Renz’s POV
Three bodies. Three bullets. One mistake. I wiped the sweat from my brow with a silk cloth. Death had never been an inconvenience - just business. A means to an end or a reminder. No one begged. They knew better. The basement stank of iron, sweat and regret, the kind that only fools left behind when they crossed me. I crouched beside the last body, watching the life fade the man's eyes. Blood pooled around their heads like halos painted in sin. "This is what you get for fucking with my money". I murmured, almost fondly, then tucked my pistol back inside my jacket and stepped away from the mess, left them behind without a second glance. My men would clean up. They knew the drill - bleach, fire and silence. I didn’t need witnesses. I needed loyalty. And fear was the currency I paid in. Basque welcomed me like always — roaring, sweating, seducing. Every soul in here came to forget. To feel something. Pain, pleasure, power. I sold all three in bottles and beats. I lit a cigar and stepped into the chaos. But then — the world blinked. What a sight. She must be new. Or stupid. But damn... she was interesting. She was drawing attention. Too much of it. Eyes followed her. Some hungry. Some confused. But I watched. She didn’t dance like she wanted attention — she danced like she was starving for it. Like it was the only thing keeping her alive. dressed in black velvet and fire, slit up to her thigh. Eyes closed, head tossed back, like she’d died and come back possessed. She was young but wild, barely a woman. My kind of fucked up. She wasn’t like the others who threw themselves at me. She didn’t even know I was watching. And yet, every move screamed for someone - anyone -to finally see her. I saw her. Not the body, Not the beauty, But the crack in her soul. She seemed like the kind of girl who'd scream into pillows at night, not for pleasure, but to forget. Anyway, She looked… appetizing, . a puzzle with one jagged piece missing — and maybe, just maybe, I could be that final piece.Or better - maybe I could break her completely, then show her what it feels like to shatter the right way. I could give her something no one else ever would. A reason to never forget me. In Pleasure, pain, The kind of memory that gets carved into your skin and soul. I chuckled. Still yet, she looked unfamiliar, didn’t belong in my world, she walked straight into it. And now she was mine. I called Marco. My brother. My right hand. The only man I trusted with secrets and bodies. “That one,” I said, voice low and certain. “Take her to Room Three. I want her clean, quiet, and waiting.” He didn’t ask why. He knew better. But when he moved, I watched expecting her to follow. They always did. But then I saw her pause. Marco leaned down, whispered in her ear. Her face changed and noticed She hesitated, shook her head and walked away, lips tight. Said something to my brother. Then turned… toward the ladies' room. I didn't need to chase her, I owned the air in this building. she should have known better,or maybe...she knew exactly what she was doing. Either way- she had my attention now. She thought I’d let her walk? No, darling. You’ve been chosen. And when I choose… you don’t get to walk away. You crawl, beg, or you scream. But you never walk. Not from me. As I walked towards the room, I smirked. She had no idea what was waiting on the other side. But soon…She will. She’ll know what it means to be seen. To be touched like worship.To be broken, rebuilt, and owned. She looked broken already — I’m just here to finish the job. And maybe…Give her the pleasure of a lifetime for her pain. A gift or maybe a curse. Something she’ll never recover from.because I’m not her savior, nor am I a monster. I'll be her lesson. ****** Morning came, and I still hadn’t slept. Not from the kill. That was routine. It was her. I told myself it was just another night. Just another girl. But I knew that was a damn lie. Phone rings. Ma.I sigh, and swipe to answer. “Yeah?” “It’s been months, son. You never visit. Your father—” "I’m swamped, Ma. Deals. Clients. I can’t just drop everything.” “You always say that. We miss you—” “I’ll come when I can." and before she could say further I hung up.I don’t need this right now. My phone buzzed again — saved me from diving deeper into whatever the hell this feeling was. “Boss, the new site’s ready. Grand opening in three weeks. Everything’s in place.” About time. I may be staying for a while, the business must be established. I gave Marco the reins. “No fuck-ups..Keep the streets clean. My name doesn’t get dragged. but If someone breathes funny, cut their air." He nodded. He always understood.But as I boarded the private jet, i caught myself glancing toward the clouds. That bitch. That broken beauty. Still in my blood. I didn’t even know her name. But I knew one thing — She'd remember me. And I wasn’t done with her.Ricardo’s POVThe bass in oscuro throbbed wildly through the VIP court, rattling the ice in my glass. The air was a heady mix of expensive perfume, spilled champagne, and the low moans of two women tangled against me. One straddled my lap, her nails grazing my jawline, while the other knelt between us, lips tracing the inside of my thigh. I liked them like this—hungry, eager to please, ready to forget their names in exchange for the glint of my money.A fresh stack of chips sat untouched on the glass table, my winnings from the night. My luck had been relentless lately—proof, I told myself, that the universe was finally returning what Luis Renz had stolen from me.My cut.My shares.That bastard had been skimming me for years, hiding it under clever accounting, smooth smiles, and “business strategy.” Always the respectable kingpin, the gentleman criminal. Meanwhile, I was left to scrape from the scraps he decided to toss my way. I had waited, bided my time, taken what I could in the s
Renz's Pov Nyx’s answer came in a whisper, almost lost in the hum of my penthouse air system. “Yes… I’ll be your mistress.” It wasn’t the kind of yes you say when your heart wants something. It was the kind you give when your back’s against the wall and your pride is bleeding. I saw it in her eyes — that flash of hesitation before her lips moved. Nyx didn’t belong in my world, but she keeps stepped right into it.I told her to finish what the other women had started earlier.They’d been kneeling before me when she walked in — and unlike them, she didn’t hide her disgust. Still, she came closer. I could almost taste her defiance in the air. I almost smirked—pride or fear, I couldn’t tell which stopped her.Instead I stepped in closer, letting the tension strangle the room But she couldn’t bring herself to do it. I knew she wouldn’t. That wasn’t disappointment I felt — it was intrigue. She needed money. Desperately. I could see it in the way her hands trembled but her chin st
I didn’t sleep that night.I tossed. Turned. Stared at the cracked ceiling until the plaster patterns began to look like scars. In my chest, a weight pressed harder than anything I’d ever carried. Not the hunger. Not the shame. Not even the labor pains that brought my daughter into this world.Why now?Why did he show up, only to disappear again?Was he cruel or kind? A curse or a delayed punishment?I hated how his presence had cracked something open inside me again—something I’d long buried in the rubble of survival.Days passed and I didn’t call. I forced myself to function. For my baby and For what little I still had left of my sanity. As I walked home one night. I got a phone call.The words came fast. The world spun even faster. Hit and run. Convenience store. Emergency room.My daughter.I dashed to the hospital, there, the stench of antiseptic nearly brought me to my knees. But it was the image of her—bandaged, pale, unmoving-that gutted me.The doctor didn’t sugarcoat it. “S
The ward was quiet, everything seemed still as I watched my baby. I named her Rynna because even in my ruins, she felt like a blooming flower. I was alone. No congratulatory flowers. No family members pacing in the hallway. Just me… and her. Until I heard the creak of the door. I turned, expecting a nurse— But it was Camila. My breath caught instantly. For a second, I didn’t move. Couldn’t move. She stood there in a simple hoodie and jeans, Her face hadn’t changed, still the same as mine-but older somehow. More tired. "I didn’t know I’d be late,” she whispered, stepping forward. “I thought the delivery would be in a few days... but look here—” her voice broke into a soft laugh as she leaned toward Rynna. “What a cute little thing you are.” She looked up at me then. No judgment. Just… sorrow. And love. And wrapped her arms around me so tightly I finally let go of everything I’d been holding in. “No one to make my life glorious,” she teased through her tears, echoing our old insid
Nyx's povI stared into the mirror, hands trembling slightly as I adjusted the strap on my dress. My lipstick was fading. My eyes looked hollow. What the hell was I doing here? This place wasn’t just loud. It was alive — but not in a good way. It pulsed with sin. Like every corner of it had witnessed something wicked and clapped for it.I splashed water on my face, took a breath, and walked out.That’s when I saw them. Two men. Ripped. Cold. Standing like statues outside the ladies’ room door. One stepped forward. “The Boss wants you.”Excuse you!...Just that!. No name, No smile. Just a sentence that twisted my stomach into a knot. I should’ve run.But I didn’t. Maybe because deep down… I knew this place was cursed from the moment I stepped in. I just didn’t know it was possessive. I followed them. Quietly. My heels echoing against the floor like countdowns. The hallway was long. Too quiet.When they opened the door to the private room, I walked in—and he was there. He didn’t speak muc
Renz’s POVThree bodies. Three bullets.One mistake.I wiped the sweat from my brow with a silk cloth. Death had never been an inconvenience - just business. A means to an end or a reminder.No one begged. They knew better. The basement stank of iron, sweat and regret, the kind that only fools left behind when they crossed me. I crouched beside the last body, watching the life fade the man's eyes. Blood pooled around their heads like halos painted in sin. "This is what you get for fucking with my money". I murmured, almost fondly, then tucked my pistol back inside my jacket and stepped away from the mess, left them behind without a second glance. My men would clean up. They knew the drill - bleach, fire and silence. I didn’t need witnesses. I needed loyalty. And fear was the currency I paid in. Basque welcomed me like always — roaring, sweating, seducing. Every soul in here came to forget. To feel something. Pain, pleasure, power. I sold all three in bottles and beats. I lit a ci