Adult Industry System-Chapter 111

Chapter 111: Chapter 111
"What the fuck are you doing here?" I spat, the words coming out like jagged glass. My eyes didn’t stay on him; they flickered desperately toward the hallway, the kitchen, the bathroom door—anywhere Chloe might be hiding. The air in the room felt heavy, smelling of his cheap cigarettes.
​"What am I doing? What, you can’t see? I am chilling," Gingerbeard smiled, the expression never reaching his dead, grey eyes. He shifted his massive weight, the leather of my couch groaning under him as he made himself more comfortable, stretching his injured leg out with a wince.
​"Chilling at my place? How the fuck did you even get in here... and where’s Chloe? What the fuck did you do to her!" I barked, my voice cracking with a mix of exhaustion and pure, unadulterated terror. I started edgeing toward the end table, my fingers twitching.
​His eyes tracked my every vibration, calm and predatory. "I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Druski Hart."
​"Why not? You tried to kill me with that superslap last time," I snapped, my hand suddenly darting out and gripping the heavy brass base of the floor lamp. It was solid, weighted—enough to crack a skull if I swung it with everything I had left.
​"You got me shot too, remember? Debt is a funny thing," he warned, his voice dropping to a low, guttural rumble. "Put the toy down."
​"How did you break into my house?" I demanded, my knuckles white as I began to move toward him, the lamp raised slightly. I remembered this prick from the warehouse. I remembered offering him a stack of cash to let me go, only for him to pull out a lighter and watch the hundred-dollar bills curl into ash while he laughed. He wasn’t a man who cared about money; he was a man who cared about the hunt.
​"I said... put it down," he repeated, his movement so fluid it was a blur.
​In one heartbeat, he wasn’t "chilling" anymore. He reached into the breast of his grey suit and pulled out a suppressed semi-automatic pistol. The long, black barrel pointed directly at the center of my chest, steady as a rock.
​The adrenaline that had been keeping me upright suddenly turned into lead in my veins. I froze, the brass lamp feeling like it weighed a thousand pounds. I slowly, carefully, set it back on the floor, my hands up in a universal gesture of surrender.
​"Smart boy," he muttered, the toothpick in his mouth dancing as he spoke. "You have learned since the warehouse. Big Mom taught you well, but she didn’t teach you how to stop a .45 with your ego."
​"Didn’t she teach you not to break into people’s houses?" I shot back, though my voice lacked its usual iron. Every fiber of my being was screaming a single name. "Where the fuck is Chloe?"
​He watched me for a beat, savoring the terror vibrating off me, before he slowly tucked the pistol back into the silk lining of his suit. "Relax, man. I’m not here as an enemy. Not today, at least."
​"How did you get in here?" I demanded. My mind was racing, imagining him picking the lock or, worse, having a key I didn’t know about.
​He raised his massive, scarred hands with a mocking shrug. "I have my own ways. Double-O-Seven ways."
​"Why? Why are you here? Where is she? If you as much as laid a hand on her, I will—"
​"You will do nothing, boy," he snapped, his voice dropping into a dangerous register. His eyes pierced mine, cold and unblinking. I didn’t flinch. I held his gaze, my vision tunneling until all I saw was his weathered face. I meant it. In that moment, if he had hurt her, I would have torn the skin from his face with my bare hands. I would have crushed his bones into powder.
​Gingerbaerd stared back for a long second, measuring the sudden, dark shift in my energy. Then, he dropped his glance with a chuckle. "Impressive. You aren’t a coward like the last time I saw you. The ’scum’ has grown some teeth."
​"Why won’t you answer me, dammit!" I roared, my fists clenching so hard my knuckles popped like gunfire.
​"I didn’t touch your woman, Druski. She’s safe... for now," he said, the ’for now’ hanging in the air like a noose.
​I searched his face, looking for the faintest twitch, a glimmer of a lie, or the cruel spark of a man who had already committed a murder. "She’s safe. Trust me, Mr. Hart."
​"Where is she? Where the fuck is Chloe!"
​"Whoa, chill, bro. I don’t know," he said simply, leaning back and clearly enjoying the frantic, jagged state of my nerves.
​"What do you mean you don’t know!"
​"Why don’t you ask the lady inside there?" Gingerbeard gestured with a tilt of his head toward my bedroom door.
​"Where—?" I stopped. The sarcastic grin on his face made my stomach churn.
​"What the fuck is this? Some sort of prank? A sick joke?"
​"Go on," Gingerbeard encouraged, his voice a low, oily purr. "Go and find out."
​I started moving toward the bedroom door, my steps heavy and mechanical. My heart was thumping against my ribs so hard it felt like it would bruise. Was this a "reveal"? Had he left her body in there just to watch the moment I broke? I scanned the carpet for blood, the walls for signs of a struggle. Nothing. Everything looked exactly as I’d left it, which made the silence coming from the room even more terrifying.
​I looked back over my shoulder. Gingerbeard was still watching me, that predatory smile never leaving his face. He nodded once, a silent command. "Go on, Mr. Hart. Don’t be scared now. There is a big surprise on the other side of that door."
​I reached the door and stood there, my hand trembling as it hovered over the handle. I drew in a lungful of air, exhaled it slowly, and prayed to a God I hadn’t spoken to in years.
​I pushed the door open.