The next night, I stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the silk dress Selene had chosen for me. Midnight blue, with a slit running up the side—elegant but dangerous. The kind of dress that whispered promises but never made any guarantees. Selene watched from the doorway, arms crossed. “You’re nervous.” I scoffed, smoothing my hair. “No, I’m just—” “Nervous,” she repeated, smirking. “It’s normal. First time walking into the lion’s den on your own.” I turned to face her. “And Michael Devereaux is the lion?” She tilted her head. “One of them. But don’t make the mistake of thinking he’s the only one watching.” That sent a shiver down my spine. I exhaled slowly. “So what’s the real goal here? You trained me, dressed me up, sent me into that bar—what does Damien really want?” Selene’s smirk softened just a little. “You’re smart, Winnie. You’ll figure it out.” I hated that answer. But I hated feeling powerless even more. Eden looked just as it had the night before, b
I was beginning to understand that I wasn’t just caught in a game—I was the piece everyone wanted to move. And I hated that. A cigarette flared in the darkness. I knew before I saw him that Damien was waiting. “You’ve been busy.” His voice was smooth, casual, but I wasn’t stupid. There was always an edge to Damien’s words, a blade hidden beneath silk. I leaned against the brick wall, crossing my arms. “You tell me to get close to Michael. Now you’re acting like I did something wrong?” Damien chuckled softly, stepping into the glow of the streetlamp. He was always impeccably dressed, like nothing in the world could ever touch him. “I didn’t say you did anything wrong, sweetheart. But you went to his place.” I shrugged, feigning indifference. “That was the point, wasn’t it?” He studied me for a long moment, exhaling smoke into the night. “What did he tell you?” Damien finally asked. I hesitated, then met his gaze. “He asked if you own me.” A slow, knowing smile spread across D
The number Michael had given me burned a hole in my pocket. I hadn’t called it. Not yet. But I carried it with me everywhere, like a secret, like a weapon I wasn’t sure I was ready to use. Because once I did, there would be no turning back. Damien had made that clear. Michael had made that clear. And I was stuck in the space between them, walking the edge of a knife. --- I was behind the bar at Edenwhen the first sign of trouble arrived. It was a man I had seen before—one of Damien’s enforcers. Big, mean, the kind of guy who had never heard the word “no” and didn’t know what to do when he did. His name was Carter, and he wasn’t here for a drink. He leaned against the bar, giving me a lazy smile. “You’ve been quiet.” I poured a drink for another customer, ignoring him. “Didn’t realize I had to check in.” Carter chuckled, but there was no humor in it. “Damien wants to see you.” My stomach twisted. I glanced around the lounge. Selene was watching from
The plan wasn’t simple. It wasn’t safe. But neither was I. Michael had given me two choices—walk away and survive, or stay and burn it all down with him. And I had already made my choice. There was no walking away from this. Not anymore. The first step was to convince Damien that I was still his. That meant playing the part. So the next night, I went back to Eden, back to Damien’s world, and I let him think he still had control over me. I laughed at his jokes. I followed his orders. I let him believe I was still the girl he had taken in years ago—desperate and obedient. But inside, I was sharpening my knife. Waiting for the moment to strike. Selene found me at the bar, her presence a quiet weight beside me. She didn’t speak at first, just watched as I nursed the drink Damien had sent over. Whiskey. Neat. He always liked to test me with it, watching to see if I’d flinch at the burn. I didn’t. Selene sighed, finally breaking the silence. “You’re doing the right thing.” I
Michael’s words echoed in my head long after I left his car. "You’re going to betray me, Winnie. Just like he wants." I understood what he meant. We had to make it look real. Damien wasn’t stupid. He would expect proof—something undeniable. And that meant Michael and I had to stage the perfect betrayal. But that also meant trusting Michael completely. And trust was a dangerous thing. The next night, I met Michael at an abandoned warehouse on the edge of town. He was waiting for me, leaning against his car, a cigarette dangling from his fingers. The dim glow of the streetlights cast long shadows around us, making the moment feel even more ominous. “You’re late,” he said, exhaling smoke. I shrugged. “Had to make sure I wasn’t followed.” Michael smirked, tossing his cigarette to the ground and crushing it under his boot. “Good. You’re learning.” I folded my arms. “So, what’s the plan?” Michael opened the car door and pulled out a small black case. He flipped it
The walls of Eden felt tighter that night, suffocating, like they were closing in on me. I had lied to Damien and gotten away with it—for now. But I knew that didn’t mean I was safe. It only meant I was walking on a razor’s edge, and one wrong move would send me tumbling into the abyss. Michael was still out cold. If anything went wrong before he woke up, everything we had worked for would fall apart. I needed to keep Damien convinced. I needed to keep my head above water. And I needed to do it alone. Damien called for me again the next night. I walked into his office, my pulse pounding in my ears. He was behind his desk as usual, swirling a fresh glass of whiskey, his expression unreadable. “You surprised me, Winnie,” he said. I kept my face blank. “How?” He leaned back in his chair, watching me with those cold, calculating eyes. “I thought you would hesitate. I thought you’d try to find a way out of it.” I shrugged. “You gave me an order. I followed it.” Damien
Michael’s words hit me like a punch to the gut. I stared at the folded piece of paper in his hands, my mind racing. "The only person who can help us bring Damien down." My mission had just changed. I wasn’t just being tested anymore—I was standing at a crossroads, and whichever path I chose would determine if I lived or died. Michael slowly pushed himself up, groaning as he shook off the lingering effects of the compound. His face was still pale, and I could see the exhaustion dragging at his features. But his eyes were sharp. Focused. Determined. I swallowed hard. “Who is he?” Michael hesitated. Then he said, “His name is Daniel Carter. He used to work for Damien.” That made my stomach drop. “Used to?” I repeated. Michael nodded. “He was Damien’s accountant—handled all the money, all the offshore accounts, all the dirty transactions. But then something changed.” I frowned. “What?” Michael leaned back against the bar, his fingers running through his hai
Carter and I didn’t have much time. Damien was expecting proof of his death, and if I didn’t deliver it soon, he’d start asking questions. Questions I couldn’t afford to answer. We needed a body. Or at least something convincing enough to make Damien believe Carter was dead. We worked quickly. The warehouse was filled with abandoned crates, broken equipment, and discarded tarps. Michael had taught me a few things about deception, and I was about to put them to the test. Carter found an old mannequin in the storage room—dusty, missing an arm, but still usable. “We need blood,” I muttered, pulling out my knife. Carter frowned. “What are you—” Before he could stop me, I sliced a shallow cut across my arm, just enough to make it bleed. “Jesus,” Carter swore. I ignored him, letting the blood drip onto the mannequin’s chest. It wasn’t perfect, but under the right lighting, it would look real enough. Next, we set up the scene. We dragged the mannequin to a dark corn
The building was eerily quiet as we stepped inside, the fluorescent lights overhead humming softly. My pulse quickened, and I could feel the tension radiating between Carter and me. We’d made the decision to face our past, but now that we were here, standing in the place where it all could change again, I could feel the weight of it press down on me. Langford’s office was sparse—an unremarkable desk with a few scattered papers and a large window overlooking the city. It was the kind of place you’d expect a man like him to have. Clean, efficient, and entirely devoid of warmth. Langford himself was already waiting for us, seated behind the desk, his expression unreadable as we entered. His sharp eyes flicked over us, his gaze lingering just a moment longer on Carter, then me. "Well," Langford said, folding his hands together. "I assume you have a reason for reaching out after all this time." Carter didn’t say anything, but I could feel the tension in his body as he stood beside me.
The days passed like ripples in a quiet pond. Each morning, the sun would rise, casting its golden light through the trees and into our cabin, reminding me that we were still alive, still breathing, still here. The world felt smaller now, confined to the space we had carved out for ourselves in this remote corner of the world. The distant hum of civilization—of life before—had all but faded into the background. But even in this peace, there was still something that lingered in the shadows. The world was not as forgiving as it seemed. No matter how far we ran, how hard we tried to outrun our past, there were always reminders that we couldn’t escape it entirely. Carter noticed it too. He always did. One evening, as we sat on the porch, watching the last light of the day slip away, he turned to me with a quiet intensity in his eyes. "Winnie," he began, his voice low, "We can’t keep pretending like it’s all over." I met his gaze, my heart skipping a beat. "What do you mean?" He leane
The days bled together in a haze of quiet routines. It was almost as if the world had forgotten us. The noise of the city, the sirens, the ever-present fear of being caught—it felt like a distant memory now. The cabin was small, tucked away in the woods, isolated from the rest of the world. And though the simplicity of it offered a certain peace, there were moments when the stillness felt almost suffocating. We were supposed to be starting over. But even in this solitude, I could still hear the echo of everything we had left behind. The choices we had made, the blood that stained our hands, and the lives we had altered. And yet, there were moments when I felt like I could breathe again. Moments when I would catch Carter’s gaze across the room, his eyes soft and warm, and for a brief moment, I would believe that maybe we could have the life we dreamed of. Together. Free. I was lying on the couch, scrolling through the news on my phone. Nothing too shocking—just the usual political d
The decision felt like it came too soon, but deep down, I knew it was inevitable. We couldn't stay. The city, once so full of life, now felt like a prison. Every corner, every shadow held the memory of what we’d done, who we had become. The police, the enemies still lurking in the dark corners of our past, and even our own doubts—it was all closing in. But I wasn't afraid. Not anymore. As Carter and I stood in the dimly lit apartment we’d briefly called home, I found myself staring out the window. The world outside seemed oblivious to what we had just gone through. Cars sped past, people laughed and talked on their phones, as if nothing had changed. But everything had. “Are you ready?” Carter’s voice broke through my thoughts, steady but filled with an undercurrent of uncertainty. He was standing by the door, his hand on the handle, ready to leave. His bag was already packed, and I could see the familiar determination in his eyes—the one that had gotten us through everything. But t
The city had never felt quieter. We walked through the back alley, the sounds of the world outside muffled by the thick walls of the warehouse. Sirens wailed in the distance, but the chaos that had erupted earlier seemed like a lifetime ago. I hadn’t realized how much I’d been holding my breath until the silence settled in, finally giving me the space to feel what I had been avoiding: the weight of everything we had done. Carter’s hand brushed against mine as we walked. The touch was a comfort, but it also felt like a lifeline, pulling me out of the dark thoughts swirling in my head. We had fought so hard to get here, to put an end to everything that had haunted us. Yet now that it was over, a part of me felt lost. I glanced at him, trying to gauge his thoughts, but his expression was unreadable, his jaw tight as he focused on the path ahead. His face was bruised, his clothes stained with blood and sweat, but there was something in his eyes—something softer than I had seen before.
The world felt eerily quiet after the chaos of the night. The gunfire, the shouting, the tension—it all seemed to dissipate in an instant. As I stood in the center of the warehouse, staring down at Vasquez’s lifeless body, the reality of what had just happened began to sink in. It was over. The man who had haunted our every step, the one who had caused so much destruction and pain, was finally gone. But instead of feeling relief, all I felt was a hollow emptiness. Was this what winning felt like? The sound of footsteps drew me out of my thoughts. Carter was by my side in an instant, his face hard, but there was something else there—something I couldn’t quite place. I could see the exhaustion in his eyes, the way his shoulders sagged slightly, as if the weight of the world had just been lifted, but it had left him drained. “Are you okay?” I asked, my voice softer than I intended. He glanced at me, a small smile tugging at his lips, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I should b
The room seemed to close in around us, the air thick with tension. Vasquez stood in the center, his cold eyes locked on us, a smug grin spreading across his face. He had been expecting us. He always knew how to stay one step ahead, but now it was his turn to face the consequences. Around him, his men stood in a loose formation, guns at the ready, watching us like predators circling their prey. But even they seemed wary of the situation. They knew what Vasquez was capable of, but there was something different in the air tonight. The endgame had begun, and no one was safe. Carter didn’t hesitate. Without a word, he moved into position, his gun steady in his hand, aimed directly at Vasquez. I stayed close behind him, my own pistol raised, my fingers cold with fear and anticipation. I had never been so close to the end of this nightmare, but now that it was here, the fear was overwhelming. The uncertainty about what would happen next gnawed at me, but one thing was certain: this would b
The drive to the warehouse was silent, the weight of the night’s events pressing down on us. The city passed by in a blur of lights and shadows, but all I could focus on was the building we were heading toward. The place where it would all come to an end. Or where we would meet our doom. Carter’s hand gripped the steering wheel tightly, his jaw set in a hard line. The tension in his body was palpable, and I could see the slight tremor in his fingers. He wasn’t showing it, but the strain was there, buried beneath the surface. I wanted to tell him that we were going to make it through this, that everything would be okay. But I couldn’t. Not when I wasn’t sure myself. The warehouse loomed ahead, a dark silhouette against the night sky. Its metal walls were scarred with rust and neglect, the windows dark and lifeless. It looked abandoned—an unassuming place to house a kingpin like Vasquez. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that was exactly what he wanted. A place to b
The streets of the city had never felt as dangerous as they did that morning. Every corner, every shadow seemed to hold a threat, and the tension in the air was thick, like the calm before a storm. As Carter and I made our way through the bustling city, we both knew that every step we took could be our last. We were on the edge now, walking a fine line between survival and destruction. We didn’t speak much as we moved. Words felt insufficient, like they might break the fragile peace we had fought so hard to build. Our bond was deeper than anything I had ever experienced, and the weight of that love seemed to tether me to him in ways I couldn’t explain. But even as our hearts beat in sync, our minds were consumed with the task at hand. We were hunting Vasquez’s contact. If we could find him, we might finally learn where Vasquez was hiding, where his next move was going to be. The contact, a man named Lyle, was someone Carter had worked with in the past. He was dangerous, unreliable,