Page 22

22: Ryder

I adjust my collar as we pull into Juan's driveway, rolling my shoulders, hating the way my skin still feels wrong, like Lila left something on me I can’t scrub off. I need to burn this fucking suit. I need to burn the memory of that night straight out of my head.

But I can’t.

I stare out the window, drumming my fingers on my thigh. I should be thinking about Juan, about what we need to say to bring him over to our side. Instead, all I can hear is Lila’s voice whispering bullshit in my ear, her nails dragging down my chest like she has some kind of claim to me. My jaw clenches so hard it clicks.

Control.

I need to take it back. Over myself, over my life, over what happens next. And that starts with making sure Diablo burns for every last thing he’s done.

Blaze is driving, his grip tight on the wheel, his whole body radiating that tension I know has his asshole puckered. Thorne sits beside him, arms crossed, too quiet, too in his head. Meanwhile, I’m in the back, trying to pretend I’m fine.

Everything is just peachy over here.

“So, what’s the plan if Juan doesn’t go for it?” I ask, because talking is better than thinking.

“He will,” Blaze says without looking at me.

Some optimism .

Thorne glances at me in the rearview mirror, eyes sharp, staring right into my fucking soul. How the hell does he do that? “But if he doesn’t, we improvise.”

I huff a laugh, leaning back. “Improvise. Right. Because that always goes well.”

Blaze shoots me a look like he’s considering whether murder is still illegal if it's between friends. I hold my hands up in mock surrender. “Kidding. Mostly.”

Truth is, Juan isn’t the problem. The guy’s been playing the long game, waiting for his moment to cut the leash Diablo keeps wrapped around his throat. Or so Gabe tells us. We just have to convince Juan that moment is now. That we’re his best shot.

And if he says no? Well. I’ve always wanted to know what a mutiny looks like up close.

Long live KitKat!

We pull up to the house, and Juan is already waiting outside, his arms crossed, expression stoic.

Such a warm welcome, Juany.

I step out first, adjusting my cuffs like this just an afternoon chat amongst colleagues. “Juan, my favorite morally gray businessman.”

Juan’s lips twitch, but he doesn’t smile. “You have something to say, Ryder, or did you come just because you missed me?”

“Me? Miss you?” I shake my head as I point between us. “In your dreams, Juany. I don't roll that way.” I wink at him which only gets me an exasperated eye roll.

Eh. He can pretend, but I know he loves it.

The atmosphere changes as Blaze and Thorne step up beside me. No more jokes. No more bullshit.

Tori should be the one handling this, but she’s got bigger things to worry about right now. So it’s on us.

On me .

“We’re taking Diablo down,” I say simply. “And we want you on our side when it happens.”

Juan doesn’t react. Doesn’t flinch. Just tilts his head, studying us like he’s trying to figure out if he can really trust us. Or if we’re just bullshitting him and this is all one of those diabolical Diablo plans.

Maybe that’s why he calls himself Diablo?

“And what makes you think you can?” he finally asks, voice even.

Blaze steps forward, voice low, measured. “Because we already have everything we need. We can prove Cassandra is the leak. Diablo just needs to see it with his own eyes.”

Juan raises a brow. “And after that?”

Thorne smirks, rolling his shoulders like he’s been waiting for this. “After that, he’ll be too busy cleaning up the mess to notice us coming. And just when he thinks he’s regained control—”

“We take it from him,” Blaze finishes, his voice dark with finality.

Juan exhales, running a hand over his jaw. “And what happens to his empire?”

“Tori takes over,” I say, because there’s no other answer. “With your help. With Gabe’s. You two can help her run things until she’s ready. Having you both would help ease the transition better than having us at her side.”

He laughs, shaking his head. “That girl is a wildfire waiting to spread. She’s still young. Still reckless. You really think she can do this?”

“She can do it with all of us at her side,” Blaze says. “She won't be alone.”

Juan studies each of us in turn, weighing, measuring. Then, slowly, he nods. “I want to believe in Tori. But I hope you know this isn't going to be easy.”

Relief washes through me, but I don’t let it show. Instead, I nod. “Easy? I wouldn't dream of it. ”

Juan scoffs. “Yeah, knowing you three, you'll make this a million times more difficult than it needs to be.”

“Hey! I take offense to that,” I joke, crossing my arms with a light pout. “I make things a million times more fun, even if it means complicating them.”

“Thank you for proving my point.” He shakes his head with disapproval but I see the smirk on his lips.

Already falling for my charms, aren't you, Juany?

Blaze leans in, eyes locked on Juan’s. “You’ve worked under Diablo for years. What’s his biggest weakness?”

Juan shakes his head. “His ego. He thinks he’s untouchable. You make him feel like he’s still in control, and he won't suspect a thing.”

Thorne nods. “So we keep him busy with Cassandra’s mess, make him believe he’s putting his house back in order, and right when he feels secure—”

Blaze’s voice drops, lethal. “We show him just how not in charge he actually is.”

“Would you stop that?!” Thorne snaps at Blaze, rolling his eyes.

“You're stealing his thunder,” I add in a lightly scolding manner, holding in my laughter. They both glare at each other for a moment before staring my way casually, and I realize they're putting on a show for me.

What are friends for if not to help you forget your traumatic life events?

“That's my job,” I add, draping my arm over Thorne and holding him close.

“Yeah, yeah.” Thorne rolls his eyes, but his arm comes up over mine as he pulls me into his side. “Don't worry, Ryder. You're definitely center stage.”

“And you want me to put my faith in you all.” Juan interjects, breaking the brotherly moment with a shake of his head .

“Don't worry, Juan. You'll be the Daddy. I'll let you ground me, and if you do a good job, I might even let you spank me.” I throw a wink his way for dramatics.

Juan goes still, his face morphing into disgust and we all laugh. Juan included.

“Alright, alright. Let's get serious.” Juan strokes his stubble thoughtfully. “You’re going to need more than just evidence against Cassandra. Diablo’s not the type to make a move based on logic alone. He needs to feel like he’s personally been wronged. If you can make him feel betrayed, like Cassandra has been playing him for a fool…”

I snap my fingers. “Then he’ll gut her himself.”

Juan nods. “Exactly.”

Blaze’s jaw tightens. “We've already put Cassandra in a position where she'll be caught red-handed with this new shipment she's in charge of. Diablo will have no choice but to act.”

Thorne cracks his knuckles, his grin all teeth. “We're better prepared for this than you might think.”

I hook my arms over Blaze and Thorne's necks and pull them to my chest. “We've got this. No problem.”

Juan watches us for a long moment, as if he's studying the four of us. “You’re all crazy. But I like it.”

Blaze smirks. “Good. Because this is just the beginning. We're going to be working together for years to come.”

Juan shakes his head, laughing under his breath. "I'll start pulling the strings on my end. I'll make sure Diablo sees it the way you need him to. But if this goes sideways—"

"It won’t," Blaze assures him.

Juan exhales, eyeing us like we're a goddamn hurricane about to rip through everything he knows. "Then let's take Diablo down to hell where he belongs."

Damn fucking straight!

Juan’s message comes through just as we’re finishing up plans at the estate. My phone vibrates on the table, and when I check it, the message is short and to the point:

Juan: Warehouse. Now. She's here.

That’s all we need. Within minutes, we’re in the car, speeding through the city under the cover of night. The ride is quiet, tense. No music, no joking around. Just the hum of the engine and the weight of what’s about to go down.

Thorne's driving, Gabe at his side and Tori’s sandwiched between Blaze and me in the backseat, arms crossed, foot bouncing like she’s trying to shake off some invisible weight. As we near the warehouse, she wrinkles her nose and mutters, "Jesus Christ, it smells like rotting asshole in here. What the fuck are they storing? Corpses?"

Blaze doesn’t look away from the windshield. "Wouldn’t put it past them."

She wrinkles her nose like she can’t bear to take another breath. The smell isn’t exactly pleasant, but then again, maybe I’m not smelling what she is, judging by her dramatic reaction.

We park down the street, slipping into the shadows like we’re trying to be ghosts, undetected until we spot Juan. He stands tall and unbothered, like the entire plan unfolding isn’t even a blip on his radar.

Probably because he’s not the one doing the hard part.

He spots us, tilting his head in a silent command for us to go around the side, pushing us along until we’re huddled down looking like kids sneaking around at school .

“Are you sure this is going to go the way you planned?” he asks, his brows furrowed in that serious way of his that says he’s not buying it.

Oh, ye of little faith .

“Of course it is, bud.” I clap his back, the gesture friendly enough, but it only seems to annoy him more.

“We’ve got it handled, trust me,” Gabe adds, his voice smooth and confident, instantly putting some ease into Juan’s tense posture.

Juan nods, his focus shifting solely to Gabe now, his attention sharp. “She told me she had this covered, rushed me home saying she’d handle the rest. So I’m sure she’s messing with the crates by now.”

“Got it. Leave the rest to us. We’ll send you the video once it’s done,” Gabe reassures him, clasping hands with the big man in a way that feels like some kind of pact we’re not meant to understand.

Juan leads us to a side entrance he left open for us, and we slide right on in. Inside, the air is stale, thick with the scent of oil, metal, and something that has Tori gagging.

"Okay, I take it back. Whatever that smell is, it’s demonic," she whispers, shuddering. "That is the scent of actual death. I’m convinced."

"Noted. I’ll get you a candle," I whisper back. "Maybe ‘Warehouse Rot’—limited edition."

She shoots me a look but doesn’t say anything.

We crouch low behind a stack of crates, peering through the gaps. Cassandra is at the far end, shifting boxes, her phone tucked between her ear and shoulder as she barks orders to someone.

“Don't worry. I have it handled. Just do what I said, and get me what I asked for.”

Bingo.

Blaze taps his phone, recording. Thorne shifts beside me, eyes locked on the scene like he’s committing every detail to memory. Tori watches too, her jaw tight, her fingers twitching like she’s itching to end this herself.

I get it. I want to end her too.

Cass is the reason Mia and Lila did what they did.

My foot inches forward, wanting to march right out and punch the bitch myself, but then, right on cue, Juan’s message pops up.

Juan: Got it. Sending to Diablo now.

As we wait, we listen in to her conversation, hoping to hear something about her plans. I'm almost certain that she knows this is a set up, and she's walked into it a little too easily.

Somethings gotta be up.

“I need it now if this is going to work,” she argues into her phone, her hands deep inside a crate. Part of me wants to run behind her and push her in, closing the lid tight and shipping her off. “Don't give me that shit! Find a way!”

We watch her carefully as she closes the crate and then abruptly hangs up the phone. She taps something onto her screen and then pockets the device with a look that has my skin crawling.

She's confident.

No.

She's smug.

We barely have time to get comfortable before we hear the roar of an engine outside, headlights slicing through the dark. The ground rumbles as an SUV skids to a stop, tires screeching against pavement. Doors slam open, and a handful of men, including Juan, flood the entrance like a goddamn execution squad.

Diablo doesn’t just send men. He comes himself.

"Showtime," I mutter, shifting my stance.

Cassandra hears the engine, too. Her head snaps up, eyes darting to the doors just as they swing open. Diablo strides in like the goddamn Grim Reaper, his men fanning out behind him .

For a second, no one moves. No one speaks. Then Cassandra lifts her chin, and I swear to God, she smiles .

"This should be good," Tori whispers, voice dripping with sarcasm.

Blaze elbows her lightly, but even he’s watching with sharp interest.

Diablo steps forward like he owns the place, the whole damn room. "Tell me, Cassandra," he says, voice deceptively smooth. "How long have you been betraying me?"

Cassandra doesn’t even blink. She lifts her chin, maintaining that calm, innocent expression, her hands folded neatly in front of her. “Betraying you?” she repeats, her voice smooth, almost confused, like she’s genuinely trying to comprehend what he’s implying. “I’ve done nothing but follow orders, Diablo. You know that.”

She pauses, letting her words hang in the air for a moment. “But there are others, others who would rather see you fall. You’ve been too busy with your daughter to notice, but I’ve been trying to find the real threats. The ones working behind your back.”

I can’t help but roll my eyes. She’s laying it on thick, playing the innocent victim to the hilt.

Diablo steps closer, his men flanking around him but keeping their distance, allowing him to press Cassandra with his intimidating aura. He narrows his dark eyes before letting out a singular laugh full of scrutiny.

“You take me for a fool, Cass?”

“No, of course not!” She taps her phone screen and holds it out to Diablo. “I have footage of Thorne opening one of the crates last night. I thought you’d want to see it, since it’s clear no one else is being honest with you.”

Diablo takes the phone from her, his expression guarded as he watches the video. I don’t need to watch it to know what’s on it. It’s probably doctored so that Diablo sees exactly what she wants him to see. Which is apparently Thorne at a warehouse opening some crates.

Not hard to find footage like that, seeing as his task with Mia mainly consisted of checking the crates—which means opening them.

This bitch is worse than a roach.

Blaze shifts beside me, barely containing his frustration. We’re all ready to jump in, but the plan was for us to come out of this with our hands generally clean. If we step out now, I'm not sure we'll be able to keep that objective. And I know more than anyone how badly we want to keep Tori from having to kill someone else, especially not someone she thought was a friend, or even her own father.

Man, we wanted Cass and Diablo to take each other out. What utter bullshit is this?

Diablo watches the footage for a moment, the silence in the room stretching so thick I can almost hear his mind working. His lips tighten into a thin line, and I can see the wheels turning. He's thinking—and that’s where we need to be careful.

“Thorne,” Diablo murmurs, his voice low. “You expect me to believe he was the one to mess with my shipments when this problem began before he even arrived?”

“Well, no,” Cassandra says, her tone still calm, too calm. She doesn’t even flinch under Diablo’s scrutiny. “Didn’t Juan help Tori and her guys with the whole Nico fiasco? Wouldn't it make sense that they formed a bond, or even a plan back then? That they’d join forces to take down—” She pauses for effect, letting the words hang in the air, “—to take your kingdom over?”

I don’t like where this is going.

Juan's voice cuts through the air, furious and sharp. “Bullshit!” he spits, stepping forward so abruptly that his anger almost radiates off him like heat from a furnace. “My leg was shot. I was on the mend for at least a month. Jefe , you know that! I was with you for most of it!”

Diablo’s head snaps toward Juan, his eyes narrowing dangerously as if deciding whether or not to believe the man he’s called his right hand for so long.

Cassandra doesn’t even blink, though. She keeps her calm, keeping the pressure measured. "You were with him, sure, but how much of that time was really spent watching?”

Juan’s face flushes with anger, his hand reaching for the grip of his gun, but Diablo holds up a hand to stop him, his gaze never leaving Cassandra.

“What exactly are you saying?” Diablo’s voice lowers, his tone now all business, cold and calculated. “You’re telling me Juan, my most trusted man, is in on this with them?”

Cassandra doesn’t back down. “I’m not saying Juan’s in on it, Diablo. I’m saying he could be. I’m saying he’s been too close, too involved with Tori and the others to be clean. All the pieces are here, Diablo. It’s all starting to come together.”

I almost choke on the disgust rising in my throat. She’s feeding him lies—she’s twisting everything to make it sound like we’re the enemy. But what makes it worse is that Diablo is listening. He’s actually considering it.

I glance at the others, and I can tell they're feeling the same thing. We can’t let this drag on any longer. It’s time to step out. Time to put an end to this once and for all.

Tori— as usual —doesn't hesitate, doesn't even wait a second longer. She’s stepping out, shoulders squared, head held high, and fists of fury at her sides. She doesn’t even look at us as she crosses the room, making her presence known.

“The only thing that’s coming together is your downfall, Cass ,” Tori’s voice drops with venom as she says her name—feelings of rage, of betrayal chiming in. “You really think you can play everyone, twist the truth like this? You’re not as clever as you think you are.”

Cassandra’s eyes dart to Tori, and for a fraction of a second, I see the panic flash in her eyes before she masks it again. She knows she’s been caught, but she’s not ready to admit it.

“You—” Cassandra starts, but she’s cut off by Tori before she can even start.

Tori’s voice rings out, loud and cutting, as her gaze locks onto Cassandra with the fury of someone who’s finally had enough. “You act like you’re some amazing female in power that I should follow and listen to, but you’re no better than the rats scurrying along this warehouse,” she spits, her words sharp, her breath coming in quick bursts. “I thought I could trust you when really you were plotting, ready to stab me in the back at your earliest convenience. Fuck you, Cass! ” Her voice is trembling, not from fear, but from the raw anger that she can’t contain anymore.

Gabe places himself between Diablo and Tori, covering her back to keep her safe. She seems to have forgotten the biggest threat isn't Cass, but her father. “You have the footage of Cassandra messing with the crates tonight. There's no denying that, so why are you even entertaining the notion that it could be us?” His voice is leveled, his gaze hard. He’s not about to let Diablo buy Cassandra’s lies.

“He’s right,” he says, the words forced but necessary. “Open the crate and see for yourself. There’s nothing to hide.”

The tension in the room rises, every eye turning toward Diablo as his men move to the crate. Cassandra’s eyes widen, but she doesn’t speak, her lips pressing together in a tight line.

The guard opens the crate carefully, and the lid creaks as it’s pulled back. Diablo steps forward, his eyes locked on the contents, watching closely for any signs of tampering.

The seconds stretch into eternity as the lid fully opens. Silence settles over the room like a heavy weight .

Inside? Just the usual. Nothing out of place. No sign of tampering, no hidden surprises. It’s exactly what it should be.

This bitch is too good.

Like I want to commend her, but also just kind of stab her in the temple.

Diablo stands there, staring into the crate, his expression unreadable. His eyes flickering toward Cassandra, who straightens up, her shoulders back, her lips curling into that smug little smile of hers.

“See?” she says, voice sweet, like she’s won. “Told you it isn't me who's messing with your shipments.”

I almost lose it right then and there. But it's Tori who moves first, and the explosion of anger that follows is impossible to ignore.

Without warning, Tori strides forward, her face twisted in pure fury. Her voice rings out, cutting through the tense silence like a whip. “The only thing that’s not messed with here is your damn face, Cass.”

Cassandra’s smug expression doesn’t falter, but there’s a glint of something darker in her eyes now. She’s still playing the game, but I can see the flicker of doubt beneath the surface, like she knows she's losing balance on the tight rope she's walking.

Tori doesn’t wait. She’s done with pretending, done with keeping her cool. “You think you’ve been so clever, huh? Playing the hero, acting like you’re so innocent, but all you’ve been doing is sinking your claws into whoever you can.” Her voice rises with each word, the anger pouring out in waves. “You used Lila to drug Ryder, you used Mia to get her to kiss Thorne, to get under my skin. You told them you're their mentor, but abandoned them the moment their usefulness was done.”

The words spill out, one after another, harsh and cutting, each one a blow aimed straight at Cassandra’s carefully crafted persona. Tori steps closer, her hands clenched at her sides, barely able to contain herself. “You’ve been playing everyone, Cassandra, everyone, and now you’re going to pay for it. ”

Tori moves faster than I can blink. One moment, she’s standing there, furious but controlled, and the next, her fist is colliding with Cassandra’s face with a sickening crack. The punch is clean, brutal, and Cassandra’s body hits the ground hard. She staggers, her hands scrambling to catch herself, but it’s too late. She crumples to the floor, completely unprepared for the sheer force behind the blow.

Cassandra lies there for a moment, stunned, her breath coming in ragged gasps as her now broken nose gushes blood. Her face is flushed with the pain of the punch, her pride shattered in the wake of the hit. For the first time in this entire ordeal, Cassandra looks vulnerable. For the first time, she looks like someone who’s lost.

Tori stands over her, chest heaving, her body still vibrating with the anger that’s now been unleashed. She glares down at Cassandra, her eyes filled with a fury that could burn the world down. “You played with the wrong girl, Cass. And deep down, I think you know that.”

Cassandra’s eyes are wide, her lips trembling as she tries to push herself up, but Tori doesn’t give her the chance. Instead, she pushes her down again.

“Stay on the floor where you belong and watch how things are settled.” She turns to her father, arms crossed, eyes blazed in fire. “Call the last number on her phone,” she demands, her voice unwavering despite the storm of emotions swirling through her.

Diablo raises an eyebrow, but he doesn’t question it. He picks up Cassandra’s phone, his fingers tapping across the screen, dialing the last number without hesitation. The phone rings once, twice—each second stretching into an eternity. And then, finally, it picks up.

The voice on the other end is low, almost eager. “Did you get it? Did he believe you?”

Diablo’s expression darkens, and he holds the phone up, his eyes never leaving Cassandra. “Who is this?” he asks, his voice cold, commanding .

For a moment, the line crackles with silence. Then the line goes dead with a final click.

The room is deathly silent.

Diablo looks down at the phone, his grip tightening. His gaze flicks from the phone back to Cassandra, and then to the rest of us. The cold fury in his eyes is unmistakable.

Cassandra’s face is pale now, her composure slipping completely.

The jig is up.

Tori stands over her, her hands still clenched at her sides, but the anger in her eyes is starting to fade, replaced by something colder. “You’re finished,” she says quietly, her voice chilling in its finality.

Cassandra’s mouth opens, but no words come out. She can’t say anything. The lies have crumbled. Diablo’s already made his decision. This is the end for her.

Diablo wastes no time, pulling his gun from his waist and aiming it right at Cassandra's head. She staggers, mouth open, words ready to form, but they don't get the chance to leave her mouth as the gun fires. The sound echoes through the warehouse, loud and final, her body crumpling by Tori's feet.

My KitKat doesn't even flinch. She steps over Cassandra's lifeless body, splattered in the woman's blood, and marches right up to Diablo.

The man still has a gun raised!

“I can't believe you even gave thought to her accusation,” she says, sounding disappointed as she shakes her head like he's a small child. “This is why you're losing your edge.”

At her words, the men that were flanking Diablo walk around him, taking their spots behind Tori.

“What is this?” Diablo’s voice is low, even, but there’s something coiled beneath it. He already knows. He just doesn’t want to believe it .

Tori tilts her head, giving him a slow roll of her shoulder. “Hostile takeover.”

He chuckles.

Fucking chuckles.

“You think you can just take what’s mine?” He shakes his head, amused.

Tori doesn’t flinch. “I think you underestimate me.”

Diablo exhales sharply through his nose, but the amusement is gone. He looks at Juan, waiting, but Juan doesn’t move.

Yeah, that’s gotta sting.

For the first time since we met the man, I see real anger crack through his exterior. Not the cold, calculated kind that makes him terrifying, but something else. Something more raw.

“You’re making a mistake, mija,” he warns, voice dropping to something quiet, almost gentle.

Tori lifts a shoulder. “Maybe. But I’d rather make my own mistakes than be made a puppet.”

His jaw flexes. “And if I say no?”

She smiles, but there’s nothing warm in it. “Then you die here.”

The thing is—we all know she doesn’t want to kill him. Not really. But if she gives him anything less than an ultimatum, he’ll see it as weakness. He’ll bide his time, wait for a crack, and strike.

This? This puts him in a corner.

He inhales slowly, looking past her, past all of us. Measuring his options.

I don’t dare move. No one does.