Chapter 97: Possessive Instincts
Noah’s POV
God forbid I ever become a stalker. Stalking is pathetic and completely unhygienic. I’ve always despised men who track people down like animals, lurking in corners like cowards. But the very second it involves my brother? Every moral boundary I ever built just evaporates into thin air. I don’t give a single damn about ethics anymore. This isn’t stalking. This is protection. This is watching over my fragile, gullible brother and monitoring his every single move before someone takes advantage of him.
And right now, those moves included watching him step right through the front entrance of the Phoenix Club.
I sat inside my car, the engine idling silently in the dark alleyway across the street. My fingers gripped the leather steering wheel so hard my knuckles turned white. My eyes were glued to the heavy glass doors of the building.
I told myself to wait. I told myself to be patient. I assumed he was just stopping by to check on that goth girl from his university... Raven. Those two had been hanging around each other way too much lately, and given the chaotic nightmare with her missing sister, it made sense that Micah would be worried.
Five minutes passed. Then ten minutes.
My darling Micah wasn’t coming back out.
A dark, suffocating wave of anxiety flared up in my chest, making my pulse hammer wildly against my throat. What the hell was he doing in there? What could possibly be keeping him this long in a place like that? My mind immediately spiraled into worst-case scenarios. Was he hurt? Was someone cornering him? Was he talking to someone he shouldn’t be?
Should I hack into the club’s CCTV security network and check on him?
Fuck me. What kind of stupid question was that? Of course I was going to hack it.
I reached into the back seat, grabbed my laptop from my bag, and flipped the screen open. My fingers flew across the keyboard with speed. I booted up my private network, bypassed the standard firewalls, and immediately dialed my butler on a secured line.
The line picked up on the second ring. "Master Noah. How would you like me to assist you tonight? Is there a problem with—"
"Get me full administrative access to the Phoenix Club’s internal security feeds," I commanded, my voice cold, sharp, and utterly devoid of patience. "Immediately!"
There was a brief pause on the other end. "Is there perhaps a problem, sir? A lead regarding Bernard Miller’s movements, or perhaps—"
"No. Nothing about Bernard," I interrupted, my brows furrowing tightly as my chest tightened with raw fear. "I think Micah might have been kidnapped."
"Oh... Oh dear God, sir! I’ll bypass their firewalls instantly!" the butler gasped, his tone shifting into full emergency mode.
He disconnected the call. Honestly, I wasn’t even sure if Micah had actually been kidnapped or if I was just losing my mind from panic, but why the fuck wasn’t he coming out of that building?!
Within forty seconds, my laptop screen flickered, overriding the club’s regional servers and populating with live video feeds from dozens of cameras installed across every corridor, elevator, and hall inside the Phoenix Club.
I squinted at the high-definition feeds, my heart pounding violently against my ribs as I scrubbed backward in the timeline to the exact moment Micah stepped through the front entrance.
I tracked his movement frame by frame. I watched him walk toward the VIP elevators. I watched a French-looking guy with luxury shopping bags step into the elevator cabin right beside him. My jaw clenched so hard my teeth ached. Who the hell was that bastard? Why was he standing so close to my Micah?
I watched the elevator ascend to the upper floors. Micah stepped out, walked down a private corridor, and reached a massive set of double doors. A woman in a sharp suit met him there, speaking with him for about two minutes. I breathed out a harsh sigh, assuming he was just asking about Raven or Sunny and that he would turn around and leave right after.
Instead, the woman led him straight down another private hallway and ushered him into a massive, luxurious dressing room.
What the fuck was going on?
Ten minutes later, my entire world shattered.
I watched the camera feed as my darling brother stepped out of the changing room. He was wearing a gown. A gorgeous, elegant dress paired with a soft fur shawl that hugged his slender frame perfectly.
A violent spike of explosive rage ripped through my entire chest, so hot and sudden it felt like my blood was boiling alive inside my veins. Blood rushed to my head, blinding me with anger. Who dared put him in that outfit?! Who dared try to turn my innocent, pure brother into some club host for wealthy bastards to stare at?!
And yet, as I stared at the screen, my heart slammed against my ribs for an entirely different, darker reason. A heavy heat pooled low in my gut. My dick twitched violently inside my pants at the mere sight of him looking so breathless, so stunning, and so utterly vulnerable in that dress.
God damn it.
I ran my fingers aggressively through my dark hair, gripping the strands hard enough to hurt. I felt like I was losing my mind. I should have put a leash on him days ago. I should have locked him inside my apartment, chained him to my bed, and hidden him away from the rest of the world. That was the only way he would ever be safe. That was the only way he would belong entirely to me, seeing no one else’s face but mine.
I slammed the laptop screen shut, threw it into the passenger seat, and unbuckled my seatbelt. My hands were shaking with a terrifying mix of possessive lust, burning anger, and... desperation.
I fired off a quick text to my butler: Keep monitoring every feed inside the building. Send direct alerts if anyone touches him.
I threw the car door open and stepped out into the night air.
I didn’t care about stealth anymore. I didn’t care about staying hidden in the shadows. I was going inside that club, and I was dragging my brother out of there by force if I had to.
I stormed towards the main glass doors of the Phoenix Club. The moment I crossed the threshold towards the entrance, the security guards and crowd instantly recognized my face.
"Wait... is that Noah Miller?!"
"Oh my God, it’s him! The hockey star!"
"Noah! Over here!"
Screams erupted from groups of dressed-up women standing near the lounge entrance, their eyes wide with desperate excitement as they tried to push toward me. A hockey god. A celebrity. I ignored every single one of them, the icy look on my face made the security team back away in fear. Pathetic, desperate parasites. I couldn’t care less about their noise. The only person in this entire godforsaken building who mattered to me was Micah.
I strode straight toward the central reception desk, my long strides cutting through the crowd.
The young receptionist behind the counter blinked in surprise as I slammed my hand down on the marble surface.
"I need your ID, sir, and you’ll have to subscribe for an official membership card before accessing the private floors," she said, her voice trained to sound sweet and professional.
A membership card? Is that seriously how this underground den operated? Tiered access based on how much money someone was willing to throw at them?
Smart. A bloody brilliant business model for a criminal ring. A dark, bitter grin almost touched my lips, but my rage quickly smothered it.
"What is the highest tier card you have?" I demanded, my voice dropping into a low, uncompromising threat.
The receptionist’s eyes instantly beamed with greed. "That would be our Black Card, sir," she replied, quickly glancing down at her terminal screen. "It grants unrestricted access to all private lounges, VIP suites, and executive areas. However, it requires an upfront deposit of fifty million dollars."
Fifty million dollars?
The bastard running this place wasn’t just a club owner; he was an absolute extortionist thief. But fifty million was pocket change to me. I would pay fifty billion without a second thought if it meant standing at the highest rank, tearing down every door in this building, and taking my Micah back where he belonged.
Without saying a single word, I reached into my coat, pulled out my solid titanium black card, and slammed it down onto the marble counter right in front of her face.
The metallic clink echoed sharply.
The receptionist looked down at the card, read the name, and instantly froze. Her breath hitched in her throat. She sprang out of her chair so fast her knees slammed against the desk, her face draining of all color.
"S-Sir Miller!" she stuttered, stumbling over her own feet as she frantically processed the transaction. "P-Please... allow me to personally escort you up to the CEO’s office!"
She scrambled out from behind the counter, bowing her head repeatedly as she led me toward the private VIP elevator corridor. She looked utterly ecstatic, practically glowing with excitement.
I felt a quiet flare of cold pride rising in my chest. A dark grin crossed my face. She was probably losing her mind because it was her first time seeing someone throw down fifty million dollars for a Black Card without even blinking an eye. Money bought power, and power bought access.
Well, that’s exactly what I thought... right up until she opened her big blabbermouth.
"I honestly can’t believe it," she chattered happily as we stepped into the VIP elevator. "Two different people applying for the Black Card on the exact same night! What an incredible coincidence!"
I froze dead in my tracks.
The temperature in the elevator cabin dropped to sub-zero instantly. I slowly turned my head, my brows furrowing tightly as my eyes locked onto her with terrifying intensity.
"Two?" I asked, my voice low, sharp, and deadly. "Was there someone else before me tonight?"
Before she could answer, the elevator doors slid open with a soft chime at the top floor.
I was instantly welcomed by a wall of four towering, heavily armed men in black tactical gear. They didn’t move to draw their weapons, but their hands rested heavily on their holsters. The receptionist nervously led me past them down the quiet, carpeted hallway toward a pair of massive double doors.
She stepped forward and knocked twice on the dark wood.
My mind was racing. Someone else bought a Black Card right before me tonight? Was this club really that famous among ultra-wealthy bastards? Or was someone else hunting down the exact same prey I was?
The heavy door clicked open.
The receptionist bowed and gestured for me to enter. I stepped through the threshold, my eyes sweeping over the space with cold, lethal precision.
The CEO’s office was massive, modern, and extravagantly beautiful, lined with floor-to-ceiling glass windows overlooking the glittering city skyline. Sitting behind a grand mahogany desk was the owner—a dangerously handsome... No, beautiful, effortlessly calm man who could only be Phoenix.
And sitting directly across from him in a leather armchair...
A tiny, ragged breath escaped my lips. I shook my head in utter, bitter disbelief.
I should have known. I should have fucking known from the very beginning.
"Hey there, Captain!" a smooth, arrogant voice called out.
Damon. Fucking. Silver.
The bastard was sitting there with his legs crossed, a cocky, insufferable smirk plastered across his face, sipping from a glass of vintage whiskey.
He had beat me here. He was already inside, pulling moves to get to Micah before I could even step foot on the floor.
A wave of pure, unadulterated murder washed over my soul.
’I’m going to kill this guy tonight,’