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He hadn’t been intercepting shipments toshut them down, he’d beenreroutingthem. Drugs, weapons, and worst of all—human lives. Instead of stopping crime, he hadbuilt his own empire from it.
Hunter had worked the case when two major shipments were hijacked on U.S. soil. A total oftwenty-six young women andthree billion dollars’ worth of drugs and specialized munitions had vanished into thin air. Hunter’s team had workedalongsideDemingo to recover what was stolen, only to realize, too late, that they were chasing aghost.
Nine women had been found. Small stashes of the drugs and munitions were recovered. Then three of the missing girls were dumped, their bodies mutilated, a note pinned to them:Back. The. Fuck. Down.
It had taken months for Hunter to see the cracks, and by then, he had come tome. I’d joined the mission to take Demingo down, and we hadalmostsucceeded. But just as we were closing in, just as we were exchanging fire with his men, a fireball erupted where Demingo had been standing.
We thought he’d beendouble-crossed. To be honest, we’d thought he wasdead, but after Perry’s snatching, we knew better. Theghostwas still walking. And if Store thought she meantanythingto him, she wasdead fucking wrong.
One by one, those of us whoknewDemingo shook our heads.
Store’s eyes darted around, panic setting in.
“No,” she whispered. “But… he told me… hesaid…” The crackssplitwide open. “He’s…”
Her voice broke, and her body shook. Tears welled up in her overly made up eyes, but I didn’t feel pity.
I felt satisfaction.
Moving behind her, I fisted her hair, yanking her head back until she had no choice but tolookup at me.
“Now,” I murmured, my voice eerily calm, “you’re going to answer the nice men and tell themeverythingthey need to know.”
She almost scalped herself with the ferocity of her nods.
Twenty minuteslater
The men were filing out, discussion murmuring between them. Store had given up everything shethoughtshe knew—worthless crumbs, just like we expected. Demingo had never trusted her. She was a pawn, disposable and insignificant, and she’d had nothing valuable to offer. Which meant—she was mine now.
I had been promisedthismoment with her, the deal had been clear. If I let her live, if I didn’tend herthe moment we realized she had been feeding intel back to Demingo, she would bemineto deal with.
And now, it wasmy turn.
I stepped forward, letting the carefully controlled malice bleed into my expression.
Store saw it.
She felt it.
Her whole body started shaking as she tried to shrink back.
“No,” she whimpered, shaking her head frantically. “No, no, no, please?—”
I grinned. She screamed for help, but no one would come.
“I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry.Sorry, sorry, sorry!” She was hyperventilating, stammering, babbling the same word over and over again.
How pathetic.
I crouched down, staring into her tear-streaked, terrified face.
“Oh, sweetheart,” I cooed mockingly, brushing a strand of hair from her face. Then my smile dropped. “Youwillbe.”
Her sobs turned into a broken, terrified wail.
And I drank ineverysecond of it.
Reaching for the knife on the table beside me, I pressed the tip against my fingertip, testing its sharpness. A satisfied hum escaped my lips as I felt the sting—a small bite of pain, just enough to confirm the blade was honed to perfection.