Page 46 of Dance With A Devil

“She doesn’t remember,” Cairo says, appearing behind them. “Because he drugged her. On the night it happened.”

Silence detonates inside my skull. My vision tints red. I feel every breath scrape like razors down my throat.

“Hedruggedher?” My voice is low. Deadly. “Tell me you’re fucking joking.”

“He did worse,” Cairo says. “There’s more.”

“Then fucking tell me!”

“He orchestrated the whole thing as part of a debt trade-off,” Niko says. “We followed him. He met with two men,power players. We couldn't get close, but the facial structure matches. One looked like Archie Houghton. The other, Desmond Meadows.”

Devils. Old ones. Fathers of my own brothers.

My blood goes cold.

I snap toward Niko. “You get pictures?”

He’s already pulling out his phone. A few swipes later, he turns it to me. The screen lights up with grainy shots of the three men in a private room, shoulders hunched in conspiracy.

Snatching the phone, I zoom in. "Yeah… that’s them. Those two have been off the grid for months. No doubt hiding in plain sight.”

Felix leans in. “They talked money. Losses. Something about your father owing not just them butothers. He called Athens his ‘golden ticket.’ A way to pay off his debts and buy back favor.”

“He sold her,” I whisper.

Cairo nods once. “Like property. Or worse. Like insurance.”

A silence falls heavy between us. A silence that tastes like blood.

I clench the phone in my fist. “And Dash?”

“He tapped the house,” Niko answers. “Said he’s piecing together more from the audio. Something about offshore accounts and old family bloodlines, but he wanted to be sure before dropping the full report.”

“He’s here tonight?”

“Somewhere. Probably still monitoring.”

“Good.” I stand, rage simmering just beneath my skin. “I’ll find him.”

I glance at them both. “You did good. Better than good. Go. Drink. Fuck. Burn off what you’ve learned.”

They nod, retreating, leaving me alone with the ghosts in my veins.

I stare down at the grainy photo again, at the face of my father, smiling like he hasn’t just condemned us all.

“What the fuck are you up to, Father?” I murmur, slipping the phone into my pocket.

Because whatever it is… It ends with blood.

Chapter Eight

Athens

The bass is already rattling the pavement before we even step inside. Bodies linger around the entrance, sweaty and swaying, the air laced with cigarettes, spilt vodka, and the kind of rumors that die in daylight.

It’s the kind of chaos I need. The kind that numbs everything else.

The moment we pass through the doors, it hits… Smoke, heat, musk, and lust, all packed inside a cage of strobe lights and pounding beats. Sandalwood clings to the air, tangled with lilac and sweat, every breath I take laced with sin.