chester wasn't just some underworld figure—he was a trafficker, a predator who sold supernatural beings to the highest bidder. And he used to sell to Sapphire, the succubus my Daddies, and I took out together.

I gasped, staggering back as the visions settled. My head throbbed, but the weight of the knowledge was far worse than the pain.

"Thora?" Karel's voice was steady but edged with concern. He caught me just before I could slump to the floor, cradling me against his chest. I didn't react this badly to the first hit, and my mind idly wondered what it was about Chester that was having this effect on me.

Lang and Henry loomed over me, worry etched in their features.

"What did you see?" Lang asked, his sharp gaze flicking over me.

I took a shaky breath and shared everything—the cages, the supernatural victims, and Chester's dealings with Sapphire. As I spoke, Henry's fists clenched, his knuckles going white. Karel's usually calm expression darkened, his jaw tightening with every word I uttered. Lang's eyes were hard and cold, filled with a kind of fury I'd never seen in him before.

"He's not just some thug," I whispered. "He's evil. And if we don't stop him, he'll just keep doing this... forever."

Henry exhaled through his nose, the sound like a bull ready to charge. "We won't let him live another day, darling girl."

Karel's hand traced lazy circles on my back. "Tell us where we need to go."

I closed my eyes and accessed the last bit of information I took in. Chester's favourite haunt, a grimy nightclub nestled in the city's shadows, known as The Ninth Circle . He owned it, used it as a front for his business, and felt safe there.

" The Ninth Circle, " I whispered. "That's where we'll find him."

The thudding bass of the club's music vibrated through the alley walls. Neon lights flickered over graffiti-tagged bricks, casting sharp shadows across the narrow streets. Chester's goons were stationed at the entrance—beefy shifters, who looked too bored to notice the wolves already circling them.

Lang, Karel, and Henry spread out, moving like shadows in the night. Lang handled the surveillance, his sharp eyes tracking every guard's movement. Karel and Henry watched the entry points, ready to pounce at the slightest sign of trouble. They were a well-oiled machine—predators who could dismantle Chester's operation without breaking a sweat.

And me? I was the assassin the Femme Fatale Freakshow had hired. So I'd do my damn job.

"I'll slip inside and take care of it," I told them, pulling my hood over my head.

Henry's large hand closed around my wrist, his expression dark. "We do this together, Little darling."

"I'll be careful," I promised. "You just... keep a lookout."

They didn't look happy about it, but they could feel my emotions and knew arguing was pointless. I needed to do this. Alone.

I slipped into the club through a side door, a narrow back entrance Chester thought no one knew about. The music was deafening, and the air inside reeked of cheap liquor and cigarette smoke. Bodies swayed under strobe lights, lost in the music. I moved quickly, weaving between dancers, my pulse pounding in time with the beat.

So far, so good.

I spotted Chester in a corner booth, flanked by two men. He looked like a king on his throne, sipping whiskey, surrounded by a dark energy that clung to him like a second skin. His greasy hair and sly grin made my stomach turn.

This was my moment. I just had to get close enough to strike.

I reached into my jacket, fingers brushing the cold steel of my hidden blade. But the second I took another step forward, disaster struck.

The toe of my boot caught on a loose floorboard, and I stumbled. Hard. My knee hit the ground with a crack, and I went down in a heap, slamming into a server carrying a tray of drinks. Glass shattered, and neon-coloured cocktails splashed everywhere, drenching my clothes.

My Daddies must have felt my anxiety spike because their answering worry jumped back at me through our bond.

The server cursed at me, and a few club goers turned to stare. My heart raced, and I felt my damn palms grow sweaty.

I hadn't been clumsy like this, since right before I met my Daddies, and I'd honestly thought that meeting them... bonding with them... had sorted out my unlucky streak.

Why on earth was it back now, and biting me in the ass?

The answer hit me like a slap to the face. My Daddies.

Ever since my initial blunder, I'd been around at least one of them. Somehow, they were the cure for my clumsiness.

I cursed under my breath. This was not a helpful revelation to make right before going in for another kill... without my Daddies here.

Chester's goons noticed the commotion and stood up, their eyes narrowing as they scanned the crowd for threats.

Dammit! I needed to move. I ducked, trying to stay out of sight, because, with my current luck, there was no way they wouldn't suspect me of ulterior motives.

But as mentioned... my luck was pretty fluffing crap, so one of the guards spotted me. He started toward me, and panic twisted my gut. My current state of clumsiness wasn't just inconvenient—it was downright dangerous.

Before the goon could reach me, though, a massive figure emerged from the crowd—Henry. His expression was inscrutable, and he sent the guy flying across the room with one punch.

Chaos erupted.

Karel and Lang were right behind Henry. Karel half shifted and his tentacles shot out, wrapping around another guard and slamming him into the wall. Lang moved like a shadow, slipping behind Chester and pressing a blade to his throat before the man could even scream.

Henry reached me in two strides, scooping me up and holding me tight against his chest. "Are you okay?" he growled, his voice low and dangerous. Our bond hummed with his panic and I tried to project my feelings to him, to show him I was unharmed.

"I'm fine," I whispered, burying my face in his neck. "When I'm with you three, I'm perfect. But it seems my clumsy amps itself up when I'm too far from you."

Henry's arms tightened around me. "You'll never be more than a few feet from us again."

Chester squirmed under Lang's blade, his face pulled into a sneer. "What the fuck do you want?"

Lang leaned closer, his smile sharp and cold. "From you? Nothing but your blood spilt all over this floor."

Karel's tentacles curled lazily around Chester's legs, pinning him in place. "Shall we finish this, Little Fluff?" he asked, his blue eyes twinkling.

I nodded, the weight of failure lifting as I realized I didn't have to do this alone.

I took the blade from inside my jacket and hopped from Henry's arms, landing on my feet with no issue, now that they were close.

Stalking toward Chester, I enjoyed watching his bravado fade, quickly to be replaced with fear.

Lang snorted just as the smell of urine wafted at me.

The asshole had wet himself. Good. Let them find his body in its current state, so everyone can know how Chester died.

"Killing me gets you nowhere. Taking me down will only allow more evil bastards to pop up in my place," Chester taunted me.

My only response was to grin before putting the blade against his throat and pressing down.

A drop of blood beaded and hovered on the edge of the knife, as if in limbo, waiting for me to make my next move.

"They can come, Chester old pal. One and all. It doesn't matter how many, because together, my mates and I? We'll take them all down. Starting with you."

The slice of the knife into his throat was satisfying, but not as satisfying as knowing I spoke the truth.

Together? With my Daddies? We could do anything.