Darlow emerged from the bathroom, a satisfied grin on his face as he stared at the woman he had just ravished ferociously.

Romie lay sprawled across the luxurious silk sheets, her dark hair cascading over the pillows, her unclad body a testament to curves and elegance. She was unabashed as she stretched over the bed, her thick, Lebanese beauty on full display.

This was a sight that always stirred something primal within him. No surprise their period of passion had been ravenous enough to cause echoes of their session throughout the floor a few moments ago.

On the fifth floor of the building that housed the Duplex was the Floor of Lasciviousness. With many rooms for the gang boys to take in their girls – all provided by the Duplex’s trafficking activities – and carry out their desires, the name of the floor spoke for itself. The last place anyone with a semblance of innocence would want to find themselves was this floor. One was guaranteed to hear unbecoming sounds from any of the rooms.

One thing about the Duplex: not only did they live a criminal lifestyle, they also lived a lewd lifestyle, and unashamedly so.

The lustful smirk continued to play on Darlow’s lips as he approached her slowly. “Romie, Romie, Romie,” he slurred seductively. “You know, Romie, out of all the girls of the Duplex, have I ever told you you’re the one I favor the most?”

Romie, staring at him from the moment he called her name, rolled her eyes playfully, her laughter soft. “Oh, please, Darlow, I know you say that to all the other girls. You’re not fooling me, you know.”

Darlow shook his head, his tone insistent as his voice lowered to a husky whisper. “No, seriously, I mean it. There’s just something about you… something that keeps me coming back. Every fucking time. Aside how sexy you are, there’s this… magnet thing that always draws me back to you.”

She looked up at him, her eyes meeting his with a sparkle of mischief and sincerity. “Mmmm, I see. Maybe it’s because… I’ve always preferred you too. Over everyone else in this twisted little family of ours. Nobody else could pound me better than you do.”

Darlow’s smile widened, a genuine chuckle escaping him. “Why wouldn’t you prefer me? You know we go way back. First bitch to join the crew, throwing it back on me on that flight to Bangkok… we go way back, Romie.”

She smirked as she sat up. “Damn right, boo. You’re all I know, and you’re all I want to know. Don’t mind sharing you, but you’re all I want to know.”

“Hehe, don’t worry about that. I think everyone knows that’s sorted out for life. You’re mine and mine alone, babe.”

He reached for the pack of cigarettes on the nightstand, pulling one out and lighting it with practiced ease. He extended the pack towards Romie. “Cigarette?”

“Sure.” She took one, her fingers brushing against his in a familiar, affectionate gesture. She then leaned forward, allowing him to light it for her.

In no time flat, the room was filled with the strong scent of tobacco and nicotine as the two shared a smoke. They hardly spoke, simply smiling at each other and blowing into each other’s faces.

Suddenly, Romie’s phone vibrated to life on the nightstand. She glanced at the screen, and a giggle escaped her lips. “Oooooh! It’s Brianna,” she announced playfully, turning the phone towards Darlow.

Darlow raised an eyebrow, his smirk ever-present. “Let me guess, she’s calling to share details about how well Mr. Graham dicked her down tonight, right?”

Romie laughed, her eyes twinkling with amusement. “Maybe.”

“Make sure you tell her the dicking down you got was so legendary, squad on the first floor heard you moan.”

She giggled again. “Yes, please, honey.” She then swiped to answer the call. “Hey, Bri–“

Her laughter instantly faded as she listened to the sound on the other end. It sounded like Brianna was crying. Her expression shifted from light-hearted to concerned in an instant. “Brianna, what’s wrong?”

Darlow’s attention was instantly caught. He signaled to Romie to put the call on speaker, which she quickly obliged to.

The sound of Brianna’s sobbing was loud and clear. “We-we-we were attacked, Romie,” she managed between tears. “After, after we… after we had fun. These two beasts… they broke into my house, rushed into the room, beat us up… we’re at the hospital now.”

Romie’s face paled. “Oh my God, are you okay, babe? Is Mr. Graham…?”

“He’s hurt, badly, but he’s alive,” Brianna sobbed. “Please, Romie, I’m scared. I’m so scared right now…”

“Take it easy, Bri,” Darlow interjected, his earlier playful demeanor gone, replaced by the intensity of a man in command. “We’ll be on our way right now. Which hospital?”

“The one downtown,” Brianna replied. “Spring Hospital.”

“Got it. We’ll be there as soon as possible. See you.”

He rose to his feet, looking for his clothes as Romie ended the call and did same. “Let’s get moving,” he ordered, his protective instincts in full effect. “I’ll get Kofi notified and we’ll all go. You’ll go and see to Brianna, and Kofi and I will check up on Mr. Graham. We need to find out who did this.”

***

An hour later, Darlow, Kofi, and Romie entered Spring Hospital through the automatic doors, their expressions grim as they made their way through the brightly illuminated waiting area.

As they approached the reception desk, Romie spotted Brianna seated in the corner, her face buried in her hands. She pointed in her direction. “There’s Brianna. Brianna!”

Dressed in a blue tracksuit, Brianna’s cheeks bore fresh red marks, remnants of the slaps she’d endured earlier that evening. As soon as she looked up and met Romie’s gaze, her eyes welled up with fresh tears.

Romie rushed across the room in seconds and pulled her into a tight embrace. “Bri,” she whispered, her voice trembling with concern. “Oh, my God, how are you? Are you okay?”

Brianna nodded shakily, her voice soft. “I’m okay,” she sniffed. “They only slapped me. A lot, though. But Mr. Graham…” Her voice cracked, and she took a deep breath to steady herself. “He’s in bad shape, Romie. They’re treating him now.”

Darlow crouched slightly to meet Brianna’s eyes, his intense gaze steady but gentle. “We’re here now,” he stated firmly. “Can we see him?”

Brianna nodded. “He’s in Room 304. They said visitors are allowed now.”

Darlow straightened and glanced at Kofi, who nodded in silent agreement. “Romie,” Darlow ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument, “stay here with Brianna. She needs you.”

Romie nodded, holding Brianna close.

“Good.” He gestured to Kofi, and the two men turned toward the corridor leading to the patient rooms.

***

The door to Room 304 opened, and in stepped Darlow and Kofi.

Inside, Mr. Graham lay on the hospital bed, his face bruised and swollen. Bandages covered parts of his arms and chest, and a monitor beeped steadily beside him. He opened his eyes as the two men entered.

“Darlow. Kofi. You’re here,” he croaked as they moved over to his side.

Darlow’s expression as he approached the bed was a mix of sympathy and restrained anger. “Yeah, Mr. Graham. We’re here to help, as we ought to,” he confirmed. “But we need to know what happened. Who did this to you?”

Mr. Graham winced as he adjusted himself slightly on the bed. “I don’t know who they are. But… they were huge,” he muttered hoarsely. “Like… towers of muscle. Chale, they nearly pummeled the life out of me.” He paused, his brow furrowed in concentration. “The thing is… their statures. They looked very familiar. I’m still trying to remember where I’ve seen them before.”

“Mmmm. They were macho dudes, eh?” Kofi asked.

Mr. Graham nodded. “Burly niggas. Serious body. I know I’ve seen those statures somewhere.”

Darlow and Kofi stood by, thinking hard about who these guys could be.

A minute or two, and Kofi, arms crossed, suddenly let down his hands, a look of shock on his face. “Wait ooo. If they were two macho men, then… that sounds like… like Rex’s bodyguards.”

The room fell silent, as Darlow and Mr. Graham all exchanged tense glances, their expressions a mix of shock and unease.

Mr. Graham’s eyes widened, and a sudden realization dawned on his face. “Wait, wait. Now I remember… one of them… he called Brianna a ‘husband-snatcher’ after slapping her.” His voice was trembling now. “It… It probably is Rex. It’s his style: carrying out personal punishments for people. And this… this was personal. What the fuck, my wife hired him?! I don’t believe this, that useless bitch…”

Darlow stood there, barely hearing Mr. Graham’s descent into rage; he was full of it himself.

Wasn’t it a few days ago that we hoped this bastard would stay clear of us? And now he’s sent his goons to come and beat up our financier and one of our girls? What the fuck, man?

“Excuse me,” he said, his voice tight with restrained rage. “I need to make a call. Kofi, stay here with Mr. Graham.”

Without waiting for a response from either man, he strode toward the door, his fists clenched at his sides.

***

Five minutes and a few enquiries from others later, Darlow nodded with satisfaction as he looked at the number on his screen. He dialled it, and waited patiently for an answer.

Four rings in, and the line picked up.

“Bruschi here.”

Darlow took a deep breath. “Good evening. This is Darlow. Head of the Duplex. I believe we haven’t had the pleasure of speaking before.”

A low, indifferent chuckle came from the other end of the line. “That’s correct. And yet, here we are. What can I do for you?”

Darlow tightened his grip on the phone. “Well, I’m calling to address a matter of deep importance. My financier, Mr. Graham, and one of my girls, Brianna, were assaulted a few hours ago, and per our deductions, it’s your men that did it. Broke into the house and beat them up.”

A pause followed.

Rex’s voice returned, cold and clinical. “Well, I must admit, your deduction powers are stronger than I ever would have guessed. How accurate. Nice job, young man.”

Darlow’s jaw tensed, but his tone remained forcibly calm. “Rex Bruschi, I believe you’ll understand my curiosity as to why you’d make such a move, knowing full well the Duplex and Basilisk Garrison have always kept their distance from each other’s affairs.”

“It wasn’t about you, Darlow. It was never about you or the Duplex. It was business. Nothing more than that. Mrs. Graham approached me. It was clear she had a bone to pick with her husband and his… extracurricular activities. She wanted both him and the lady in question taught a lesson. I obliged. Simple as.”

Darlow’s clenched his teeth. “Business?” he repeated, his polite front cracking. “You actually thought it was wise to accept such a job, fully aware of Graham’s ties to me?”

“Listen, I didn’t think it wise or unwise. I thought it profitable. And it was.”

Darlow’s voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “Rex Bruschi, let me make this clear to you. You’ve stepped into my territory, and I don’t take kindly to such moves. You don’t hurt my financier or one of my girls and think nothing of it. Do you understand me?”

“First of all, nobody talks to me that way, so watch your fucking mouth! Secondly, you’re taking it way too personal, young man,” Rex snapped, his tone one of irritation. “This isn’t personal. It’s business. Business is business. And as far as I’m concerned, there’s nothing to regret. Tell your financier to go after his wife; she’s the one who ordered this. Good night.”

The click of the line dropping rang louder than any insult.

Darlow stared at the phone, his chest rising and falling with suppressed anger. Slowly, he placed it in his pocket and stared blankly at the hallway.

It was them. Rex hadn’t bothered to deny it. And worse still, he didn’t think anything of it, calling it business and scoffing at his anger. This man had some nerve!

All he wanted was to stay clear of Basilisk Garrison, but clearly they didn’t share the same view. Not a problem. If Rex wanted to go that route, he’d gladly oblige him, boot for boot. 

“This isn’t over,” he muttered to himself. “Not in the slightest. This isn’t over…”

Yeah, we probably expected it. This did not go down well with Darlow. Trouble is coming…