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CHAPTER 11: SANDRO
publish date:
2026-09-30 02:58:48
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Devoured by the Syndicate King [18+] CHAPTER 11: SANDRO
The roar of the SUV’s V8 engine faded down the winding stone driveway, leaving behind a silence so thick it pressed against my ears.I stood on the east wing balcony, watching the red taillights of Thiago’s convoy vanish into the thick mountain fog. Cold rain drizzled over my face, soaking the collar of the dark flannel shirt I had stolen from his wardrobe. It still carried his scent—cedar, dark tobacco, and the warm, heavy musk of his skin. Every time I took a breath, my body flushed, remembering the agonizing, beautiful way he had driven himself inside me on the canopy bed just hours ago.I hated how easily he broke me down. I hated that beneath my rage, beneath the terror for my brother and the looming threat of Isaac Santos, my pulse hammered at the mere memory of his hands on my hips."Back inside, miss," a flat voice called out from behind me.I turned my head. Two armed guards stood in the doorway of the balcony, clad in black tactical gear with submachine guns slung across the
Devoured by the Syndicate King [18+] CHAPTER 10: THIAGO
The rain had settled into a quiet, relentless drizzle by mid-afternoon, enveloping the eastern wing of the estate in a grey, translucent fog.I stood near the arched entryway of the main gallery, watching Alessandra through the doorway of the study. She had refused the fresh clothes Dariusz offered, choosing instead to wear one of my dark flannel shirts over her jeans. It swallowed her frame, falling past her hips, but the sight of her dressed in my clothes—barefoot, her long dark hair pinned up with a stray pen—did something dangerous to my blood.She wasn't resting. True to her nature, she had spent the last two hours pacing behind my heavy mahogany desk, scrutinizing the financial ledgers and property titles I had left out for her. Her sharp hazel eyes darted across the pages with a cold, analytical focus that reminded me why she was so much more than a temporary distraction. Alessandra was a survivor, built from the rough edges of Porto Alegre, and she refused to remain a passive
Devoured by the Syndicate King [18+] CHAPTER 9: SANDRO
The name Isaac Santos felt like a drop of ice down my spine, instantly extinguishing the lingering, languid heat in my limbs.I pulled the charcoal silk sheet tighter across my breasts, sitting bolt upright against the carved mahogany headboard. My body still throbbed with the deep, intoxicating ache of Thiago’s touch, every nerve ending hyper-aware of his towering presence over the bed. But the sharp edge of survival—the instinct that had kept me alive on the streets of Porto Alegre—snapped instantly back into focus."Isaac Santos?" I repeated, my voice raspy as I met his unyielding amber gaze. "I know who he is. Everyone in Rio Grande do Sul knows who he is. He’s a high-ranking state assemblyman with his hands in half the commercial real estate from the docks to the border."Thiago didn't move an inch. He leaned over me, his heavy palms resting flat on the mattress on either side of my thighs, trapping me within his shadow. The scent of dark tobacco, cold rain, and the unmistakable
Devoured by the Syndicate King [18+] CHAPTER 8: THIAGO
The morning mist hung heavy over the east wing balcony, drifting through the cracked glass doors to mix with the scent of rain, woodsmoke, and the lingering warmth of the night before.I stood at the foot of the massive canopy bed, fastening the dark silver buckle of my leather belt. My eyes remained fixed on Sandro. She lay tangled in the charcoal silk sheets, her sun-kissed shoulders bare, her dark hair fan out across the pillows. Even in deep, exhausted sleep, her brow was slightly furrowed, her lips parted in a quiet rhythm that pulled at something dangerously raw in my chest.She had fought me with every breath until her body yielded, matching my intensity with a fierce, intoxicating passion that had left us both undone. But as the grey morning light cut through the room, the brutal realities of the syndicate settled back over my shoulders like a coat of lead.A quiet, double-knock sounded at the mahogany door.I moved across the room without a sound, unlocking the door and stepp
Devoured by the Syndicate King [18+] CHAPTER 7: SANDO
The master suite in the east wing smelled of cold rain, beeswax, and the heavy, undeniable scent of Thiago Krause.It was a cavernous room anchored by a massive, dark-canopied bed draped in charcoal silk. Broad French doors opened onto a private stone balcony overlooking the misty pine canopy of the Serra Gaúcha, but the iron deadbolt clicking into place on the outside of the mahogany door shattered any illusion of luxury. I was a prisoner. A gilded captive trapped in the lair of the man who had thoroughly, ruthlessly unraveled me just hours before.I paced the rug, my bare feet sinking into the thick wool. My wrists still bore faint red bands from the zip-ties, but my skin burned with a far more volatile heat. Every time I closed my eyes, I didn't see the armed enforcers or the storm-swept compound—I felt the bruising weight of Thiago’s hands mapping my hips, the rough scrape of his stubble against my inner thighs, and the staggering, possessive rhythm that had left me gasping agains
Devoured by the Syndicate King [18+] CHAPTER 6: THIAGO
The steady, heavy hum of the blacked-out SUV’s V8 engine vibrated through the floorboards as we wound through the narrow, rain-slicked mountain passes of the Serra Gaúcha. Outside, the tropical downpour turned the dense pine canopy into a blurred wall of dark green and grey, but inside the leather-lined interior, the atmosphere was suffocatingly tense.In the front passenger seat, Iago sat with one boot propped against the dash, casually twirling his bone-handled switchblade between his knuckles. The metallic click-clack of the blade opening and closing was the only sound breaking the silence. In the middle row, two of my senior enforcers kept their eyes glued to Kauã, who was shivering uncontrollably in his mud-stained rain jacket, staring at his boots like a man waiting for a firing squad.And in the far corner, her wrists bound loosely in front of her with heavy zip-ties, sat Sandro.My amber eyes tracked her through the ambient glow of the dashboard lights. She hadn't wept. She ha
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