Page 193 of Code Bound
But the brothels in Dross still felt somehow like the girls had some semblance of control. I’ve known many women and men who worked in a brothel to get their feet under them and then moved on to other things. It doesn’t feel like that’s an option here.
“You said it’s not consensual,” I murmur to Havoc, meeting his eyes.
He nods. “The working girls wear collars to nullify their Glitch abilities.”
“Like the one the Rat Queen put on Locke?”
“Exactly,” Havoc agrees. “This safehouse used to just be a shitty hotel, but when Madam Polly moved in and turned it into the Disorderly hotel, it changed forever. The working girls are just players who trusted a little too easily, who found their way to this safehouse by chance and couldn’t ever leave.”
“And they can’t leave if they want to?” I ask, anger growing in my chest. “They’re prisoners?”
“They cannot leave unless Madam Polly lets them,” Havoc answers. “And in the decade I’ve been here, I’ve never known her to. The girls who end up here, die here.”
My fingers clench so tight, my bones in my hand pop. But I’m not prepared for the utter calmness I find on Locke’s face. He’s staring at the matching brand all the women seem to have burned into their skin on their hip, his face tracing over each girl in the room, picking them out.
“We can’t remove the collars,” I growl.
“No,” Havoc agrees. “And if you commit any act of violence, you’ll be transported into a random part of the Harrow, usually the worse place possible. It’s how Madam Polly has managed to keep this going.”
“How does she get the collars on them without violence?” I ask. “How is collaring them not an act of violence itself?”
Havoc shrugs. “Ask Cipher.”
I don’t have to. He pipes up at the mention of his name. “My domain is the Harrow, yes, but while I can control NPCs to some extent and direct them, I cannot do the same for players. The woman who has moved into this safehouse and taken it over is a player. All of the women who are trapped here are also female players. As long as she gets the collar around their neck without a fight, the safehouse will not respond, as it is not a violent takeover. She often resorts to the use of drugs dropped into their drinks. I would suggest not accepting any beverage from the waiters.”
“But she’s taking their freewill with force,” I argue.
“Yes, but unfortunately, Madam Polly has found the loophole that allows her to continue her business. While there are two NPCs who are running this safehouse, they are only capable of so much. The first room you passed through is where you will find them. They do not enter this part of the safehouse, as this was intended for players only.”
“You can’t change things?” I ask. “You can’t force her out?”
“No,” Cipher admits. “I am not whole enough to cause change.”
My brows furrow. “Whole enough? What does that mean?”
But our conversation is interrupted by the sight of a new woman appearing from a doorway. While all the women in the room are in various stages of undress, this woman is not. She wears an extravagant, sparkly dress and the white fur of some sort of animal wrapped around her shoulders. She’s smoking a tobacco stick as she walks in and studies the room. When her eyes land on us, a wicked smile pulls at her expertly painted lips.
“Welcome to my Disorderly Hotel, players!” she gushes as she strides toward us. “Havoc,” she purrs as she focuses on him first. “It’s wonderful to see you again. Still grumpy, I see.” She reaches out and tries to touch Havoc, but he takes a step back. “Oh, extra grumpy,” she coos, and then focuses on me. “Have you brought me a new girl?”
I narrow my eyes on her, my nails digging into my palm to keep from decking this woman right in that pretty face.
“No, Polly,” Havoc says. “We’re here for a room and food. Nothing more.”
She pouts out her lip. “You won’t be partaking this time?—”
“No,” Havoc growls, cutting her off.
But I’d heard the words. I cut my eyes sharply to Havoc who has the foresight to wipe his expression clean.
Polly hums and turns her gaze to Locke. Her eyes latch onto the barcode tattoo on his face and she flashes her teeth at him. “Are you here to taste what it’s like on the other side, player?”
Locke remains calm, but I see the tick of a muscle in his jaw. “Maybe I am,” he says. His words are even, but they’re perfectly picked. “Maybe I’m interested in what it takes to get a night with you instead.”
My chest tightens, but I keep my expression wiped clean. I don’t own Locke. We’re not together. He can do whatever he wants.
“What the fuck is he doing?” Svetlana hisses, offended for me.
But it’s not like we’re a thing. We haven’t even kissed. It’s silly to feel like I have some sort of claim on the man.
