Page 20

20: Blaze

I haven’t slept. None of us have. Except maybe Ryder, but that wasn't necessarily by choice.

Ryder’s been knocked out in Tori’s bed, curled up like she’s his anchor. And she is. Always has been.

Thorne and I left them alone, gave them space. Not like we had a choice. We had business to handle.

Lila.

She’s back where she belongs—bloodied, broken, and dumped at Diablo’s feet.

We didn’t kill her. Could have. Should have. But a bullet would’ve been a kindness, and Lila didn’t deserve kindness.

We made sure she understood that. Made her feel every ounce of the fear she tried to force on Ryder.

By the time we left her, there was nothing left of the smug, overconfident woman who thought she could play with our lives. Just a beaten, whimpering mess Diablo wouldn’t even recognize as useful.

He’ll see her for what she is now. A failure. A liability. A reminder.

I don’t regret it. Not for a second.

What Tori did to Lila did something to me. I’d always known she was strong—always known she had the fire to stand in our world—but I hadn’t expected that. Hadn’t expected her to take to it like she did. Like she was made for it.

She didn’t just handle Lila. She owned her. And the way she did it? It was for Ryder .

That’s what hit me the most—the love behind it. The lengths she’d go to for him, the fury she had in her for what had been done to him. It was ruthless. And it was damn near beautiful.

But the moment we walked back through our door, I knew—we weren’t done.

The living room is dim, the kind of lighting that makes it feel smaller. Tori’s perched on the arm of the couch, fingers tapping against her knee like she’s two seconds from blowing something up.

Gabe leans against the wall, arms crossed, quietly watching. But after tonight, he's not an outsider anymore.

Thorne walks toward the fireplace, tense, still thinking through everything. He has a tendency to replay things in his head in excruciating detail.

And Ryder—finally awake—sits up, looking like hell. But he’s here. And whatever he’s about to say is going to matter.

I crack my knuckles, shifting forward. “Alright. Let’s hear it.”

Ryder runs a hand through his tangled hair, the bruises on his face from his tumble down the stairs still too fresh. He looks like shit. But his voice is steady.

“I got some information before Lila drugged me. In the bathroom, with an informant.” His jaw tightens, and Tori tenses at the mention of Lila. “I managed to get a name from him."

I meet his gaze, doing my best to keep his focus on the informant and that little bitch. “Who?”

Ryder’s eyes flick to mine, too seriously for him. “Cass.”

Thorne is the first to speak again, exhaling sharply, like he’s piecing something together. “When I was looking for Tori, I ran into some guys who had tried to take her. They were on a call with a woman. She was giving orders.” His lips press into a thin line. “Didn’t think much of it at the time. But now— ”

“Now we know it wasn’t just some random woman,” I finish, feeling like an idiot for how stupidly we've been played by everyone since we got here. Gabe. Diablo. Now her. “It was Cassandra.”

Tori’s hands tighten into fists. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” She shakes her head, not because she doesn't believe us, but because she can't handle what it means. "That's it. I'm not allowed to pick my friends anymore. My she's-out-to-get-you radar is clearly broken."

Gabe finally speaks, voice low, ignoring Tori's comment completely. I don't blame him. He has no idea what she's talking about, the kind of betrayal she's experienced. “Makes sense. Cassandra’s always been looking for an opening.”

I glance at him, studying him for a moment before asking, “And you know this how?”

He doesn’t hesitate, answering immediately. “Because Diablo had me watching her when I first started working for him.”

Tori raises an eyebrow. “Why?”

Gabe exhales. “He's never fully trusted her, but she’s ambitious, cutthroat, and has connections that have proven useful to him. But she's reckless. She’s been making moves that haven't added up. At first, I thought she was just trying to prove herself. Now—”

“Now we know she’s trying to take Diablo out,” Thorne mutters. “And she sees Tori as a problem.”

Ryder drags a hand down his face. “Which means she’s not just following orders. She has her own endgame. And our girl is at the center of it again.”

Tori exhales, pressing her hand to her forehead like she can't stand the thought. “Great. Just great. I so love this for me.” She rolls her eyes, sarcasm high as always. But then she shifts, taking a breath and sitting straight. “Fuck this! We're not losing. We didn't last time, and we won't this time. ”

We aren’t just dealing with Diablo anymore. We have another enemy. One who’s been right in front of us the whole time. But she's right, we're not going down without putting up a fight.

Gabe pushes off the wall, stepping forward. “If we’re doing this, we need a plan.”

I nod. “Agreed. And I think I know exactly how to play it.”

Thorne meets my gaze, dark eyes sparkling with excitement. He's got some pent-up anger he'd like to release on these sorry fuckers after everything that's happened. And I'm right there with him. “A setup,” he suggests with a twitch of his lip.

Ryder smirks, though it’s tight. Strained. “The best kind.”

He's still not fully himself.

Tori leans back, eyes flicking between all of us. “Then let’s make it perfect, because nobody is getting hurt this time.”

It's silent enough that Ryder’s leg twitching sounds like bricks falling. He's been left to think too long, and I'm sure his mind is running to places it shouldn't. We've all been silently plotting, trying to come up with the best set up, but everything feels wrong.

Thorne finally breaks the silence, crossing his arms. “Cassandra’s got a network of people we don’t know. But she’s also got people tied to Diablo. Someone in that mix has to be questioning whether or not she can take control of The Diablos, and that's the person we need to take advantage of.”

Gabe speaks up, his voice measured. “Juan.”

Tori raises an eyebrow. “Juan? As in right-hand-man Juan?”

“He’s been with Diablo for years, but he’s not blindly loyal. He has values, and as of late Diablo has been crossing them. Cassandra knows that, and I'm sure she's approached Juan already, getting him on her side. But considering the way Cassandra has been handling things with Tori, I'm sure Juan isn't agreeing with her methods either. Surprisingly, Juan seems to have a soft spot for Tori.”

Tori smiles, clearly liking the fact, probably because she's got a soft spot for him too after he helped last time. “Then let’s see if we can't flip him to our side.”

“It shouldn’t be too hard,” Ryder adds, gaining all our attention. “I think he’s already halfway there. He slipped me a warning before I met with that informant, a whole fucking file on us. His way of looking out, I guess.”

I nod, trying not to question this further, because I know Ryder can’t handle an interrogation or even some light scolding on my part. For now, I’ll just take it as a good sign and move on. And it seems, I'm not the only one with that plan as no one else speaks on the topic.

We lay out the best plan we can. Hours of breaking it down, picking it apart, and putting it back together. Every angle covered. Every outcome considered. And when it's done, I sit back and look at it—the most elaborate plan we’ve ever put together. A setup so seamless it keeps our hands mostly clean, keeps us out of the fight for the most part. It's something I’ve learned from my failures with Nico.

I should feel relieved. Maybe even satisfied. Instead, my blood is still running hot, my mind still stuck on the way Tori handled Lila, the fire in her eyes, the vicious, unrelenting strength in her. I knew she had it in her, but seeing it? That was something else.

Something intoxicating.

Thorne helps Ryder upstairs, his arm slung over his shoulder as he mutters something low to him, reassuring. Tori stands in the middle of the living room, watching them go, her body still tense from the weight of the night, from everything she’s learned…from what she’s done .

I move behind her, letting my fingers brush over her shoulder as I sweep her hair aside, exposing the smooth line of her neck. My lips follow immediately after, pressing against her pulse point, feeling the wild thrum beneath my mouth.

“You're incredible,” I murmur against her skin.

She lets out a slow breath, but she doesn’t pull away. Instead, she leans into me, just slightly, like she needs the contact as much as I do.

“I mean it,” I continue, my hand trailing lower, resting against her waist, pulling her back into me. “Watching you handle Lila? Watching you take control like that?” I exhale a quiet laugh. “Fucking mesmerizing.”

She tilts her head, just enough to let me deepen my kiss along the curve of her throat. My hand slides over her stomach, then up, palming her breast through her shirt.

Soft. Fuller than usual. A thought flickers at the back of my mind, but then she exhales sharply, her body reacting to my touch, and I lose the thread of whatever it was.

A sharp inhale from across the room reminds me we aren’t alone.

Gabe is still leaning against the wall, watching. His eyes dart to the floor, then back up again like he’s debating saying something.

I brush my nose against Tori’s skin, squeezing her breast just enough to make her gasp. “You gonna stand there all night?” I ask, my voice slow, taunting.

Gabe clears his throat, shifting uncomfortably. “I, uh—I should go check on Mia, make sure she hasn't said anything to Diablo or Cass.”

I don’t respond. I don’t need to. I’m too busy watching him turn on his heel and practically bolt from the room, and the satisfaction that comes with it is instant.

Tori lets out a breathy laugh. “Did you do that on purpose? ”

“Maybe.” I roll her nipple between my fingers, relishing the way she trembles against me. “Not my fault he doesn’t know when to make himself scarce.”

She twists in my hold, looking up at me with dark, hooded eyes. “And what exactly do you plan on doing now that he’s gone?”

I let my hands roam, sliding under her shirt, feeling the warm, soft curves of her body. My fingers brush over her bare skin, heat spreading where I touch. Her breath hitches as I trace a slow line up her spine, dragging my fingertips just lightly enough to make her shiver.

“Whatever the hell I want.”

She swallows hard, eyes locked on mine, pupils blown wide with want. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

I grip her hips, turning her around to face me fully. She stumbles a bit, but I steady her, pressing her against the edge of the couch, trapping her between it and me. My mouth is on hers before she can say another word, swallowing the small gasp that slips from her lips as I take exactly what I want.

She tastes like adrenaline and something sweeter, something distinctly her. I press closer, deepening the kiss, my hands gripping her waist, her ribs, her back, like I need to feel all of her at once. Her fingers dig into my shoulders, nails scraping against my skin, and fuck, if that doesn’t make me even hungrier for her.

I break the kiss just long enough to murmur against her lips, “Tell me you want this.”

Her breath is ragged, her body already moving with mine. “You know I do.”

That’s all I need.

I grab the hem of her shirt and pull it over her head, tossing it aside. My eyes roam over her bare skin, the soft curves that are all mine to touch, to take. My hands follow, palming her breasts, thumbs brushing over her already pebbled nipples.

“Fuck,” I breathe, voice rough. “You feel so damn good.”

She arches into my touch, biting her lip, her eyes dark with need. “Then don’t stop.”

I don’t plan to.

I trail my mouth lower, kissing down her jaw, her neck, and further. I take my time, savoring the heat of her skin under my tongue, the way she gasps and writhes beneath my touch. Her fingers tangle in my hair, urging me on, and I let her guide me—just a little—before I take control again, keeping her pinned against the couch as I nip at the delicate skin of her collarbone.

“You drive me fucking crazy,” I murmur, my hands sliding down to grip her hips. “You know that?”

She exhales a breathless laugh, but it turns into a moan as I drag my teeth over her sensitive skin. “I should be telling you that.”

I press a knee between her legs, spreading them enough to make her squirm against me. “You like it when I take my time?”

She swallows hard. “Blaze—”

I silence whatever she’s about to say with another deep, consuming kiss, one that makes her body go lax against me, giving in completely.

This? This is mine. Every breathless sound, every desperate movement, every inch of her. And tonight, I plan on taking my time proving that to her.

Tori’s body trembles beneath me, her breath catching as I slide my hands down her sides, slow, possessive. I don’t rush. I want her to feel every inch of this, to know she’s mine, completely and utterly.

The weight of everything we’ve done, everything we’ve endured, hangs between us like a taut wire. And she wants this—needs this—to snap the tension, to lose herself in something else, something that isn’t betrayal or bloodshed. Something to make her forget the misplaced guilt she's feeling for Ryder.

She whimpers as I bite down on her neck, dragging my tongue over the mark immediately after, soothing it before doing it again. Her hands claw at my shoulders, desperate, restless. I love her like this—wild, insatiable, pushing back against me for more. I always give it to her, but tonight, I’m taking, too.

“Blaze,” she gasps, arching into me, her fingers curling into my hair. “I need more.”

A dark chuckle rumbles from my chest. “That ready for me, huh?”

Her only answer is another breathy moan as she presses against me.

My grip tightens around her waist, and I flip her effortlessly, pressing her face down against the couch. She barely has time to suck in a breath before I’m pinning her there, my mouth at her ear, my body covering hers.

“Like this?” My voice is low, dangerous, the edge of command lacing it.

She shudders, her breath coming out in a desperate little whine. “More.”

I fist a handful of her hair, tilting her head to see the side of her face. The need in her eyes is enough to wreck me. I swear I could make her come from my voice alone if I wanted to.

“You need this, don’t you?” I murmur, dragging my free hand down her back, feeling the tension rippling through her muscles. “You want me to take you so hard you forget everything else?”

She nods frantically, a whimper slipping past her lips.

“Use your words, Tori.”

“I need it,” she breathes, barely getting the words out before I bite down on her shoulder, eliciting another moan. “I need you, Blaze.”

That’s all I need to hear, Doll .

I release her hair and let my hands roam, sliding the rest of her clothes off—admiring her bent over the arm of the couch like this for me—before I shimmy my pants down enough to release my throbbing cock. My fingers dig into her skin as I grip her hips and pull her back against me, placing her exactly where I want her. She gasps, shuddering as I press a hand against her spine, keeping her in place, making sure she knows she isn’t going anywhere until I say so.

I grind against her slowly, making her feel everything, teasing her, dragging this moment out until she’s shaking with need. I want her desperate, ruined by the time I give her what she wants.

She cries out in frustration, pushing back against me, nails digging into the cushions. “Blaze, please—”

I chuckle darkly, pressing my lips to the back of her neck. “I love hearing you beg.”

“Dammit, Blaze,” she gasps. “Just—just give me more.”

I lean over her, my lips right against her ear. “You’re already mine, Tori. But tonight? I want you to scream it.”

She moans at that, and I feel her body give in completely—no more teasing, no more barriers. Just us, lost in each other, drowning in the fire that only we can make burn this hot.

I move lower, dragging my tongue along the line of her spine, tracing every dip, every curve that belongs to me. She’s trembling beneath me, breathless and undone. My hands grip her thighs, squeezing, spreading her open for me, and she gasps at the possessive hold.

“You take everything I give you,” I murmur against her skin, voice rough, threaded with restraint I’m close to losing. “Always so fucking perfect for me.”

She whimpers, pressing herself against me, chasing every touch, every bit of friction. “I want all of it.”

I nip at the sensitive spot where her neck meets her shoulder. “You think you can handle all of it? ”

She nods frantically, her hands clawing at the fabric beneath her. “I can.”

I whisper dark promises that send a full-body shudder through her. “Then let me wreck you, Doll.”

And I do.

I slide into her, inch by inch, encircled by her warmth. It's almost too much, too overwhelming, but I manage to hold myself together. I take my time, dragging her into sensation so deep she can’t breathe, can’t think of anything but the way I’m consuming her, the way she’s unraveling beneath me.

My name spills from her lips like a plea, like a prayer, and I give her everything she asks for—harder, deeper, more, more, more—until she’s shaking, until she’s clawing at me, until she’s gone, lost to the overwhelming force of us.

I don’t stop.

I push her past that edge again and again, watching as she falls apart only to pull her back together, only to do it all over again. My control is razor-thin, held together only by the need to watch her come undone for me.

Her cries grow louder, needier, the tension building so sharp I can feel it radiating off her in waves. I can’t take my eyes off her—her body, her face, the raw desperation in her as she looks back at me, silently begging me to end her, to give her that last, final push.

I wrap my hand around her hair, tugging it so that she has to hold my gaze from the corner of her eye. “Let go.”

And she does.

She shatters against me, a broken, beautiful mess, and I follow right after, growling her name as I bury myself deep, as I claim every last piece of her all over again.

For a long moment, neither of us moves, our bodies still tangled, breath ragged, nothing but the sound of us .

Then she exhales a soft, contented sigh and shifts onto her side, resting her forehead against my chest as I turn to face her, lying beside her. I tighten my arms around her, holding her close, letting the silence settle around us like a blanket.

Her fingers trail lazily down my spine. She smirks, but there’s something else in her expression—something softer, more vulnerable. I brush my fingers over her jaw, tilting her face up to mine. “You okay?”

She nods, but her voice is quieter when she speaks. “I needed that.”

I study her, knowing exactly what she means. I felt it, too. This wasn’t just sex. It was something else, something deeper. A way to take back control. A way to remind ourselves that after everything, we’re still here. We still have each other.

I press my lips to her forehead, lingering there. “Yeah. Me too.”