Ella’s POV
The brothel reeked of perfume so heavy it nearly strangled me to death. It's sweet, with cloying roses mixed with musk and cheap incense, like someone had tried to mask the stench of sweat, s*x, and despair but only made it worse. The curtains at the entrance were red velvet, you could hear the pulsing bass, see the neon lights bleeding across cracked pavement all around, and this place smells like the mixture of desperation from a lot of less privileged women.
Some women in short skirts are smoking outside as men slip them cash. But I knew what it really was. Behind all the glitter, behind the velvet curtains and smoke machines, this was a place where women were sold and bought.
Cyril walked beside me with his broad and proud shoulder up, he moved with so much authority eve
