The Blackmail
They waited another hour.
Bella kept her eyes on the screen, watching Bron and Vivian dress slowly, reluctantly. They kissed at the door—long and lingering, like they were trying to memorize each other. Then Vivian left first, her heels clicking down the hallway.
Bron waited five minutes before following.
"That's our cue," Hela said, starting the engine.
They pulled out of the parking lot just as Bron's car turned onto the main road. Hela kept three cars between them, her movements smooth and practiced.
Bella's heart was pounding. Her hands were clenched in her lap.
Bron drove for twenty minutes, heading east toward the industrial district. The buildings grew older, more run-down. Graffiti covered brick walls. Streetlights flickered.
Then Bron's car turned into a residential neighborhood—small houses with chain-link fences and overgrown lawns.
He pulled into the driveway of a two-story house with peeling paint and bars on the windows.
Hela drove past, then circled back and parked two blocks away.
"That's it," she said quietly.
Bella stared at the house. Through the windows, she could see movement. Shadows. Multiple people inside.
"How many?" Mara asked.
"At least a dozen," Hela said. "Maybe more."
Bella's stomach twisted. A dozen men. Armed. Dangerous.
"We can't just walk up there," Mara said. "They'll shoot us before we get to the door."
"We're not going to sneak in," Bella said. Her voice was steady, but her hands were shaking. "We're going to knock."
Mara stared at her. "Are you fucking insane?"
"We have leverage." Bella held up her phone. "They don't know that yet. But they will."
Hela looked at her for a long moment. Then she nodded. "Alright. Let's do it."
They got out of the car.
Bella's legs felt weak. Her pulse was racing. Every instinct screamed at her to run, to get back in the car and drive away.
But Jack was out there. Somewhere. Suffering.
She forced herself to walk.
The three of them moved down the sidewalk, their footsteps echoing in the quiet night. The house loomed ahead, its windows glowing with yellow light.
Bella's breath came in short, shallow gasps.
You can do this. You have to do this.
They reached the front door.
Bella raised her hand and knocked.
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then the door swung open.
A man stood in the doorway—mid-thirties, heavily tattooed, with a cigarette dangling from his lips. He looked them up and down, his expression shifting from surprise to amusement.
"Well, well," he said, grinning. "Did someone order some hookers?"
Laughter erupted from inside the house.
Mara's jaw tightened. "Fuck you, asshole. We're not hookers."
The man's grin widened. "Could've fooled me. Three pretty girls showing up at this hour? What else am I supposed to think?"
"We're here to see Bron," Hela said, her voice cold and steady.
The man's smile faded slightly. "Bron doesn't meet with strangers."
"He'll meet with us," Bella said.
"Yeah? And why's that?"
Hela stepped forward, her eyes locked on his. "Because if he doesn't, he's going to lose everything. His life. His position. Everything."
The man's expression darkened. His hand moved to his waistband, where Bella could see the outline of a gun.
"You threatening him?"
"We're giving him a choice," Hela said. "He can talk to us now, or he can deal with the consequences later."
The man stared at them for a long moment. Then he turned his head and shouted into the house. "Yo! Get some boys up here. We got visitors."
Heavy footsteps echoed from inside.
Three more men appeared—bigger, meaner-looking. One of them grabbed Bella's arm roughly, yanking her forward.
"Hey—" Mara started.
Another man grabbed her, twisting her arm behind her back. "Shut up."
Hela didn't resist as the third man gripped her shoulder and shoved her inside.
They were dragged through the house—past a living room filled with men drinking and playing cards, past a kitchen that smelled like weed and stale beer. Up a narrow staircase with peeling wallpaper.
Bella's heart was pounding. Her arm ached where the man was gripping it.
Stay calm.
They reached a door at the end of the hallway. One of the men knocked.
"Bron. Got some girls here who say they need to talk to you."
"I'm busy," came the voice from inside.
"They say it's urgent. Life or death."
A pause. Then: "Bring them in."
The door opened.
Bron was sitting on the edge of his bed, shirtless, a glass of whiskey in his hand. He looked up as they were shoved inside, his expression shifting from annoyance to confusion.
"Who the fuck are you?"
Bella stepped forward, shaking off the man's grip. "We need to talk. Alone."
Bron's eyes narrowed. "I don't talk to strangers. Especially not ones who show up at my house uninvited."
"You're going to want your men out of the room for this," Hela said.
Bron laughed—a short, bitter sound. "You think you can just walk in here and make demands? You're either brave or stupid."
"We're neither," Bella said. Her voice was steady now, her fear replaced by cold determination. "We're just people who know things you don't want anyone else to know."
Bron's smile faded. He set down his glass and stood. "If you're playing some kind of game, you're going to regret it."
Bella pulled out her phone and held it up.
On the screen was a photo—Bron and Vivian inside the hotel room, just before leaving. She was pressed against the door, his hand cupped around her face as they kissed deeply. His other hand was at her waist, possessive. Her lips were parted, her eyes half-closed. The image was intimate. Devastating.
Bron's expression went blank.
"Where did you get that?"
"Does it matter?" Bella said.
Bron's jaw tightened. He looked at his men, then back at Bella. "Get out. All of you."
"Boss—"
"I said get out."
The men hesitated, then filed out of the room, closing the door behind them.
The moment they were gone, Bron lunged forward and grabbed Bella by the throat, slamming her against the wall.
"Where the fuck did you get that picture?"
Bella gasped, her hands clawing at his grip.
Hela moved instantly, her hand going to the knife at her belt. "Let her go."
Mara stepped forward too, her fists clenched. "Now."
Bron's eyes flicked between them. Then he released Bella, shoving her away.
Bella coughed, her hand going to her throat. "You want to see the rest?"
"The rest?"
Bella swiped on her phone and held it up again.
This time, it was a video.
Bron and Vivian in the hotel room. Kissing. Undressing. Fucking.
The audio was clear. Every moan. Every word.
"I'm going to be Kain's new step daddy."
"Give me a baby."
Bron's face went pale. "Jesus Christ."
"We have hours of footage," Bella said. "Every angle. Every word. Everything."
Bron staggered back, his hand running through his hair. "What do you want?"
"Jack."
Bron blinked. "Who?"
"The man in your butcher shop."
Bron's brow furrowed. "I don't know anyone named Jack."
"The one under the butcher," Bella said, her voice rising. "The one Kain's holding."
Realization dawned on Bron's face. "Oh. Him." He paused. "He never told us his name."
"Is he alive?" Bella's voice cracked.
Bron hesitated. Then he nodded. "Yeah. He's alive."
Bella's knees nearly buckled. He's alive. Jack's alive.
"What's your relation to him?" Bron asked.
"That doesn't matter," Bella said. "What matters is that you're going to help us get him out."
Bron laughed—a harsh, bitter sound. "You think I can just walk in there and take him? It doesn't work like that."
"Then make it work."
"I can't." Bron's voice was sharp. "Not all the men at the butcher shop are mine. Kain has his own people there. They're there 24/7, and they don't answer to me."
"Then find a way," Bella said. Her voice was cold. "Or I send this video to Kain."
Bron's face went white. "You can't—"
"I can. And I will."
Bron stared at her, his jaw working. Then he turned away, pacing the room.
"Fuck. Fuck." He ran his hands through his hair. "Alright. Alright, let me think."
He paced for another moment, then stopped. "I can tell my men to stand down. Let whoever you're bringing in pass through without interference. But Kain's men—they're not going to just let you walk out with him."
"How many?" Hela asked.
"Four, five maybe."
"Doable," Hela said quietly.
Bron looked at her, his eyes narrowing. "You're Hela. Markus's cuz."
Hela didn't respond.
"Of course you are," Bron said, shaking his head. "Of course Markus is involved in this."
Bella looked at Hela. "Is the plan workable?"
Hela nodded slowly. "If Bron's men stand down, we can handle four or five."
Bella turned back to Bron. "Then that's what you're going to do. Tell your men to let us through. We'll handle the rest."
Bron stared at her for a long moment. Then he nodded. "Fine. But if this goes sideways—"
"It won't," Bella said. "As long as you keep your word."
"And if I don't?"
Bella held up her phone. "Then this video goes to Kain. And to everyone else. I've already sent copies to multiple sources. If anything happens to us, it gets released automatically."
Bron's jaw tightened. "You're bluffing."
"Try me."
They stared at each other for a long moment.
Then Bron looked away. "When?"
"Tonight," Bella said.
"Tonight?" Bron's eyes widened. "That's not enough time—"
"Tonight," Bella repeated. "Or the video goes out now."
Bron cursed under his breath. Then he nodded. "Fine. I'll make the call."
***
Two hours later, they were parked outside the butcher shop.
The building was dark, its windows covered with grime and rust. A single flickering streetlight cast long shadows across the cracked pavement.
Markus sat in the driver's seat, his hands resting on the steering wheel. Behind him, six of his men were armed with blunt weapons—crowbars, bats, tire irons. Knives were strapped to their belts. Guns were tucked into waistbands, hidden under jackets.
Just in case.
Bella sat in the passenger seat, her hands clenched in her lap. Hela and Mara were in the back.
"You three stay here," Markus said, his voice low and firm.
"No," Bella said immediately.
Markus turned to look at her. "This isn't a negotiation."
"I'm going in," Bella said. Her voice was steady, but her hands were shaking. "Jack's in there. I'm not staying in the car."
"Bella—"
"I'm going."
Markus stared at her for a long moment. Then he sighed. "Fine. But you stay behind my men. You don't engage unless you have to."
Bella nodded.
Hela leaned forward. "I'm going too."
Markus looked at her. "Hela—"
"I'm not letting Bella go in alone."
Mara groaned from the back seat. "Fuck. Fine. I'm going too."
Hela glanced at her, a faint smile tugging at her lips. "Good."
Markus shook his head. "You're all insane." He turned to his men. "Alright. We go in quiet. Take out Kain's men fast. No noise unless we have to."
The men nodded.
"You three stay back," Markus pointed at three of his men. "In case this is a trap."
Bella's stomach twisted. A trap. What if it's a trap?
But she pushed the thought away. It doesn't matter. Jack's in there. I have to try.
They got out of the car.
The night air was cold, biting against Bella's skin. She could hear the distant hum of traffic, the faint sound of a dog barking.
Markus led the way, his men flanking him. Bella, Hela, and Mara followed close behind.
The front door of the butcher shop was unlocked.
Markus pushed it open slowly, the hinges creaking.
Inside, the air was thick with the smell of old meat and rust. The floor was stained with dark patches that could have been blood or grease or both.
A man stepped out of the shadows—one of Bron's men. He nodded at Markus, then pointed toward the back of the shop.
"Kain's men are in the cold room," he said quietly. "Four of them."
Markus nodded. "Stay out of the way."
The man disappeared back into the shadows.
They moved deeper into the shop, their footsteps echoing on the concrete floor.
The cold room was at the back—a heavy metal door with a rusted handle. Markus pushed it open.
The temperature dropped immediately. Bella's breath misted in the air.
The room was filled with hanging carcasses—skinned animals suspended from hooks, their flesh pale and glistening in the dim light.
But there were no men.
Bella's heart sank. "Where are they?"
Markus frowned, his hand moving to the gun at his waist. "Something's wrong."
Hela stepped forward, her eyes scanning the room. "This doesn't make sense. Bron said they'd be here."
Bella's eyes swept across the room—and then she saw it.
A trap door.
It was partially hidden beneath a stack of crates, but the outline was visible in the concrete floor.
"There," Bella said, pointing.
She didn't wait for Markus to respond. She sprinted forward, shoving the crates aside and yanking the trap door open.
A staircase led down into darkness.
"Bella, wait—" Hela started.
But Bella was already running down the stairs, her heart pounding in her chest.
Jack. Jack's down here. He has to be.
She reached the bottom and shoved open the door.
The room was small, windowless, lit by a single bare bulb.
And it was empty.
Bella's breath caught in her throat.
There was blood. Splattered across the walls, pooled on the floor. An empty chair sat in the center of the room, ropes hanging from its arms. Torture tools were scattered across a metal table—pliers, knives, a blowtorch.
But no Jack.
"No," Bella whispered. "No, no, no—"
Hela and the others came down the stairs behind her, their footsteps echoing.
"Jesus," one of Markus's men muttered.
Bella's knees buckled. She sank to the floor, her hands covering her face. "He's not here. He's not fucking here."
Hela crouched beside her, her hand on Bella's shoulder. "We need to move. Now."
"But Jack—"
"We'll find him," Hela said firmly. "But something's wrong. This was a setup."
Bella forced herself to stand, her legs shaking.
They turned and headed back up the stairs.
Bella went first, her mind spinning. Where is he? Where the fuck is he?
She reached the top of the stairs and stepped into the cold room.
And then—
WACK.
Pain exploded across the back of her head.
Her vision went white. Her legs gave out.
She heard Hela shout—then another impact, another cry.
Bella hit the ground hard, her cheek pressing against the cold concrete.
The last thing she saw before the darkness took her was a pair of boots stepping into view.
Then nothing.