NOVEL NEXT Chapter 684: Lila's Hell Revealed
The descent from the third floor felt like slipping out of one world and into another—slow, disorienting, each step pulling me further from the quiet haze upstairs.
My shirt hung half-buttoned, skin still alive with Lila's scent: jasmine laced with sweat, bourbon, and that indefinable warmth that was only hers. It lingered on me like a secret I wasn't ready to wash away.
My lips were tender, swollen from hours of her mouth on mine. My fingers remembered the curve of her back, the way her nails had dug in when she came undone.
The afterglow wrapped around me, heavy and golden, even as the muffled thump of bass grew louder, closer, until it vibrated in my chest.
Lila had let me go with a slow, knowing smile—those ice-blue eyes flashing with mischief.
"Give me a little time, Eros," she'd whispered, tracing my jaw with one finger. "I have something for you."
I'd kissed her once more—deep, lingering, tasting the last trace of bourbon on her tongue—before forcing myself to leave her in the moonlit ruin of sheets and scattered clothes.
The moment I hit the main floor, the party slammed into me: heat, noise, bodies packed tight under strobing neon. Liquor glistened on marble like spilled jewels. The air was thick—weed, sweat, perfume, the metallic edge of too many people chasing the same high.
I moved through it all like a ghost, ignoring the hands that grabbed at me: glitter-dusted girls in barely-there dresses, guys shouting my name over the music, phone flashes popping like cheap fireworks.
Then I saw Ava.
She was magnificent in her collapse—sprawled in the center of the dance floor, surrounded by Amber and the rest of her golden entourage. Drunk beyond saving, and somehow more beautiful for it.
Her black lace bra had slipped, one strap dangling off her shoulder. Hair wild and damp, clinging to her neck in dark ropes. Eyes unfocused, lips parted, words tumbling out in a soft, sloppy cascade of languages.
"Mi rey… mon amour… vem aqui, por favor…"
She reached for me the second she sensed I was near, fingers grasping air until I pushed through the circle and caught her.
Aber laughed, giving Ava a playful shove into my arms. "She's been calling for her Beach King all night."
The other girls pressed in—Melissa, Sina, the tiny brunette whose name still escaped me—hands sliding over my arms, voices low and teasing.
"Dance with us, Eros," Melissa murmured, lips brushing my ear. "Or we can skip the dancing. We're very… accommodating."
I shook my head, gentle but final. "Another night, maybe."
Ava melted against me the instant I pulled her close, head dropping heavy onto my chest, arms winding around my waist like she'd never let go.
"Eros…" she breathed, the word slurred and warm against my skin. "Baile comigo…"
The track shifted—slow, liquid R&B sliding under the chaos—and we swayed. No real dancing, just a lazy, intimate rhythm, bodies pressed together like we were the only two people in the room.
She burrowed closer, cheek to my heartbeat, fingers drifting up to trace the faint red lines Lila had left across my shoulders.
"Você tá cheirando ela…" she mumbled, a drunken giggle rising. "Smell like… her perfume. My queen's gonna be so jealous…"
I smiled into her hair, pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "You're still my favorite storm, Ava."
She made a soft, contented sound and went liquid in my arms, hips moving slow against mine, trusting me to hold her up.
The pack hovered on the edges, pouting, trying to wedge themselves back in. I didn't notice. Didn't care. There was only Ava's warmth, the familiar weight of her, the way she fit like she'd always belonged there.
Then the music cut out abruptly.
Silence rushed in, sharp and unnatural, broken only by scattered laughter and the clink of glasses.
The music didn't fade—it died. Snuffed out mid-beat, as if someone had ripped the plug from the wall.
A collective inhale swept the room. Phones dipped. Bodies stilled. The air thickened, heavy with the sudden absence of sound and the prickling sense that something ugly was about to spill into the open.
My instincts flared, sharp and cold.
I looked up.
On the second-floor balcony that ringed the foyer, two figures stood beneath the blood-red wash of emergency LEDs.
Dex—shirtless, skin gleaming with sweat, Rolex catching the light like a warning—leaned hard over the railing. A half-empty bottle of Cristal swung from his fingers. His eyes were red-rimmed, pupils blown wide, voice raw and slurred but carrying effortlessly in the stunned silence.
"WHO THE FUCK GAVE YOU PERMISSION TO LEAVE YOUR ROOM?"
Ice slid down my spine.
Lila faced him with her back to the drop, white lace robe luminous against the dark, tied loosely enough that it threatened to slip.
Her posture was perfect—spine straight, chin high—but even from down here I could read the tension in her: the faint tremble in her knuckles as they gripped the railing, the way her bare feet shifted for balance.
No. Not this. Not here.
"I gave myself permission," she said. Her voice was clear, almost calm, but I heard the fracture beneath it—the one only someone who'd memorized her sounds in the dark would catch.
The crowd stirred, confusion giving way to curiosity. Phones rose again, slower this time, lenses hungry.
"You don't get to give yourself anything!" Dex barked, laughter twisting his mouth into something cruel and wet. "This is my house. You're my—"
"Your house," Lila interrupted, quiet but cutting. "Your rules. Your cage."
Whispers rippled outward like rings in water.
"Oh my God… is he for real?"
"Who is that girl?"
"I think she lives here."
"Like… lives here lives here?"
Dex slammed the bottle against the railing. Glass shattered in a glittering arc. Champagne rained down, sparkling as it fell, pattering onto marble and bare skin below. A girl close to the splash zone yelped. No one moved toward the exits.
Ava stiffened in my arms, the fog of alcohol burning off fast. "Eros… what's happening?"
"Nothing love, let's see," I murmured, not looking away from the balcony. Every muscle in me was wire-tight.
"Third floor. Locked door," Dex slurred, jabbing a finger at her. He swayed, oblivious to the hundreds of eyes and recording phones now fixed on him. "That's where you stay when I have people over. You know the fucking rules."
The truth landed like a slap. Understanding spread in waves—shock, disgust, pity.
"Oh shit," someone nearby breathed. "He keeps her locked up?"
"That's messed up."
"Somebody should call the cops."
"Good luck. His family owns half the department."
Lila lifted her chin higher. "I know the bruises those rules come with."
The foyer went tomb-still. Even the dripping champagne seemed louder, each drop a gunshot on marble.
Behind me, Aber whispered, "Jesus Christ… he hits her?"
Melissa's voice cracked. "Those marks we saw on her… I thought they were… I didn't think…"
Dex lurched a step closer, face purpling. "You don't talk to the guests, Lila. You stay upstairs. Out of sight. You're mine."
"I'm not a fucking painting you hang on the wall and forget," Lila shot back, voice finally breaking into something fierce and trembling. "I'm not your secret anymore."
Dex's hand twitched, rising as if to grab her.
"You're whatever I say you are."
Dex took another step toward her, the broken Cristal bottle still dangling from his fingers like a threat. "Now tell me—who opened that fucking door?"