Page 113 of Dance With A Devil

Karter slides up beside me, smirking like he’s already seen the carnage. “When it’s time for the real festivities… trust me. You’ll know.”

He disappears into the crowd like smoke, his voice lingering in the air.

I tilt my head. “Until then, drink up. Dance. And if you haven’t already, try the herbal refreshments. Our latest blend makes your heartbeat feel like a war drum.”

Then I walk off. No mic drop. Just purpose.

Onyx finds me near the back bar, glass in hand, eyes tracking the chaos like a sniper. “That went well,” he says, his tone dry and deadly.

“It did,” I answer. “But I plan to up the stakes. Give them something they’ll never forget.”

He nods. “I’m in. Say the word.”

He drifts away, and Gage takes his place, silent, observant, always where I need him. I don’t have to explain anything. I just nod toward the main house. “Let’s go make sure our guests of honor are… prepped.”

We descend into the basement.

Our personal hell.

We call it a basement, but it’s a fucking altar built for pain. A place where secrets bleed and the truth screams. Lately, it’s been getting more use than the main house. Which, frankly, says a lot.

After Dash and Tucker brought us word about Chad and Kevin running their mouths, making plans, selling poison near our turf, it was clear. We don’t talk. Wedo.

They slipped. We struck. Simple math.

That’s the only lesson our fathers ever gave us worth keeping:Take what you want. Break what gets in the way.

The moment we hit the bottom step, I hear them, muffled begging, breathless sobs, promises too late to matter.

They’re pathetic now. Offers of loyalty. Bargains for mercy.

If they wanted to be on our side, they should’ve chosen it before they ended up in chains.

I kick open the chamber door and step inside, letting the heavy silence follow me.

They freeze. Wide eyes. Cracked lips. The blood’s already started to crust in places they can’t see. Good.

I glance at each one like I’m choosing cuts of meat. “Gentlemen,” I say with a razorblade smile, “if you’d allshut the fuck up,we could get this show started.”

Silence.

But their eyes, they scream. They curse me with everything they have left. I welcome it.

“If you don’t know why you’re here,” I murmur, walking past them like a priest reading last rites, “don’t worry. You’ll learn soon enough.”

I turn and walk away before my fingers twitch for a blade.

Because the best part hasn’t come yet.

Back at the party, the music hits harder. Dirtier. Like the floor itself is pulsing with menace. I cut through the crowd until I spotKarter, leaning against a bar cart like he owns the place, because he does.

“You get the ghostface masks handed out?”

He grins, lazy and lethal. “Does a Devil always get what he wants?”

“Damn right,” I growl. “Tell the boys to get the rats ready.”

He lifts his glass. “Time to turn this party into a fucking purge.”