She put an arm around Simone’s waist and, side by side, they walked into Kingsley’s house, Søren behind them. Inside Kingsley’s office, Nora kept her face calm and her expression neutral even as the women around her wept softly or whispered back and forth to each other in hushed tones. One young submissive named Nikki grabbed Nora’s hand, and Nora gave it a reassuring squeeze.

Mistress Irina rose from a chair, a look of barely controlled fury on her face. She and Nora exchanged meaningful glances—glances that said that whoever did this deed better pray the cops caught him before she and Nora did. Irina stood in the back next to Søren. Søren obviously wasn’t on staff, and even more obviously, wasn’t a woman, but the members of The 8th Circle considered him their spiritual leader as they considered Kingsley their earthly leader. Søren occasionally played with many of the submissives in the room, but never had sex with any of them. They trusted him and often sought his advice and comfort. As far as Nora knew, theirs was the only BDSM community with its own chaplain.

Kingsley entered his office a few minutes later with a grim look on his face. Voices exploded in questions at the sight of him, but Nora whistled hard and loud over the din.

“Quiet,” she said and the women of the room went silent. No one countermanded an order from The Red Queen, Nora’s Underground nickname.

“Merci,” Kingsley said, nodding in Nora’s direction. He stood at the edge of his desk surveying them all. “You’ve heard what has happened. Two weeks ago, Mistress Natasha left my employ and went to work on her own. I think many of you know her personally.”

Simone nodded against Nora’s shoulder. She knew Simone and Natasha were close.

“The first thing you all need to know is that she will live. She has a severe concussion and was unconscious when they found her. She’ll likely be in the hospital several days.”

“Where did they find her?” Nora asked, wanting to know all the details, wanting to know who to blame, who to punish.

“She’d been renting dungeon space at Black Forest. When Mr. Wolfe went to check on her at the end of her session, no one answered the door. He found her bleeding and unconscious on the floor. The dungeon had been destroyed. He called for help first. Then he called me.”

“Did Brad see anything? Hear anything?” Nora asked, making a mental note to call Brad Wolfe herself for more details.

“Non. He was with his own client at the time. And Mistress Natasha preferred to work alone.” Kingsley’s tone was neutral but Nora sensed the bitterness lurking under the words. He had been furious when Mistress Natasha had left the fold. He hardly cared about the 15 percent he took from each of her sessions. The money he made off his pro-Dommes and pro-subs was a drop in the bucket compared to the revenue from his nightclubs. No, what infuriated him was what he considered Natasha’s arrogant refusal to admit that the work she did was dangerous and required the protection of Kingsley’s security detail. “But Mr. Wolfe did always check on her after each session. It’s good that he did as he possibly saved her life.”