Page 3

3: Blaze

Morning comes too fast. I wake up to the soft warmth of Tori’s breath against my chest, her fingers curled lightly into my shirt as if she’s clinging to me even in her sleep. Ryder’s sprawled out on her other side, snoring softly, one arm draped over her waist. Thorne’s at the edge of the bed, his arm over Ryder, and his hand resting protectively on Tori’s hip like a sentinel on watch.

For a moment, I don’t move. The house is still quiet, and this is the closest thing to peace I’ve felt since we got here. These fleeting moments of calm are rare, and I’m not in a hurry to lose this one. But reality waits for no one, and Diablo’s orders are waiting.

I won't be the reason Tori worries about her decision to come here.

I carefully ease out of bed, making sure not to wake her. Ryder barely stirs, muttering something unintelligible, but he settles again, and I let out a quiet breath of relief. The floor is cold under my feet as I head to the bathroom, running through the day in my head.

It’s going to suck. I already know it.

By the time I’ve showered and dressed, the others are starting to stir. Ryder is the first to sit up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he shoots me a wink. “Up early, as usual. I couldn’t do it.”

“It’s called discipline,” I reply, buttoning up my shirt.

“Sounds boring.” Ryder swings his legs over the foot of the bed and stretches. “But I guess it’s working for you. ”

Tori groans softly as she rolls onto her back, her eyes blinking open to find me. “You’re already dressed? Give us normal people a chance to catch up, please.”

I step closer to the bed, leaning down, brushing a kiss against her forehead. “Good morning, Doll.”

She smiles sleepily, her fingers reaching out to brush against mine. “Morning.”

Thorne stirs next, his dark eyes opening as he takes in the scene. He doesn’t say much—he never does first thing in the morning—but the way his gaze lingers on Tori says enough. He moves to sit up as he adjusts to the waking world.

“We’ve got a long day ahead,” I remind them. “Let’s not waste it.”

We’ve all got our own tasks, and Diablo made sure none of them would be together. Already trying to tear us apart by keeping us separated.

Ryder groans dramatically, flopping back onto the bed. “You sure know how to ruin a perfectly good morning.”

“You’re welcome,” I reply dryly, earning a chuckle from Tori.

She sits up, stretching her arms over her head before swinging her legs over the side of the bed. “Fine. But if we’re getting up, I’m at least getting a kiss first.”

Ryder is the first to oblige, leaning in to press a kiss to her cheek. “There you go, KitKat. Now you’re officially awake.”

Thorne follows, his touch lingering as he presses a kiss to her temple. “Good morning,” he murmurs softly, his voice low and warm.

I step closer, cupping her face in my hands as I kiss her properly, letting my lips linger against hers for just a moment longer than necessary. When I pull back, her cheeks are flushed, and there’s a softness in her eyes that makes my chest tighten.

“Okay, enough of this lovey-doveyness,” Ryder says, clapping his hands together. “Let’s get moving before Blaze starts timing us. ”

I shake my head, but I can’t help the small smile that tugs at my lips as they start to get ready. It’s moments like this that remind me why we’re here. Why we’re doing all this. For her.

Once everyone is dressed and ready, we head downstairs for a quick breakfast. Gabriel is already there, standing off to the side like the world’s most intimidating statue. He doesn’t say anything as we pass, but his presence is impossible to ignore. It’s like he’s always watching, always assessing. It grates on my nerves more than I care to admit.

Tori glances at him briefly before focusing on me. “You okay?”

I nod. “Just ready to get to work.”

She doesn’t press further, but the concern in her eyes lingers. I press a quick kiss to her temple before heading out, leaving her with Ryder and Thorne. There’s no time for distractions—not until I figure out exactly what Diablo has planned.

The office I was instructed to go to is exactly what I expected: pristine, orderly, and utterly lifeless. The desk is clear except for a stack of neatly arranged folders, the shelves are lined with books that look untouched, and the air smells faintly of polished wood. It’s a space that screams clean, and while I should appreciate that, it only makes me feel more on edge.

Eve is already there, of course. She’s seated at the desk, her tablet in hand as she reviews something with the kind of focus that feels almost robotic. Her hair is pulled back into a neat bun, not a strand out of place, and her tailored suit fits her perfectly. She looks like she belongs in a high-rise office, not here.

“Morning,” she says without looking up .

“Morning,” I reply, taking the seat across from her. “What do you have for me?”

She sets the tablet down and slides a folder across the desk. “I’ve been reviewing the logistics reports for the past quarter. There are some discrepancies in the shipping manifests—minor, but consistent.”

I open the folder, scanning the data. The inconsistencies jump out immediately—adjustments in weight, missing items, small enough to avoid detection but frequent enough to be deliberate.

Why has this gone unchecked for so long?

Or maybe it hasn’t and Diablo is just setting me up for failure?

“These shipments go through the north docks?” I ask.

“Yes,” she replies. “Luis Ortega oversees the operation, but his team has seen some turnover recently. It’s possible someone new is exploiting the gaps.”

“Or Ortega’s in on it,” I mutter, closing the folder. “Have you flagged the shipments?”

“Of course,” she says smoothly. “I’ve also arranged for us to inspect the docks later today. I assumed you’d want to see the operation firsthand.”

I nod, but something about her tone sets me on edge. She’s too prepared, too perfect. It’s like she’s been given a script for the day and she's doing her best not to deviate from it.

“You’ve been with Diablo’s organization for a while, haven’t you?” I ask casually, leaning back in my chair.

“Long enough to understand how things work,” she replies, her expression neutral.

“And yet you’re here now. With me.” I tilt my head, watching her closely. “Why is that?”

She doesn’t flinch, but I catch the briefest flicker of something in her eyes. “Because Diablo trusts me to help you succeed. ”

“Help me succeed, or report back on what I’m doing?” I press, my tone sharpening. “Let’s skip the bullshit, Eve. Why are you really here?”

Her composure doesn’t crack, but her voice is firmer now. “I’m here because I’m good at what I do. If you have an issue with that, you’ll need to take it up with Diablo.”

It’s a deflection, and a clever one. She’s not giving me anything to work with, and I hate how much that irritates me. I push back from the desk, standing as I gather the folder.

“We’ll head to the docks in an hour,” I say, my tone clipped. “Be ready.”

She nods, gathering her things before leaving the room. The door clicks shut behind her, and I let out a breath of frustration, dragging my hand down my face.

She’s good. Too good. And as much as I hate to admit it, I’m starting to see why Diablo picked her. But that doesn’t mean I have to like it.

The hour between Eve leaving the office and our trip to the docks drags on like a bad lecture. I sift through the reports she left, checking and cross-checking the manifests, weights, and locations. Every number is just believable enough to pass, but the discrepancies are consistent—almost like whoever’s responsible wanted them to be found by someone like me.

There’s no way Diablo doesn’t know about this already. He’s testing me, seeing if I’ll play his game or fail it. And Eve? She’s part of the test. Whether she’s here to help or sabotage, I haven’t figured out yet.

By the time I make my way to the garage, she’s already there, leaning against one of the black SUVs like she’s posing for a corporate ad campaign. Her tablet is tucked under her arm, her expression as neutral as ever.

“Ready?” she asks, straightening as I approach .

“As I’ll ever be,” I reply, climbing into the driver’s seat before she has the chance. If this is going to be a game of control, I’m not about to hand her the wheel—literally or figuratively.

Eve slides into the passenger seat without a word, her calm demeanor grating on me more than it should. I pull out of the driveway, the silence so uncomfortable I almost play music.

“You’re quiet,” she finally says, breaking the silence. “I assumed you’d have more questions.”

“About what?” I ask, keeping my eyes on the road. “The discrepancies? Or you?”

“Both,” she replies, her tone annoyingly even.

I glance at her, trying to gauge her expression, but she’s as unreadable as ever. “You already know my thoughts on the discrepancies. Someone’s skimming, and it’s either Ortega or someone under him. What I’m interested in is why this hasn’t been handled already. Diablo doesn’t strike me as the kind of man who lets things like this slide.”

Her lips curve into a faint smile, the kind that’s more calculated than genuine. “Maybe he’s waiting to see how you handle it.”

“Great,” I mutter under my breath. “Another test.”

“If it is, you seem to be passing so far,” she says lightly, her gaze shifting to the window.

I don’t reply, instead focusing on the road ahead. The docks aren’t far, but the weird atmosphere between us makes every mile feel longer.

“You didn’t answer the second part of my question,” I say after a moment. “Why are you here?”

She doesn’t respond immediately, her gaze flicking back to me with the kind of patience that makes me want to slam the brakes just to rattle her composure. “I told you. I’m here to assist you.”

“And you expect me to believe that? ”

“I expect you to draw your own conclusions,” she replies, her tone maddeningly calm. “I’m just here to do my job.”

I grip the steering wheel tighter, biting back the retort that’s on the tip of my tongue. She’s playing this game too well, deflecting just enough to keep me guessing without giving me anything to work with.

We arrive at the docks a few minutes later, the sight of stacked shipping containers and the faint smell of saltwater hitting me like a familiar punch. Workers move between containers quickly, but by how high they keep their shoulders, I can tell they’re all too tense to be natural.

Eve steps out of the SUV, her heels clicking against the pavement as she adjusts her blazer. I follow, scanning the area for anything that feels out of place.

“Where’s Ortega?” I ask.

“Inside the main office,” she replies, gesturing toward a squat building near the edge of the docks. “I’ve already informed him of our visit.”

Of course she did.

We make our way to the office, the faint hum of machinery in the background. The man I assume is Ortega is waiting for us, his expression a mixture of weariness and irritation. He’s an older man, his face lined with years of hard work and harder decisions.

“Senor Blaze,” he says, extending a hand. “Senorita Eve mentioned you’d be coming.”

“Ortega,” I reply, shaking his hand. His grip is firm but not overcompensating. “I want to go over the manifests with you. There are some discrepancies I need you to explain.”

I don’t miss the way his eyes flick to Eve briefly before returning to me. “Of course. Let me show you to the records room.”

The records room is a cramped, dimly lit space filled with filing cabinets and a single computer that looks like it hasn’t been updated in a decade. Ortega pulls out a drawer, retrieving a stack of files that match the ones Eve provided earlier.

“These are the original manifests,” he says, handing them to me. “Everything should be in order.”

“Should be,” I echo, flipping through the files. The discrepancies are there, just as Eve pointed out, but Ortega’s calm demeanor doesn’t shift. Either he’s very good at playing dumb, or he genuinely doesn’t know what’s going on.

“You’ve had some turnover in your team recently,” I say, keeping my tone casual. “Anything stand out? New hires causing problems? Suspicious behavior?”

Ortega shakes his head. “Nothing out of the ordinary. We vet all new hires thoroughly.”

“That doesn’t mean they’re clean,” I point out. “Sometimes the best way to exploit a system is from the inside.”

Ortega’s eyes flicker with unease, but he doesn’t respond.

Eve steps forward, her voice smooth as she interjects. “If someone is skimming, they’re doing it carefully. The discrepancies are small enough to avoid detection unless someone is specifically looking for them.”

“And you just happened to notice,” I say, glancing at her.

Her expression remains neutral. “It’s my job to notice.”

“Convenient,” I mutter, returning my attention to the files.

Ortega clears his throat, his tone cautious. “If there’s anything else you need, let me know. I’ll cooperate fully.”

“I’m sure you will,” I reply, closing the folder. “We’ll be conducting a thorough review of the operation. If there’s anything you’re not telling me, now’s the time.”

He doesn’t flinch, his gaze confident. “You’ll find everything in order.”

I don’t believe him, but I let it go for now. Eve leads the way back to the SUV, her expression blank as we climb inside .

“Well?” she asks once we’re on the road again.

“Well, what?” I reply, keeping my eyes on the road.

“Your thoughts on Ortega.”

“He’s hiding something,” I say bluntly. “Whether it’s intentional or not, I’m not sure yet.”

“And me?” she asks, her tone almost teasing.

I glance at her, my expression hardening. “You’re hiding plenty.”

She smiles faintly, the kind of smile that feels more like a challenge than an agreement. “Maybe. Or maybe you’re just looking too hard.”

I don’t respond, focused on driving us back to the estate. The ride back is quiet again, the silence settling like a heavy fog. She’s still as composed as ever, scrolling through her tablet without a care in the world. Whatever she’s up to is hidden too well, frustrating the absolute hell out of me. The whole setup feels wrong, but without proof, I’m stuck playing Diablo’s game.

As I pull into the estate, my mind drifts to the others. Ryder’s probably charming his way through whatever task Diablo saddled him with, making it look easy even if it isn’t. He’s good at that—masking stress with humor pretending it doesn't even exist. Thorne, on the other hand, is likely overanalyzing every move, his permanently grumpy face hiding the fact that he cares about shit more than anyone realizes.

And Tori...I grip the steering wheel a little tighter at the thought of her. She was worried this morning, even if she didn’t say it outright. I could see it in the way her eyes lingered on me when I kissed her, in the way her hand brushed against mine like she needed the reassurance.

I park the SUV and step out, barely acknowledging Eve as she heads to her car. I grab my phone from my pocket and lean against the hood of the car, scrolling through my messages until I find Tori’s name .

Blaze: How’s it going?

I hesitate for a moment before adding another line.

Blaze: I love you.

It’s simple, but it’s enough. I hit send and stare at the screen, half-expecting an immediate reply even though I know she’s probably busy. The phone buzzes a minute later, and her response makes my chest ache in the best way.

Doll: I love you too. Everything okay?

Blaze: Yeah. Just wanted to hear from you.

Her reply is almost instant this time.

Doll: You’re sweet when you’re not bossing everyone around.

I can practically hear the teasing tone in her voice, and it’s enough to make me chuckle.

Blaze: Someone has to keep Ryder in line.

Doll: Good luck with that.

She shoots back, followed by a winking emoji.

I tuck the phone back into my pocket, feeling a little lighter. Even with everything going on, she has a way of grounding me, making everything feel right again .

As I head inside, I catch a glimpse of Eve driving, offering a polite nod when she meets my gaze. She’s a puzzle I’m not sure I want to solve, but I know I’ll have to eventually.

For now, though, I need to focus. The discrepancies at the docks aren’t going to explain themselves, and if Diablo is testing me, I intend to pass—with or without Eve’s help.