Page 18 of Devil’s Embrace (31 Days of Trick or Treat: Biker & Mobster #10)

I guided Emory and Mina through the destruction of my home, past my men as they secured weapons, tended to our wounded, and removed the dead.

Blood pooled on marble floors that had known only polished shoes and quiet footsteps hours before.

Crystal fragments from the shattered chandelier caught the emergency lights, throwing distorted patterns across the walls like frozen lightning.

I kept Mina's face turned away from the worst of it, my hand gently cupping the back of her head as we navigated the aftermath of violence that would have been unimaginable to her before tonight. This went far beyond what she’d witnessed in the alley on Halloween night.

Antonio approached as we reached the east wing, his face grim but composed. "We've secured the perimeter, sir. No survivors among Mateo's men. Vincent's in critical condition but stable. The doctor's with him now."

I nodded, relieved Vincent had survived. I’d been certain he was dead. "And Mateo's body?"

"Being prepared for transport. Marco thought—" he glanced at Emory and Mina, lowering his voice—"the lake would be appropriate."

"See to it personally." I made the decision without hesitation. Mateo would disappear, as had so many of his enemies over the years. A fitting end.

Antonio's eyes flicked to the blood soaking my sleeve. "You need medical attention, sir."

"Later." I dismissed him with a slight nod, continuing to guide Emory and Mina toward the untouched sanctuary of my private quarters. The child had gone quiet, her small body trembling, blue eyes wide and haunted by what she'd witnessed. Some cuts went deeper than flesh.

Inside my suite, I directed them to the sitting area while I retrieved a medical kit from the bathroom.

When I returned, Emory had settled Mina on the sofa, murmuring soft reassurances as she examined the cut on her daughter's arm. Blood spattered the child’s unicorn pajamas—not hers, thankfully, but the sight of it against the pastel fabric twisted painfully in my chest.

"Let me.” I kneeled before them and opened the kit. Emory hesitated, her protective instinct warring with the recognition that I knew more about treating wounds than she did.

After a moment, she nodded, shifting slightly to give me better access to Mina's injury. I’d cleaned my hands thoroughly before touching the child, the stark contrast between my bloodied knuckles and the clear water a visual reminder of the worlds colliding in this room.

"This might sting a little," I told Mina. "But you're being very brave, and it will be over quickly."

The child's eyes locked on mine, searching for something—threat or reassurance, I wasn't sure. Whatever she found seemed to satisfy her, because she extended her small arm toward me with solemn trust.

I cleaned the cut with careful precision, the same hands that had ended lives now tending to this small wound with gentleness.

The contrast struck me—my bloodied fingers against Mina’s pale skin, the killer turned healer.

Emory watched in silence, her expression unreadable, her gaze fixed on my hands.

"There." I finished with a Hello Kitty bandage I found in the kit, likely left by Maria for just such a purpose. "All better."

Mina examined the bandage with the serious concentration only a child can muster. "Thank you."

I smiled—a real smile, not the cold facsimile I'd perfected over years of business negotiations. "You're welcome." I turned my attention to Emory. "Are you injured?"

She shook her head, but I noted the bruise forming on her cheekbone, the way she cradled her wrist. "I'm fine."

"You saved my life." I held her gaze. "When Mateo reached for his weapon. Your warning gave me the second I needed."

"I didn't think. I just... reacted."

"Sometimes those are the truest actions." I began cleaning my own wounds, the cut on my arm deeper than I'd realized. Adrenaline had masked the pain, but now it burned with each movement.

Emory watched for a moment, then wordlessly took the gauze from my hands. "Let me help you." Her tone made it unclear if this was an offer or a demand. Either way, I surrendered to her ministrations, sitting back as she cleaned and dressed the wound.

"My daddy used to get in fights. I learned early how to patch people up, even if I’m not as good as it as you probably are."

Mina's eyes had drooped, the adrenaline crash and emotional exhaustion taking their toll. She curled against her mother's side, her small body finally surrendering to sleep. I watched the child's face relax, marveling at the resilience of young minds, at their ability to find peace even amid chaos.

"She should rest." I rose to my feet. "You can stay here. It's the most secure room in the compound."

Emory nodded, gently stroking Mina's hair. "What happens now?"

I moved to the bar cabinet, pouring two glasses of whiskey. Handing one to Emory, I took the armchair across from her. "Mateo's death changes things. There will be questions, power struggles. The other families will see opportunity."

"And us?" Her fingers tightened around the glass. "Mina and me?"

I considered my words carefully, wanting her to understand the commitment I was making. "You're under my protection now. More than that—you're under my care."

She took a sip of whiskey, wincing slightly at the burn. "Why? We were just witnesses at first. Complications. What changed?"

"Everything," I admitted. "Mateo was right about one thing—I have changed. Because of you. Because of her."

I glanced at the sleeping child, her blonde hair falling across her face, her small hand curled trustingly against her mother's leg. In her, I saw my own childhood—not as it had been, but as it should have been. Protected. Safe. Loved.

"When Mina is rested, we should talk. Properly." Emory's voice was low but firm. "About what happened tonight. About what happens next."

I nodded, understanding her need for clarity. Once the child moved out of earshot, we would talk about the bodies, the blood, the brutal reality of my world. For now, the fragile peace felt too precious to disturb.

We sat in silence for several minutes, the weight of the night's events settling around us. Through the window, I noticed the first hints of dawn breaking over the compound—pale light creeping across the horizon, promising a new day.

"I would burn this world to ash to keep you both safe.” The whiskey had loosened my tongue, or perhaps it was simply the night's near miss with death, the recognition of what I might have lost before I truly understood its value.

Emory's gaze held mine, her eyes reflecting the growing light. "I believe you. That's what terrifies me. And what gives me hope."

She rested her hand protectively on Mina’s shoulder, and I wondered what it felt like to belong in that circle of protection—to be someone she guarded instead of someone she kept at a distance. The thought struck me as foreign, yet compelling.

"Rest now." I rose to check the suite's security. "We'll have time to figure out the rest."

As I moved through my quarters, securing locks and checking surveillance feeds, I was acutely aware of the sleeping child and the watchful mother in my space.

Someone had violated my home tonight, spilling blood across its marble floors and dealing death in its elegant hallways.

Yet somehow, it felt more like home now than it ever had before.

Outside my window, my men carried out the grim work of cleaning up the aftermath. They loaded bodies into unmarked vans, scrubbed blood from the marble floors, hauled away broken furniture, and marked damaged walls for repair. By nightfall, little visible evidence of the violence remained.

But everything had changed. Mateo was gone, and with him, the last ties to my past. The empire he had built would now be fully mine to command, to reshape as I saw fit. And for the first time, I had something—someone—to shape it for.

I returned to find Emory had succumbed to exhaustion, her head tilted back against the sofa, one arm still protectively circling Mina.

In sleep, the wariness left her face, revealing the young woman beneath the fierce protector.

I carefully draped a blanket over them both, my fingers lingering briefly on the soft fabric.

"Sleep well," I whispered, though neither could hear me. "You're safe now."

As dawn broke fully over the blood-soaked compound, I settled into my chair to watch over them, my pistol within reach, my gaze on the door. The Devil had found something worth protecting. And God help anyone who tried to take it from me.