DEVIL:
"For the fourth time, stop squirming and just follow me," I grunted as Ana wriggled uncomfortably on my shoulder. Her hands were tied, leaving her only able to grunt and huff while I carried her upstairs.
"Then let me go, asshole!" she snapped, her voice dripping with fury.
"Never."
Right now, I had two dead bodies in my living room, a kid in the house, an important piece of information that could get me closer to my goal, and then... there was her. The bane of my existence. Throwing her over my shoulder wasn't a challenge. Carrying her upstairs wasn't either. But what the hell was I supposed to do when her soft breasts pressed against me, sending my blood rushing south? I could ditch the mission right now just to fuck her senseless.
I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and put her down in her room.
"What? You're just going to lock me up in here now?" she snapped, her eyes blazing with a mix of panic and pure irritation.
I shrugged. "Well, yeah."
Her mouth fell open. "And you think David and my father won't come looking for me?"
I sighed, adjusting my cuffs like this was just another tiresome chore. "For starters, your father wouldn't dare. Not when he's got an election to win. Last thing he wants is people knowing his precious daughter is missing. And David?" I smirked as her hands clenched into fists. "He'd make a great cop... if only he could take that stick out of his ass long enough to think straight."
She glared at me, fire in her gaze, but I ignored it. "So yeah, I'm locking you up. And no, I'm not letting you out. Because out there? It's a fucking war zone. And you? You're the prize."
Her chest heaved, hands still bound. "This is insane. I'm safer at home than I am here with you, you absolute dickhead."
I smirked, stepping closer, letting my gaze drop to her lips. "Yeah? Well, my patience has limits. Keep calling me names, Estrellita, and I might just have to find a better use for that smart mouth of yours."
Her lips parted—whether to argue or gasp, I wasn't sure. Her cheeks turned a deep shade of red. Fucking cute.
I turned to leave when she suddenly called out, "Wait."
Without turning back, I stood still, waiting for her to speak. Because the longer I looked at her, the more likely I was to cave into whatever she wanted.
"What if I behave? Will you take me with you?"
I frowned, finally turning toward her.
"And... and I promise I won't cause trouble. It's just that... I want to be with Lara right now, and I..."
"Shh... I know you're scared to stay here alone, and you're making up excuses just to be with Lara. But trust me, this isn't like our usual dates or joyrides, Ana. This could be dangerous—life-threatening. I can't risk taking you."
"And you think Lara can handle herself, but I can't?"
"The only reason Lara is coming with us is because this involves her family. She wants to be there when we..." I trailed off before sighing. "Besides, you're still on edge, and if you see more blood, you'll have a panic attack. So stay here with Amara while we handle things quickly."
My eyes flickered to the small box on the bed. "In the meantime, why don't you figure out how to open that? The guards will be here, and... you have my number. Call me if you need anything."
I saw the moment she realized she wasn't coming with us. Defeat flickered in her expression, but... there was something else. Concern?
"Just... just be careful, okay?" she muttered.
I stopped, smirking to myself before looking over my shoulder. "Is my little Estrellita finally worried about me?"
She huffed, but the blush creeping up her neck said everything. Then she slammed the door in my face, and all I could do was smile like an idiot.
Mark, Lara, and I slipped through the back door while Rio, Jaden, and Raven took the front. From the outside, the mansion looked deceptively normal. But beneath it lay a sprawling underground elite club—one that connected the entire city's filth in a web of drugs, alcohol, and flesh. Women were drowned in money, traded like currency. And at the heart of it all sat Abby Garcia.
Lara's mother.
"Babe, are you sure you wanna do this?" Mark asked cautiously, his voice laced with concern.
Lara didn't flinch. "I've never been more sure of anything in my life."
The club had a three-step security system. Outsiders could only enter with an old reference—just enough access to get a taste but never the real poison. The second level was the lounge, a playground for the rich, where men indulged in drugs, alcohol, and sex like gods untouchable by law. But the third level—the VIP section—was where the real horror lurked.
It was where underage children were fed to monsters.
And that was exactly where we were headed. To find Abby and Russo. At least, that was the plan.
From our hidden vantage point, we watched as Russo and Abby reveled in their empire. A few men sat with them, laughing, drinking, finalizing deals. Briefcases were exchanged. The men stood up, smug, satisfied. Abby led them down a hallway, toward a door where a terrified ten-year-old child stood frozen in fear.
My fists clenched so hard my knuckles cracked. Every fiber in my body screamed to lunge forward, to rip their heads off their shoulders. But we had to wait. We had one shot at this. One moment to strike before the entire club knew we were here.
Jaden's voice crackled in my earpiece. "Security's down."
No more waiting.
I launched forward, my fist crashing into Russo's face, sending him staggering backward. It took him a second to process what was happening, but by the time he did, my next punch had already shattered his nose.
Jaden, Rio, Raven, and the others moved fast, storming the club, saving the innocents.
"Time to die, Russo!" I snarled, landing another brutal hit. He tried to dodge—failed. Blood oozed from his nostrils as I kept striking, blow after blow.
Abby barely had time to react before she bolted toward the exit. But Lara was faster.
Do or die.
I kept punching Russo until his face swelled, dripping in crimson. He gasped for breath, then lifted a trembling hand. Tapping out.
I stopped.
And then the bastard laughed. A sick, twisted sound, his bloodied teeth flashing in the dim light.
"You got the wrong guy." A cold wave crashed over me. I watched in horror as the man before me peeled back his face. Not his real face. A silicon mask.
He wasn't Russo.
"Fuck!" I grabbed him by the collar, shaking him violently. "Where the fuck is Russo?"
He only smirked, spitting blood at my feet. So I smashed his skull against the nearest table, silencing him forever. I whipped out my radio. "We got the wrong Russo. The fucker was a decoy!"
And then—click.
The cold kiss of metal pressed against the back of my head.
I knew before I even turned. Only one man would be arrogant enough to get this close.
Slowly, I faced him, meeting the familiar, smug, insufferable grin of Alessandro Russo. Dressed in a pristine Armani suit, a cigar lazily resting between his fingers. And, of course—ten men at his back.
"Coward," I mocked, my voice dripping with disdain. Thankfully, my mask hid the smirk curling on my lips.
Russo exhaled a thick cloud of smoke, his cigar glowing like embers in the dim light. "Well, right now, your life is in my fucking hands. So behave, little Devil."
His words slithered with amusement. "I expected to meet the real Devil, but this? What a fucking joke. You're just a boy. How old are you even?"
I tilted my head, my voice sharp as a blade. "Old enough to rip your head right off, Russo."
His smirk deepened. "Ohhh... angry young man." He taunted, his voice laced with mockery. "You know, I never really thought much about you. Not until you started messing with my business. Killing my nephew? Hunting my associates? And now you think you can step on my empire? That's not cool, Devil."
He took a step closer. The dim light flickered over the knife in his hand.
Slow. Calculated. He ran the blade down my mask... to my throat... then lower, pressing it against my chest.
And then—he drove it in.
Pain exploded through my ribs as I hissed, my body jerking instinctively. His men held me firm, their grips ironclad.
"Oh, I'm sorry. Did that hurt, little man?" Russo mocked, watching me with sick amusement. "I wonder... what kind of face hides under this mask? Imagine that. I get to be the first to unmask the infamous Devil. Think they'll give me a prize for my noble contribution to society?"
The knife twisted deeper. He knew exactly where my old wound was.
Blood seeped through my shirt, warm, sticky. The bastard was playing with me.
Russo leaned in, his voice a whisper against my ear. "You came here to kill me tonight, didn't you? But you never thought the tables would turn."
He pulled out his gun, pressing the barrel against my forehead.
I didn't flinch. Didn't move.
My voice was steady when I spoke. "The only way you get to kill me is knowing that I'll come back haunting you. Unless you're dead and rotting in some godforsaken hole, I will burn the Alpha Group to the fucking ground."
Russo chuckled, amused. He cocked the gun. And then—BOOM.
The entire room exploded.
Flames roared through the air, shaking the ground beneath us. Shattered glass rained like deadly confetti. The force of the blast sent Russo's men flying.
The gun slipped from his grasp.
And I?
I just wished to see my Estrellita once more before I died.