The Devil You Made Me

Kyren

I lowered the gun as I stared down at Jonas's lifeless body. Blood pooled around his head, seeping into the cracked concrete of the warehouse floor. His eyes that were wide with terror just moments before, now stared at nothing.

"It's done," I said, trying hard to curb the giddiness in my tone. The weight of the gun felt familiar in my hand, an extension of myself that had become as natural as breathing.

Marco and Leo stood a few feet away, their faces impassive masks of professionalism. They'd seen me kill before. This was just another Tuesday for the “De Santos” family.

"Clean it up," I ordered, tucking the gun back into my jacket.

Marco nodded, his hand reaching for his phone to call the cleanup crew. Leo's dark eyes met mine briefly before he looked away.

***

The mansion loomed before us as we pulled through the iron gates, and just like that, my heart started beating faster because I knew my father would be waiting in his study, expecting his report.

I started walking to his office, dreading the amount of criticism I would get.

I had no idea I had stopped walking when Leo nudged me, “Are you going or not?”

I sighed to myself, let's get this over with. I pushed the door open…

I found my father behind his mahogany desk with a glass of whiskey in his hand. Even at sixty-two, he commanded respect with his presence alone. His steel-gray hair was perfectly styled, his suit impeccable despite the late hour. The man who was currently frowning at me in disapproval.

"Jonas?" he asked without looking up from the documents spread before him.

"He is dead."

“Good,” he said before eyes lifted to meet mine. "And the proof he had on us?"

I paled completely, the question rendering me speechless.

Fuck!

In the heat of the moment, watching Jonas beg for his life was so pleasurable to me that I'd forgotten about the photographs, the recordings, the evidence that could destroy everything we'd built. My blood turned to ice when I realized I had fucked up.

"I... I forgot about it," I admitted, the words tasting like ash in my mouth.

The slap came so fast I barely saw it coming. His hand connected with my cheek with enough force to snap my head to the side.

My face burned, but I didn't flinch. I'd learned long ago that showing weakness only invited more pain. Well, according to my father's one too many rules.

"You fool," his voice was deadly quiet, more terrifying than any shout. "You impulsive, reckless fool. Do you have any idea what you've done?"

I straightened, meeting his gaze despite the fire in my cheek. "I'm a fool," I agreed, because denial would only make it worse. "I acted without thinking."

"Without thinking." He stood, his massive frame casting a shadow across the room. "Jonas had photographs of our operations, recordings of our conversations. Evidence that could put us all in prison for life. And you forgot about it."

I'd been so focused on silencing Jonas permanently that I'd overlooked the very reason he'd become a threat in the first place.

"If anyone finds that proof," father continued, his voice growing harder with each word, "if the police get their hands on it, if our enemies discover it, our family will regret the day you were born."

"I'm sorry, father. I'll fix this, I promise—"

"Fix it?" His laugh was bitter and cold. "And how exactly do you plan to do that? What's your brilliant strategy, son?"

I opened my mouth to respond, but no words came. I had no plan. No strategy. I'd acted on instinct and fury, and now we were all paying the price for my impulsiveness.

The silence stretched between us. Finally, he returned to his chair, suddenly looking like every one of his sixty-two years.

"There's only one way to protect this family now," he said, his voice resigned. "You need to marry Anna Serrano. Tonight's mistakes have accelerated our timeline."

Anna. The daughter of Miguel Serrano, one of the most powerful politicians in Italy. I'd known this day would come eventually, marriages in our world were about power, not love.

"The Serrano family's influence could shield us from the worst of what's coming," Father continued. "Their political connections, their legitimate business empire, their reputation. If you're married to Anna, you become untouchable. We all do."

I nodded, understanding the logic even as something cold settled in my chest. "I'll propose tomorrow."

"Tonight," he corrected. "Every moment we wait is another chance for someone to find what Jonas was hiding. Call her. Take her somewhere nice and romance her. I need you to be convincing."

Three hours later, I stood in the velvet-lined display case of Milano's finest jewelry store, studying rows of diamond engagement rings. The shop owner, a nervous man named Benedetto, hovered nearby, his hands trembling slightly as he pointed out the most expensive options.

"This one, Mr. De Santos," he said, indicating a three-carat princess cut surrounded by smaller diamonds. "It's magnificent, truly. Perfect for such a special occasion."

I nodded absently, my mind elsewhere. The ring was beautiful, expensive, everything Anna deserved. But as I watched Benedetto's shaking hands, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was going to regret this.

"I'll take it," I said, producing my black card.

Anna met me at Ristorante Bellacorte, the most exclusive restaurant in the city. She looked stunning in a deep blue dress that brought out her eyes, her dark hair swept into an elegant updo. When she smiled, her whole face lit up, and I felt a stab of guilt for what I was about to do.

"Kyren," she said, rising to kiss my cheek. "This is a surprise. What's the occasion?"

"Can't I take my beautiful girlfriend to dinner without an occasion?" I asked, helping her into her seat.

She laughed, "You can, but you usually don't. You've been so busy with your father's business lately."

If only she knew what my father's business really entailed. Anna lived in a world of charity galas and political fundraisers, blissfully unaware of the violence that funded her privileged lifestyle.

We made small talk through the appetizers and main course, but I could barely taste the food. The ring box felt like it weighed a thousand pounds in my jacket pocket. Finally, as dessert arrived, I knew I couldn't delay any longer.

"Anna," I said, reaching across the table to take her hand. "There's something I need to ask you."

Her eyes widened as I dropped to one knee beside the table, pulling out the ring box. The restaurant fell silent, other diners turning to watch our private moment become public theater.

"Anna Maria Serrano," I said,

, "you are the most beautiful, intelligent, compassionate woman I've ever known. Will you marry me?"

The ring caught the candlelight, sending sparkles across her tear-filled eyes. "Yes," she whispered, then louder, "Yes, of course!"

The restaurant erupted in applause as I slipped the ring onto her finger. Anna threw her arms around my neck, kissing me with genuine joy and love. I held her close, breathing in her perfume, trying to memorize this moment before everything changed forever.

After dinner, Anna left to meet her friends, no doubt to show off her new ring and plan an elaborate wedding. I watched her go, feeling like I was watching my last chance at innocence disappear into the night.

Leo found me standing outside the restaurant, staring up at the stars barely visible through the city's glow.

"Congratulations, boss," he said, but his tone suggested he knew exactly how hollow this victory felt.

"Thanks," I muttered, not trusting myself to say more.

"Marco's handling the cleanup from tonight," he continued. "Want to go home?"

I should have gone home. Should have called my father to report that the engagement was secured. Should have started planning for the political protection that would come with marrying into the Serrano family.

Instead, I found myself saying, "Take me to Velvet. I need a drink."

His eyebrows rose slightly. "You sure? It's been a long night."

"I'm sure."

Velvet was the kind of underground club that catered to people like me, those who lived in the shadows and needed somewhere to disappear. The music was loud enough to drown out thoughts, the lighting dim enough to hide secrets. It was exactly what I needed.

We found a booth in the VIP section, and Leo ordered a bottle of our usual whiskey. As he poured, I noticed him watching me with that careful expression he wore when he was trying to read my mood.

"Everything alright?" he asked after we'd both taken a drink.

I started to give him the usual response, that everything was fine, that the engagement was a strategic victory, that I was exactly where I needed to be. But the words died in my throat as my eyes found the bar, rather, the person behind the bar.