The Devil’s Chaos (The Brotherhood #2)

1. One

1

ONE

HAVEN

“ T here’s my little sister .”

My skin crawled when my brother’s voice sounded behind me as he entered my dressing room, followed by his goons, Rocco and Bruno. Twin brothers, and equally as dumb as they looked. I rolled my eyes before I looked up to meet his gaze in the mirror and gave him a fake smile.

“Don’t you have some patrons to entertain, big brother?” I scoffed as I applied another coat of red lipstick.

He moved behind me as he wrapped his arms around my stomach and smelled my hair. “You smell divine. Remember how important tonight is for me.”

I stood stiffly against his chest and stared at him in the mirror. “For you? Don’t you mean our father?”

“Semantics,” he sneered while he pulled me closer to his body.

“I haven’t forgotten, Alex,” I huffed in annoyance.

I didn’t know all the details about tonight, but I knew that my father was insistent on securing a deal with Winston Grey, who was currently allied with The Brotherhood—one of the rival organizations that was a permanent thorn in my father’s side. For as long as I could remember, The Brotherhood had reigned supreme over all of New York City with their influence in politics, law enforcement, Wall Street, and all the inner workings of gun running and underground dealings. They were rich. Untouchable. And they had made it their mission to prevent my father from dealing in the most profitable resource in the world.

Humans.

My father trafficked women, drugs, and weapons.

And he was good at it—but not good enough.

Not that there was honor among thieves. Even though The Brotherhood committed their own unscrupulous dealings, they never got into the human trafficking game. They weren’t heroes by any means, but that was the one thing they stayed far away from and went after my father for.

Stepping out of his arms, I walked toward my closet and reached down to grab my black glitter stilettos. Alex watched me as I slipped them on and shrugged off my robe, revealing my black lace lingerie with sheer fabric and strips wrapped around my waist and crossed around my breasts. He looked me up and down, licking his lips, and I shuddered in disgust, hoping he didn’t see. Thankfully, his eyes settled on my chest and not my face, where he surely would have seen a look that would have angered him.

“How about you take a few minutes to make your brother happy?” he said, his eyes watching me as I ran my fingers through my long black hair, rechecking my appearance before I walked out into the club.

“I’m sure our father would love for you to explain why you held me up from his guests.” I scoffed in irritation.

I started to walk past him, but he grabbed my arm tightly and leaned down, letting his lips touch my ear as he spoke.

“Watch yourself, Haven,” he growled, digging his fingers deeper into my skin. “I’ll see you after.”

I didn’t dare look at him because if I did, he would see the hatred in my eyes, and my punishment would be worse when he got his hands on me. Although the fear of our father kept him at bay, it didn’t stop the cruelty that consumed him and trickled down to me. One time he caught me rolling my eyes, and he forced me to give him a blowjob in front of Bruno and Rocco while they sat in their chairs smiling and drinking.

I tried to suppress my rage as I took deep breaths, focusing on keeping myself calm. I knew better than to respond because my voice would get me in more trouble, so I stood stiff as a statue and waited for him to be satisfied. The second his grip loosened, I walked out the door, pushing past Bruno and Rocco, and stepped into the dark hallway, approaching the VIP room where my father brought his friends and business partners. I was expected to behave and entertain, using my body to loosen them up so my father could take advantage or secure his business ventures. I learned a long time ago that my place in my family was purely transactional. The only thing I was good for was my body, and even my father had turned a blind eye to the sick things my brother forced me to do. As long as the money was coming in, I had no voice. They could break my body, but they would never break my spirit. My time in their gilded cage was coming to an end, and I would finally be free.

I took a deep breath, letting my transformation take place—the one where I turned off my emotions and became the girl of every man’s dreams. The one that made their dicks hard and made them feel alive again. I could be whatever they wanted, from whatever fantasy they conjured up. I was a temptress tonight, walking without fear among the sea of men waiting for me to indulge in their desires. I gave a tight nod to the bouncers and glided through the velvet curtain into the dimly lit VIP section. The pulsating music and flashing lights enveloped me as I approached the center stage. The room was filled with wealthy elites and their young and restless sons who were destined to take over their father’s empires one day. They all came to be wined and dined by my father, Abel Benson, the king of The Collectors—an organization that made its money off the backs of sex, drugs, and trafficking.

The room was dimly lit, and the red and blue hues illuminated their faces. The music beat in time with my heart, drowning out any other sound, and their eyes followed me as I walked past each table. They watched me with a hunger that made my skin crawl, but I didn’t let it faze me. I strutted my way through the room, making it clear that I belonged and was here to satisfy the same twisted hunger that my brother, Alex, thrived on. My mother always said I was born to command an audience, and I used this to my advantage.

The deafening bass of the music traveled through the floor to meet my feet. I saw my father sitting at the center table, deep in conversation with an older man, and when I walked up on the stage, I saw him redirect his attention to me. I knew what my father wanted—a performance that would make every man in the room consider paying him for access to me. I wrapped my hands around the cold metal of the pole and let my hips sway as I circled it. I started to move my body, twisting and turning, grinding my hips and shaking to the rhythm of the music. As the set went on, my father’s gaze never left me. Neither did his partner’s; the older gentleman seemed entranced by my every move. I let my hair fall over my shoulders, it’s dark waves cascading down like a waterfall. I locked eyes with a man in the corner, the club lights casting a red hue over his face. He watched me like no one had ever watched me.

Calm.

But his eyes were full of hunger.

He was the type of man who ran the world, the kind of man who was used to having everything he wanted. He didn’t look like my father’s usual companions, but he also didn’t look like he didn’t belong there. I took in every detail of his body language. He was seated on a plush red sofa, his arms folded across his chest, and his knees slightly parted. As I climbed the pole, my body rippling with each movement, I could feel his eyes on me. The way he looked at me had my heart slamming against my chest. The way his lips were pulled into a tight line, his eyes never leaving me, told me he wanted something from me. No, not me, but what I represented: a desirable, valuable commodity. The energy in the room changed. All eyes were on me and my performance, but this man’s gaze was different. It was desire, but also something else.

Danger.

Obsession .

Control.

Power.

Freedom.

My body descended from the pole, glistening with sweat as I twirled around, and I knew the crowd was exactly where I wanted it. I was a siren, and the men in the room were my helpless sailors. I continued my performance, grinding and dancing, but my mind was focused on the stranger in the corner of the room. As the music faded, and the other girls took to the stage or appeared to bring drinks to my father’s business ventures, I sauntered off, but the man in the corner kept his gaze locked on my every move. My father and his friend stood up, their eyes burning into me, and I knew I had done what my father wanted me to do.

The room erupted into applause and catcalls, a mixture of praise and hunger for what I represented. My father opened his arms, beckoning me to his table, and I knew what was coming next. I plastered a fake smile on my face and walked into his embrace as he whispered in my ear.

“Well done, daughter.”

“Thank you,” I responded, forcing fake appreciation.

“Haven, I want you to meet my good friend, Winston Grey, head of Grey Industries. He heads one of the most profitable trading companies in New York City.”

I looked up at the man standing next to my father, my eyes flicking to his face, taking in his sharp features and cold expression. He was older than my father, perhaps in his mid-fifties. He stood tall, with an impeccable posture, and his eyes locked on me, studying me as if I were a prize. He wore a dark suit with a white shirt and an expensive-looking timepiece on his wrist. I forced a sweet smile, extending my hand for him to shake.

“It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Grey,” I said, my voice high and flirtatious. My father must have been pleased because his smile widened, and he patted me on the back, his touch hard and possessive.

“She’s a real talent, Winston,” he said, a note of fake pride in his voice. “My daughter is the star of my empire.”

Star of his empire. Ha.

Winston Grey’s eyes never left me as he shook my hand. “I agree, Abel. I’ve heard some great things about you, Haven.”

My father’s grin widened further as he drank in the scene, aware of the control he held over me and the power he could exert over others. I knew I had to play my role perfectly, an innocent pawn in the game my father had set up.

“Likewise.”

Lies.

I had heard enough behind the scenes about Winston Grey. The one thing I was good at was pretending I wasn’t smart enough to know what was going on outside of the world of being a pimped-out stripper and mule for their drug empire. But I took information. I did not provide it. I soaked in everything I heard and locked it away for a rainy day. And what I knew about Winston Grey could very well prove to be his downfall to the right person. He was a dishonest politician who had ties with The Brotherhood—ties that he had become profitable off of. He helped them launder guns and kept the law off their backs, and in return, they offered him money and protection. This long-standing partnership had existed well before I was born, but if he stood next to my father, the rumors were true.

Winston Grey was a traitor and was switching sides.

Interesting.

Also, dumb as shit.

From what I knew of The Brotherhood, they valued loyalty over everything.

Turns out, money no longer satisfied his hunger. He had broadened his tastes to drugs and women, and my father was the perfect source to quell his thirst.

But at what cost?

My father never dealt with those who couldn’t pay in one way or another. He would get his pound of flesh, but I was curious about what Winston would pay to become a part of my father’s world.

Undoubtedly, The Brotherhood would get their revenge, and I felt a shiver of excitement run through my body as I realized I could use them as a catalyst to get me what I wanted.

Freedom .

Now, I had to figure out what I could give them in exchange for a traitor.