CAISEN VALENTINE'S POVThe Venta Black Order Warehouse—Sector 9, New YorkThey say when a devil gets angry, the sky rips open. But when I get angry?The ground fucking shatters.I've tasted rage before—quiet, elegant, even seductive. The kind that lets you watch your enemies rot from the inside while you sip whiskey and smile.But this? This wasn't rage. This was annihilation on legs.I slammed open the warehouse doors, my men stepping back without needing to be told. They saw it in my eyes. They felt it in the air—thick like gunpowder, electric like a storm that's about to level the earth.Nobody spoke. Nobody breathed.Not unless they wanted to die tonight.The man I'd had kidnapped—Sam Matthew—sat bound to the metal chair like a stuffed pig waiting for the slaughter. His mouth was bloodied. One eye swollen shut. I hadn't touched him yet. This was my men's warm-up act.Now it was my turn.I stalked toward him, black coat trailing like shadow behind me, boots echoing like gunshots
CONRAD WILLIAM'S POVHe was too quiet.I didn't notice when he entered the office, but I felt the shift in the air the moment he stopped behind me. The silence stretched, thick and strange—until he spoke, voice coated with disbelief and something far more dangerous."What the fuck is this?" His tone didn't have anger, but something menaces like he has been pissed at something.I turned slowly, my blood running cold the second I saw what he held in his hand.The photo.That cursed photograph. The one where Lucian had his arm draped around my shoulder, both of us smiling like we didn't belong to a world soaked in blood and lies. I meant to hide it. Meant to burn it. But I couldn't let it go. It was stupid. Sentimental."Is this what you stare at when you think no one's watching?" he snarled, stepping closer. "You got a little schoolboy crush on Lucian now?"I didn't answer. My jaw tightened. My hands twitched at my sides.But he saw everything.He always did.Caisen's eyes darkened. Fur
CONRAD WILLIAM'S POVLucian left the room, leaving me— his disappointment in the dark.The first thing I noticed wasn't the guilt. It was the sting. A fresh one—low on my wrist, diagonal, red. Lying upon the already dark marks upon my wrist begging me to stop this torture maybe they are also tired of me living my life like this.like I have any choice.I'd done it in the bathroom, sometime between 1 a.m. and 2, when I came back from the failed mission. I think. Not deep. Not like that. I'm not suicidal. Not anymore.This isn't about dying. I don't want to die anymore but this is.This is about punishment.For slipping.For failing. For letting Edward vanish into the smoke.For letting him—Caisen—get too close.For getting on my knees... not for the mission, but for him.I press a hand over the cut, watching it stings under the gauze. The pain is dull now, muted under the bandage, but the shame is fresh—like acid in my bloodstream. This is how I atone. Not in prayer. Not in penance. B
CONRAD WILLIAM'S POVThe hallway was dim, lit only by red neon bleeding through the frosted glass. My boots echoed down the corridor as I headed toward the VIP room—the one I had carefully mapped out, watched from a distance, waited two damn years to breach.It should've been routine.But nothing about this night had gone according to plan.I pushed open the heavy velvet curtain, stepped in—And stopped.Empty.No laughter. No guards. No scotch glasses clinking over hushed bribes. No scent of cigars or sweat-soaked threats.Just emptiness. The monster was gone.Edward Miller.He had been here. I know he had.And now he was gone.Slipped through my fingers like smoke while I was busy on my knees... for someone else.My fists clenched at my sides.The mic was still in my pocket—untouched. The plan, shattered. The evidence? Lost to the dark.And Lucian?What the hell was I going to tell him?That I failed? That Edward vanished while I was too busy keeping Caisen from blowing the entire
CONRAD WILLIAM'S POV"If you are going to show me this attitude, then do it while you choke upon my dick."He grabbed me by collar, make me stand on my knees and face his half-erected bulge.while he took out a cigarette to blow & light it up."You better have some skills, to justify this slutty attitude of yours or else you know me."When I say Caisen Valentine isn't someone you cross—I mean it. This man will erase you so clean, the world won't even remember you existed.He's patient, sure. Smiles like nothing touches him. But the second that patience snaps?God help you.I've seen him ruin people. Break bones, crush throats, end lives—without flinching. All because he wanted something.And Caisen always gets what he wants.I brushed my face against his pants; my teeth took the zipper of his pants down. Meanwhile my eyes stayed on him making an eye contact looking at him in seduction.I took out his cock from his pants, with a piercing on the crown and definitely too big for me.I've
CONRAD WILLIAM'S POVThe lights were too bright. The music too loud. My breathing? Too uneven.I stood in the middle of the club wearing the most outrageous outfit I could find—black mesh shirt, glitter around my eyes, leather pants that screamed "notice me" even though I'd kill to disappear.I bought it all from the mall two hours before walking in here. Not my style. Not my comfort.But I needed a new skin tonight. Something loud enough to distract from the tremble beneath.Because I knew who I was here for.Him.The monster who made me what I am. Who branded my shame like a scar that never faded. And who, according to intel, would show up any minute.I didn't tell anyone how much my hands were shaking. Not Lucian. Not Ilya. I insisted on coming alone. I was stubborn about that. I said it was my mission, my revenge.But truth?I didn't want anyone else to see me like this. Weak. Fractured. Teetering on the edge of becoming that boy again.Sixteen.Helpless.Naked in someone else's v