The Devil's Bargain

Venom led her through the crowd of criminals and corrupt officials, his hand resting possessively on her lower back in a gesture that made her skin crawl. The party was in full swing—expensive champagne flowed freely, women in revealing dresses moved through the crowd like predators themselves, and the air was thick with the scent of power, money, and barely controlled violence.

"You look beautiful tonight," Venom said, his pale eyes traveling over her black dress with obvious appreciation. "Much better than the frightened woman who used to ask questions about her dead boyfriend."

"Fear has a way of clarifying one's priorities," Raven replied, keeping her voice steady despite the way his touch made her want to recoil. "I realized that revenge is a luxury I can't afford."

"Wisdom often comes at a steep price." He guided her toward a raised platform at the far end of the room, where leather chairs were arranged around a low table laden with drugs, weapons, and stacks of cash. "Tell me, what made you finally see reason?"

"Watching good men die for my mistakes," she said, drawing on the very real guilt she felt over the Saints who had died in this war. "I'm tired of being responsible for so much bloodshed."

Venom's smile was sharp as a blade. "And yet you were willing to orchestrate the massacre at Jax's warehouse. That didn't seem to trouble your conscience."

The accusation hung in the air like a challenge. Raven felt the eyes of nearby criminals turning toward them, sensing the tension building between predator and prey. This was the moment that would determine whether her deception held or crumbled.

"That was different," she said, meeting his gaze directly. "That was war. This is just... senseless slaughter. Your people are dying, his people are dying, and for what? Pride?"

"Pride is everything in our world," Venom corrected, his hand tightening on her back. "A man who allows himself to be humiliated, who permits his enemies to make him look weak, doesn't deserve to lead. Surely you understand that."

"I understand that I'm tired of running," Raven replied. "Tired of looking over my shoulder, tired of being afraid. I want this to end."

"And what are you prepared to offer me to make that happen?"

This was it—the moment she had to sell the lie that would either save them all or get her killed. Raven glanced around the room, noting the positions of guards and potential exits, before leaning closer to Venom.

"Everything," she said quietly. "The location of Jax's remaining safe houses. The identities of his suppliers. The routes they use to move drugs and guns. Everything I learned during my time with the Saints."

Venom's eyes lit up with hunger and satisfaction. "And in return?"

"Safe passage out of the city. A new identity. Enough money to disappear permanently." She let desperation creep into her voice. "I just want to survive this, Vincent. I want to wake up tomorrow without wondering if today is the day someone puts a bullet in my head."

The use of his first name was calculated—a sign of submission, of intimacy that would stroke his ego. She could see it working, could see the way his posture straightened with pride and power.

"You fascinate me, Raven," he said, his voice dropping to a purr. "Most women in your position would be begging for mercy, offering their bodies in exchange for their lives. But you come to me with business. With valuable intelligence. It's... refreshing."

"I learned a long time ago that sex is temporary but information is forever," she replied, fighting the urge to flinch as his hand moved to rest on her thigh.

"Indeed." Venom gestured to one of his men, a heavily tattooed enforcer she recognized as Fang from the intelligence files. "Bring us some privacy screens. I want to hear everything Ms. Steele has to tell me, and some conversations require discretion."

As ornate wooden screens were positioned around their seating area, creating a semi-private alcove within the larger room, Raven felt her pulse quicken. The communication device hidden in her jewelry was still transmitting, which meant Ghost could hear everything being said. More importantly, it meant Jax knew exactly where she was and what was happening.

"Now then," Venom said, pouring himself a glass of expensive whiskey while deliberately not offering her one, "let's begin with the safe houses. How many locations is Savage using?"

Raven took a breath, preparing to feed him a mixture of truth and carefully crafted lies that would keep him talking while giving Jax time to get into position. "Three primary locations, plus two backup sites that only his inner circle knows about."

"Addresses?"

She rattled off a series of locations—some real, some abandoned, all carefully chosen to send Venom's forces away from the actual Saints' strongholds. As she spoke, she could see him mentally cataloguing the information, already planning the strikes that would crush his enemies once and for all.

"Impressive," he said when she finished. "And the suppliers? I'm particularly interested in their weapons dealer."

"Marcus Torres," she said, giving him the name of a man who had been arrested six months ago—information that was true but useless. "He runs shipments up from Mexico through a network of trucking companies."

"I know Torres. He's been in federal custody since—" Venom's eyes narrowed as he realized she'd just given him outdated intelligence.

"Since June," Raven finished, her heart hammering as she saw suspicion flicker across his face. "Which is why the Saints have been scrambling for new suppliers. They're vulnerable right now, desperate enough to work with anyone who can deliver."

The explanation seemed to satisfy him, and she saw his features relax slightly. But she also noticed how his hand had moved closer to the pistol holstered beneath his suit jacket.

"You're very well informed," he observed. "Tell me, how long were you actually working with Savage? Because your story about the grieving girlfriend looking for answers is starting to seem rather... convenient."

The question was a trap, and they both knew it. Raven felt sweat beading on her forehead despite the cool air conditioning. This was the moment her carefully constructed cover story would either hold or fall apart completely.

"Long enough to learn that Michael Rodriguez was working for you when he died," she said, gambling on a different kind of truth. "Long enough to realize that getting close to Jax was the only way I'd ever find out what really happened."

"And what did you discover?"

"That Michael was killed because he was skimming from your drug shipments," she lied smoothly. "Jax showed me the evidence—photographs, financial records, testimony from witnesses. Your people executed him for theft, not because he was trying to expose some grand conspiracy."

It was a lie built on a foundation of truth—drug dealers who stole from their suppliers often ended up dead, and Venom would have no reason to doubt such a mundane explanation. More importantly, it painted Michael as a common criminal rather than a potential threat to the Diamondbacks' more serious operations.

"Michael always was too greedy for his own good," Venom said after a moment, his tone suggesting he was buying the deception. "I'm almost disappointed—I was hoping for a more interesting story."

"Sometimes the truth is more boring than the legend," Raven replied, relief flooding through her as she realized she'd passed another test.

"Indeed. Now, about Jax himself—what can you tell me about his current state of mind? Is he planning to retaliate for tonight's losses, or is he preparing to cut his losses and run?"

This was the crucial question, the one that would determine how Venom positioned his forces for the final confrontation. Raven chose her words carefully, knowing that Jax's life might depend on the intelligence she provided.

"He's desperate," she said, letting her voice carry the weight of conviction. "Half his territory is gone, most of his resources are depleted, and his own people are starting to question his leadership. He's talking about one final strike—something to salvage his reputation before the club votes him out."

"What kind of strike?"

"Your compound," she said, watching Venom's eyes widen with interest. "He's planning to hit you here, at your home base. He thinks if he can eliminate you personally, the Diamondbacks will fracture and he can reclaim his territory."

"When?"

"Soon. Maybe tonight, maybe tomorrow. He's waiting for the right moment when your guard is down." She leaned forward slightly, selling the deception with body language. "That's why I came to you. I knew that if I stayed with the Saints, I'd die when you retaliated. But if I gave you advance warning..."

"You'd earn yourself a reprieve," Venom finished, his smile returning. "Very clever, my dear. Very pragmatic."

Through her hidden communication device, she could hear the faint sound of movement—Jax and his team getting into position. The party continued around them, but she knew that beneath the surface, a deadly game of cat and mouse was being played by experts in violence.

"There's one more thing," she said, preparing to deliver the final piece of bait that would seal Venom's fate. "Jax isn't planning to come alone. He's called in favors from every club that owes him, every ally he has left. This won't be a small strike—it'll be an army."

Venom's expression sharpened with interest and concern. "How many men?"

"Fifty, maybe more. They're gathering at the old steel mill on the east side, waiting for his signal." Another lie, but one that would draw Venom's attention away from his compound and toward an empty building across the city.

"When you say army..." Venom began, but his words were cut off by the sound of gunfire erupting somewhere in the building.

Chaos exploded around them. Guards rushed toward the source of the shooting while guests screamed and dove for cover. Through the ornate screens surrounding their private alcove, Raven could see muzzle flashes and figures moving with tactical precision.

Venom's hand closed around her wrist like a vise. "It seems your former lover decided not to wait," he snarled, his pale eyes blazing with fury and realization. "How convenient that his attack comes just as you're here offering intelligence."

"I don't know what—" she began, but he cut her off by pressing the barrel of his pistol against her temple.

"Drop the act, bitch. This whole thing was a setup, wasn't it? You're still working for Savage." His finger tightened on the trigger. "The only question is whether I kill you quickly or take my time."

Before she could respond, the screens around them exploded inward as a figure in black tactical gear crashed through them. Jax rolled to his feet in one fluid motion, assault rifle trained on Venom's chest, his hazel eyes blazing with lethal fury.

"Let her go," he said, his voice carrying the absolute authority of a man who had killed many times and would kill again without hesitation.

"I don't think so," Venom replied, his grip on Raven tightening as he used her as a human shield. "It seems we have ourselves a standoff."

The final confrontation had begun, and Raven found herself caught between the two most dangerous men she'd ever known, with nothing but her wits and the promise of Jax's love to keep her alive.