Page 6

6: Tori

*Earlier that day*

The drive out of the estate felt longer today, probably because Gabe drives like we’re in a retirement parade. I swear I counted the same pothole three times, and my left leg won’t stop bouncing. Not that Gabe notices—he’s too busy being the world’s most stoic chauffeur. If he gets any quieter, I’ll have to start narrating my own thoughts just to fill the silence.

Okay, Tori, focus. This is fine. Everything is fine.

Except it’s not. Diablo’s “grand tour” of his empire is feeling less like a chance to learn and more like an audition for a reality tv show. Every building we’ve visited today has been crawling with people who’d sell their own mothers for a favor from him. I’ve smiled, nodded, and pretended I wasn’t itching to grab a fire extinguisher and start swinging. But hey, I’m learning, right?

Learning that my dad’s a control freak who probably sleeps with one eye open.

Gabe clears his throat, snapping me out of my spiral. His blue eyes flick to me briefly before returning to the road. “You okay back there?”

“Oh, you know,” I say, waving a hand. “Just contemplating the existential horror of inheriting a criminal empire. No big deal.”

His lips twitch, but he stays stoic as ever. Gabe never seems to smile. I’m convinced his face would crack if he tried .

“You’ll get used to it,” he says, like that’s supposed to be comforting.

“Yeah, sure. Just like you get used to paper cuts or stepping on Legos.” I cross my arms, slouching deeper into the seat. “What’s next on the ‘Tori Learns the Family Business’ tour? Organ harvesting? Or is that too hands-on?”

“Funny,” Gabe says dryly. “But no. Just more stops to show you how things operate.”

I glance out the window, catching sight of a scraggly patch of forest we’re passing. “Fascinating. Can’t wait for the highlight reel.”

He doesn’t respond, and the silence stretches long enough for me to feel the itch of my own curiosity. “So,” I say, leaning forward in my seat, “how did you end up working for Diablo? Did you, like, lose a bet or something?”

Gabe glances at me, his expression unreadable. “I was recruited.”

“Recruited,” I echo. “That sounds ominous.”

“It’s not a story you’d find interesting,” he replies, his tone dismissive.

“Oh, come on,” I press, resting my chin on my hand. “You’ve got that whole ‘mysterious bodyguard’ vibe going on. At least give me something. Did you grow up in this world? Were you, like, groomed to be the perfect soldier?”

His grip on the steering wheel tightens ever so slightly. “Something like that.”

“Wow,” I say, dragging the word out. “That was so specific and detailed. I feel like I know your entire life story now.”

“You’re relentless, you know that?” he mutters, though there’s a faint note of amusement in his voice.

“It’s a gift,” I say, taking a small bow. “So, what’s the deal with you and Diablo? Are you just his favorite henchman, or is there more to it?”

“Why are you so curious?”

“Because you’re going to be around all the time, and I have to figure out whether you’re a terrifying enigma or just really good at your job.”

He lets out a low chuckle, surprising me. “I’ll let you decide.”

Before I can push further, Gabe’s eyes narrow and he adjusts the rearview mirror. “We’re being followed.”

“What?” I twist in my seat, craning my neck to look out the back window. Sure enough, a dark SUV is tailing us, keeping a fixed distance but matching our speed.

“Stay calm,” Gabe says, his voice sharp and focused. “It could be nothing.”

“Yeah, because random cars following us is super normal.”

He ignores me, his hands steady on the wheel as he takes a sharp turn onto a dirt road. The tires kick up a cloud of dust, and the car behind us speeds up, closing the gap.

“Uh, Gabe?” I say, gripping the door handle as the car jostles over the uneven terrain. “What’s the plan here?”

“Hold on,” he says, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Before I can demand a better explanation, a second SUV accelerates and slams into us with too much force not to leave a mark. My head smacks against the window, and for a second, stars explode in my vision.

“Son of a—” I cut myself off, rubbing my temple as Gabe yanks the wheel, trying to control the car.

“Are you okay?” he asks, his voice tight with concern.

“Peachy,” I mutter, wincing as another jolt rocks the car. “What the hell is their problem?”

“Probably not fans of my driving,” he says dryly, his focus laser-sharp as he navigates the narrow road.

Did he just make a joke?

“Stay down," he commands, driving like he's raced in Nascar before .

“Stay down?” I echo, my voice rising. “Gabe, it's not like they're shooting at us."

Another ram sends the car skidding, and I nearly tumble out of my seat. Gabe mutters a curse under his breath, jerking the wheel again to keep us on the road.

“Just trust me,” he says, his voice hard.

“Trust you? You’re the one who got us into a demolition derby!”

The SUV behind us revs its engine, preparing for another hit. Gabe slams on the brakes suddenly, and the car jerks violently. The SUV shoots past us, skidding to a stop a few yards ahead.

“Stay here,” Gabe orders, unbuckling his seatbelt and reaching for his gun.

“Like hell I’m staying here,” I snap, fumbling with my seatbelt. My head still throbs, but adrenaline is surging now, drowning out everything else.

“Tori,” he says sharply, his gaze locking with mine. “I need you to trust me.”

I hesitate, my fingers hovering over the seatbelt clasp. There’s something in his eyes—something unyielding—that makes me pause. Finally, I nod, sinking back into the seat.

“Fine,” I mutter. “But if you get yourself killed, I’m stealing the car.”

And running everyone over.

He doesn’t respond, already stepping out of the vehicle. My heart pounds as I watch him approach the other SUV, his gun drawn and his posture radiating calm authority. The driver’s door opens, and a man steps out—a broad-shouldered figure with a shaved head and a scar running down one side of his face.

To my surprise, they don't start shooting. Nope, they exchange words, but I can’t hear what’s being said over the roar of blood in my ears. My fingers tap against the armrest, a nervous rhythm I can’t stop. The passenger door of the SUV opens, and another man steps out, his hand hovering near his waistband.

“Gabe!” I shout, leaning out of the window. “Watch—”

Before I can finish, the second man lunges, pulling a knife. Gabe moves like lightning, disarming him with a swift motion and sending him sprawling to the ground. The first man charges but Gabe’s ready, delivering a sharp kick to his knee that drops him instantly.

It’s over in seconds, but my heart feels like it’s been running a marathon. Gabe stands over the two men, his expression cold and impassive. He glances back at me, and I can’t help but notice the way his jaw tightens.

“You okay?” he asks as he returns to the car, sliding into the driver’s seat.

“Define ‘okay,’” I say, my voice shaking slightly. “Because if it means having a minor heart attack, then yeah, I’m great.”

He exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. “We’ll talk about this later. Right now, we need to move.”

“Move where?”

“Anywhere but here,” he says, starting the engine. “Buckle up.”

I do as he says, though my hands are still trembling. As the car pulls back onto the road, I glance at Gabe, my mind racing with questions I don’t even know how to ask.

“Gabe?”

“Yeah?”

“What the hell just happened?”

He doesn’t answer right away, his focus on the road ahead. Finally, he sighs, his shoulders relaxing a tad. “Welcome to the family business.”

I groan, rubbing the side of my head where it smacked against the car window. “Next time, I’m driving.”

He doesn't laugh. Big shocker. Instead, his eyes dart to the rearview mirror for the hundredth time, his hands gripping the wheel like it’s the only thing keeping us alive. Which, judging by the way my ears are ringing, might not be far from the truth.

“Is your head okay?” he asks, finally sparing me a glance.

“Oh, yeah, just great,” I reply, even though my head’s pounding and I’m pretty sure I’ll have a window-shaped bruise to show off later. “Just another day in the glamorous life of Tori Reyes. You?”

“Could be better.” His voice is clipped, his focus back on the road—or what’s left of it. The dirt path we’re bouncing along is narrow and lined with trees that look like they’re ready to snatch us off the road. “You hit your head pretty hard.”

“Yeah, well, the window hit back,” I mutter, touching the sore spot gingerly. “Wanna actually tell me what happened now?”

“Not exactly.” He hesitates, and that hesitation tells me everything I need to know: whatever’s going on, it’s bad.

“Gabe,” I drawl, giving him my best ‘don’t screw with me’ look. “Spill. Now.”

He sighs, his shoulders slumping just an inch. “They’re part of a group that’s been trying to edge in on Diablo’s territory. Small-time, but persistent. They’ve been causing problems at a few of his operations.”

“And by ‘problems,’ you mean…”

“Attacks. Threats. Attempts to take over.” He clenches his teeth, and his knuckles whiten on the steering wheel. “This wasn’t random. They know who you are.”

I blink, processing that little nugget of information. “So, what? They were hoping to kidnap me and use me as leverage? Because I killed the last guy that tried.”

And it still makes me sick.

“You’re more than leverage,” he says, his voice quiet but firm. “You’re his daughter. ”

I roll my eyes, even though my stomach twists at the thought. “Yeah, well, someone should send out a memo. ‘Tori Reyes: she kicks, bites, and kills.’”

Gabe doesn’t respond. Instead, he slows the car as we approach a clearing. The dirt road widens, revealing a small, dilapidated building that looks like it’s one strong gust away from collapsing.

Great. Another stellar destination.

“Where are we now?” I ask, squinting at the place. The sign above the door is faded, the letters barely legible.

“One of Diablo’s fronts,” Gabe says, parking the car and cutting the engine. “A bar. Or it was, until someone decided they wanted to set it on fire. Now it's a rundown place we stash things in.”

“And we’re here because…?”

“Because places like this need to be checked on from time to time, and today is that time, seeing as I'm going to need more ammo than I originally thought.” He opens his door, glancing back at me. “Stay close. And keep your phone ready, just in case.”

I pull my phone from my pocket, only to notice the screen is destroyed, cracked to hell. Not exactly sure how that happened. “Yeah, about that. My phone’s not exactly in fighting shape right now.”

I only got to text Blaze a couple of times this morning and now I won’t be able to text Thorne or Ryder and check on them.

Fucking goons .

Gabe glances at the shattered screen and frowns. “Stay close anyway.”

We step out of the car, the cool air biting at my skin. The place is eerily quiet, the kind of quiet that makes your instincts scream at you to turn around and run. But, because I apparently have a death wish, I follow Gabe toward the building.

Inside, the air is stale and heavy, carrying the faint scent of spilled beer and something sour. The place is a wreck. Tables overturned, chairs broken, glass littering the floor. It looks like a tornado decided to stop for a drink and didn’t like the service.

“Nice place,” I mutter, stepping over a broken bottle. “Definitely has that ‘welcome home’ vibe.”

Gabe doesn’t reply. He’s scanning the room, his posture stiff. “Stay here.”

“Yeah, sure. Because splitting up in a creepy, abandoned bar is always a good idea,” I mutter under my breath. But I stay put, watching as he moves deeper into the building.

This is how people die in horror movies.

They split up.

He disappears around a corner, leaving me alone with the broken furniture and my own thoughts. I fidget with the belt loops of my jeans, my mind racing. If those guys from earlier were willing to ram us off the road, what’s to say someone else won’t try something here? And with my phone out of commission, I’m basically a damsel in distress.

I’m about to call out to Gabe when a loud crash echoes from the back of the bar. My heart leaps into my throat, and before I can think better of it, I’m moving toward the sound.

Curiosity killed the cat, Tori. Like, literally, you could die .

“Gabe?” I call softly, my voice barely above a whisper.

Another crash. Louder this time. My pulse pounds in my ears as I round the corner, my eyes scanning the dimly lit hallway. Gabe’s voice rings out, sharp and commanding, followed by a string of curses that definitely don’t sound like him.

I step closer, peeking into the room at the end of the hall. Gabe is there, facing off against two guys who look like they’ve been bench-pressing cars for fun. One of them lunges, and Gabe moves faster than I thought possible, dodging the attack and countering with a punch that sends the guy stumbling back .

The second guy notices me before Gabe does, his eyes narrowing as he takes a step in my direction. My stomach drops, and I instinctively reach for the nearest object—a broken chair leg—holding it like a makeshift weapon.

“Tori, get back!” Gabe’s voice is sharp, cutting through the chaos. But the guy doesn’t stop, his focus locked on me.

Gabe moves like a storm, slamming into the guy and knocking him off balance. The first thug is back on his feet, charging at Gabe like a bull. Gabe sidesteps him, delivering a brutal elbow to his ribs that makes me wince just watching. The guy wheezes, clutching his side, but Gabe doesn’t let up. He grabs the thug by the collar, slamming him against the wall hard enough to rattle the shelves nearby.

The second guy tries to capitalize on the distraction, lunging at Gabe from behind. But Gabe spins, his movements fluid and precise, and lands a kick to the guy’s knee that sends him crumpling to the floor with a scream.

Maybe Gabe is John Wick in real life.

I'm sure there's a pencil somewhere around here…

“You want to keep going?” Gabe growls, his voice low and dangerous. He steps toward the first thug, who’s still pinned against the wall. “Because I’ve got all day.”

The guy’s eyes dart between Gabe and his friend on the ground, calculating his odds.

They’re not good.

“Alright, man. We’re done,” he mutters, raising his hands in surrender. Gabe releases him with a shove, and he stumbles toward the door, dragging his injured friend with him.

“Next time,” Gabe calls after them, his tone cold enough to freeze water, “you’ll wish you stayed home.”

The silence that follows hurts my ears. Gabe turns to me, his expression a mix of anger and concern. “What part of ‘stay here’ did you not understand? ”

“The part where you thought I’d actually listen,” I shoot back, my voice shaky despite my attempt at humor.

His jaw tightens but he doesn’t argue. Instead, he lets out a heavy sigh, his hand gripping my arm. “Are you okay?”

I nod, even though my knees feel like they might give out at any second. “Yeah. Thanks to you.”

He studies me for a moment longer before his grip softens. “Let’s get out of here.”

I don’t argue, watching him grab the ammo he needs, and then following him back to the car. My head’s still spinning, but one thing is clear: if Gabe keeps this up, I might actually start trusting him.

We drive with the setting sun as our scenery, the orange and pinks easing my troubles for a moment. Thankfully, we're heading home, where I can finally be surrounded by the people I want to be around.

I wonder if it would have been better to go to college?

The estate comes into view, and my heart races with excitement, ready to bury my face into their chests and feel their arms wrap around me. I've missed them, and being away from them with Gabe has been torture.

The bump from the earlier car ‘adventure’ with Gabe hasn’t stopped throbbing, and my patience for today is officially dead. I glance at my bodyguard as he parks, his expression neutral as always, but his finger taps against the steering wheel—a subtle sign he’s bracing for impact. He knows he's about to have to deal with Thorne, Ryder, and Blaze.

The second the SUV comes to a halt, the front door bursts open. Thorne and Blaze storm out, their faces like thunderclouds. Thorne reaches the back door first, yanking the door open before I can even unbuckle.

“You okay?” he asks, his dark eyes scanning me for injuries. His hand hovers near my head, his thumb grazing the bump gently .

“I’m fine,” I say, though the wince I fail to suppress probably doesn’t help my case.

“Fine?” Blaze’s voice is sharp as he rounds the car, his gaze zeroing in on the swelling. “That doesn’t look fine, Doll.”

Before I can reply, Gabe steps out of the driver’s seat, drawing their attention like moths to a flame.

“What the hell happened?” Blaze demands, his tone icy. “You’re supposed to keep her safe, not let her get banged up.”

“It was unavoidable,” Gabe replies evenly, though his calm demeanor only seems to stoke their anger.

“Unavoidable?” Thorne’s voice drops to a dangerous low, his hand curling into a fist at his side. “You mean to tell me you couldn’t avoid letting her get hurt?”

“She’s here, isn’t she?” Gabe’s gaze doesn’t waver, his tone unflinching. “Sometimes keeping her safe means taking calculated risks.”

Oh, great. That word—calculated. Thorne’s least favorite when it comes to anything involving me.

“Calculated risks?” Blaze echoes, his voice rising. “She's hurt, Morales. What part of that screams safe to you?”

I sigh, slipping out of the SUV while they’re busy verbally mauling each other. Normally I wouldn't mind watching this unfold. But, really, I am fine, and my stomach is growling too loudly to ignore, reminding me that I’ve had exactly zero food since this morning. The bump on my head is annoying, sure, but my hunger is downright murderous.

Leaving the three testosterone tornadoes behind, I head for the kitchen. The familiar scent of something delicious wafts through the air, but the sound of hushed laughter stops me in my tracks.

Rounding the corner, I find Ryder and Lila at the kitchen island. She’s perched on a stool, leaning in closer to him than necessary, her hand brushing his arm as she laughs at something he said. My hands clench into fists as I take in the scene. Lila’s wearing a too-tight blazer, with no shirt underneath, and I swear I can feel the fire burning behind my eyes.

Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.

Bitch stole my move.

Ryder, for his part, looks as entertained as the wall. My stomach twists, a mix of irritation and something sharper cutting through me. She knows that he and I are together, yet she's sitting here in our house—flirting. Not only does she look fucking pathetic, she's disrespecting me!

I’m about two seconds away from letting her know exactly what I think when Ryder’s gaze shifts. His eyes meet mine, and the grin that spreads across his face is nothing short of devilish.

“KitKat,” he says, his voice warm and teasing. “Perfect timing.”

Lila glances over her shoulder, her expression faltering when she sees me.

Good. You should feel awkward.

Before she can say anything, Ryder grabs the sandwich he was holding and tosses it at her. She catches it awkwardly, her mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.

“You enjoy your dinner,” Ryder says, his tone light but laced with finality. “I’m going to go enjoy mine.”

Then, with zero warning, he strides toward me, scoops me up, and slings me over his shoulder like I weigh nothing.

“Ryder!” I yelp, my fists pounding weakly against his back. “Put me down!”

“Nope,” he replies cheerfully, his hand resting on the back of my thigh to keep me steady. “You’re exactly where I want you.”

“Ryder, I swear—”

“Relax, KitKat,” he interrupts, his voice dipping lower as he carries me up the stairs. “You’re going to love what I’ve got planned. ”

My protests die in my throat as his words sink in, heat blooming across my cheeks. By the time we reach the bedroom, my irritation is a distant memory, replaced by anticipation that has my heart racing.

I'm still hungry, but that can wait now.

Ryder kicks the door shut behind us, his grin widening as he sets me down gently. The way he’s looking at me sends a shiver down my spine—like I’m the only thing that matters in the world.

“Now,” he murmurs, his hands trailing up my arms, “where were we?”

I don’t bother answering. Words aren’t necessary for this.