The Devil's Mistress

ROXANNE POV

They never saw it coming—twelve men, twelve bodies and I hadn't even laid a finger on them.

The house always felt like it was holding its breath, suffocating and still, like it was waiting for something to go wrong.

A car accident took my mother's life when I was twelve and in its aftermath, I ended up in the care of Garry, my stepfather.

Not just any stepfather. Garry was the relentless leader of the Goons Gang.

My memories of that time were fractured, like scattered puzzle pieces I couldn't quite put together.

I'd survived the crash, but not unscathed. I'd woken up from a coma with no memory of the accident, or much of my childhood.

Garry had filled in the gaps; telling me about a father I couldn't remember, a man who had been sentenced to life for murder.

I hadn't known enough to question it and even if I had, who could I turn to?

For the last five years, my life has been a nightmare I couldn't wake up from.

Garry flat-out refused to pay for any medical treatment or therapy that could help me recover my lost memories.

He'd dismissively say, "It's better if you remember on your own," as if the fragmented pieces of my childhood and the car accident could somehow fall into place naturally.

I was eighteen now, technically an adult, but that didn't mean anything in Garry's house. My days were spent cooking, cleaning and tending to the gang's wounded, thanks to the forced medical training I'd endured.

Garry had once blackmailed a local surgeon into homeschooling me. When I was good enough to stitch a wound, reset a broken bone, or stop a man from bleeding out, Garry had the surgeon killed.

It was another reminder that I was nothing but a tool to him—a pawn in his violent, bloody game.

In the living room, I sat on the couch with my knees pulled to my chest, staring blankly at the television.

The muffled sound of laughter came from the kitchen, where Garry's men—his "brothers"—were drinking and celebrating God-knows-what.

Kendrick's voice was the loudest.

It always was. He was Garry's right-hand man, younger than the others and just as dangerous, if not more.

I'd learned to avoid Ken when I could, but sometimes, avoidance wasn't enough. He had this way of looking at me that made my skin crawl.

The sound of heavy boots coming closer caught my attention.

"There you are." Kendrick slurred as he appeared in the doorway, leaning against the frame with a cocky smirk.

His sandy hair fell into his face and his gray eyes sparkled with that predatory gleam I knew too well.

I didn't respond, keeping my eyes fixed on the TV.

"Hiding out here by yourself again?" He asked, taking a few steps toward me. "Come on, Roxie. Join the fun."

"I'm fine here." I muttered, my voice low. I pulled my knees tighter to my chest, praying he'd lose interest.

But Ken wasn't the type to give up easily. He loved this-loved knowing he had the power to make me uncomfortable.

He sauntered closer, his grin widening. "You know Garry wouldn't like it if he knew you weren't being...social."

The unspoken threat in his words sent a chill down my spine.

"What do you want, Ken?" I asked, forcing my voice to stay steady.

He chuckled, the sound low and grating. "I just wanted to gaze into those light green eyes of yours."

"Is that so much to ask?" He reached out, his hand aiming for my face, but I flinched back instinctively.

"Don't." I whispered, barely audible.

His smirk faded, replaced by something darker. "You think you're better than us, don't you? Just because Garry needs you?"

I kept my gaze on the TV, my fists clenched.

Ken leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "One day, you're going to regret not being nicer to me. You'll see, my little pet."

I swallowed hard, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a reaction.

The door to the living room creaked open and Garry strode in. His sharp gaze flicked between us, the faint twitch of his mustache hinting at irritation.

"Ken," Garry's voice cut through the room, laced with authority. "Did you tell her about the wedding I proposed for this weekend, now that she's finally of age?"

My stomach churned. Wedding?

Ken's grin widened, smug and full of malice. "Not yet. I was just breaking the news to the guys about my plans for our wedding night though."

The blood drained from my face, leaving me frozen in place.

Garry sighed, rubbing his temple as if Ken's excitement was more bothersome than concerning.

"I've always known you were obsessed with her, Kendrick." He muttered.

Ken chuckled darkly, his tone dripping with arrogance. "Seriously, a prize like her? And untouched. You only get one chance at that."

His words sent a wave of revulsion through me, making me feel like a trapped animal.

I snapped my head toward them, my voice trembling with anger. "I'm not marrying him!"

The air in the room grew still. Both men turned to look at me, Garry's gaze sharp, while Ken's twisted into something colder.

"Oh, Roxie." Ken shook his head slowly. "You've got a lot to learn. Like keeping quiet when two men are talking." He leaned back, his condescension slicing through me like a blade.

Garry stepped closer, placing a heavy hand on my head as if I were a disobedient child.

"You'll do as you're told, Roxanne." He said with calm finality, his tone leaving no room for argument.

The fury bubbling inside me threatened to spill over, but I bit my tongue.

This wasn't the moment to fight.

After a silent minute, Garry turned away. "Joey's in the dining area." He commanded coldly. "Patch him up."

Grateful for the escape, I rose from the couch without a word and hurried to the dining room.

Joey sat slumped in a chair, pressing a bloodied towel to his side.

"Got into a little scuffle." He muttered, his voice strained.

I grabbed the first aid kit from the cabinet, focusing on the task at hand. My hands moved with precision, cleaning the wound and stitching him up like I'd done countless times before.

Joey shifted slightly, his jacket falling open to reveal a glint of silver tucked into the waistband of his pants-a razor blade, small but sharp.

I kept my expression neutral, masking the quick flash of realization. As I reached for the gauze on the table, I made my move.

With practiced ease, I slipped the razor from his waistband and tucked it into the back pocket of my jeans.

Joey, too preoccupied with the pain, didn't notice. I tied off the final stitch and straightened.

"You're good to go." I said briskly.

Joey grunted in acknowledgment, standing with a wince before shuffling off.

I exhaled quietly, my fingers brushing against the razor in my pocket.

It wasn't much, but it was enough.

After cleaning up in the kitchen, I started dinner. Cooking was routine by now, something I could do without much thought.

I worked in silence, preparing the meal and placing the dishes on a tray instead of setting the dining table. The gang rarely ate there.

Instead, I carried everything to the living room, leaving it on the coffee table like I always did.

Hours later, I lingered in the hallway, peeking around the corner. As expected, they were spread out on the couches, shouting at the game on the TV.

The plates of food on the coffee table were mostly empty, alongside half-drunk bottles of whiskey.

I watched them laugh, oblivious to everything except the screen and their own crude jokes.

It was almost too easy.

But where was Kendrick?

My stomach tightened as I scanned the room again. He wasn't there.

I slipped back into the hallway, keeping my steps light as I hurried toward the staircase.

My heart pounded with every creak of the wood beneath my feet, but the noise from the living room drowned out the sound.

Upstairs, I darted into my room and shut the door quietly behind me.

My stash was hidden beneath the loose floorboard under my bed—a bag of cash I'd scraped together bit by bit, skimming from Garry's stolen goods when no one was looking.

I pried the floorboard up and yanked the bag out, throwing it over my shoulder.

My escape was so close I could taste it.

But when I turned around, Garry was standing in the doorway.

My breath caught in my throat. His sharp eyes narrowed as they flicked to the bag over my shoulder.

"What are you doing, Roxanne?" He asked, his voice low.

I didn't answer. My mind raced, trying to find a way out, but he stepped into the room, blocking the door.

"I said, what are you doing?" His voice rose as he took another step closer.

I swallowed hard, forcing myself to stay calm. "I'm leaving."

"Leaving, really?" Garry laughed, harshly.

His face twisted into a sneer. "After everything I've done for you?"

"After everything I've given you?" He narrowed his brow as I met his gaze.

"You're just going to run off like the ungrateful little bitch you are?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Given me?" My voice cracked as anger surged to the surface. "You've given me nothing but misery! You took my life and turned it into a prison!"

"Watch your mouth, girl." His hand curled into a fist at his side. "You'd be dead if it weren't for me. You think the world out there is going to be kind to someone like you?"

"Someone like me?" I shot back, reaching slowly for the razor tucked in my back pocket which I had slipped off Joey. "You mean someone you've used as a tool for your filthy crime?!"

Garry stepped closer, towering over me and his hand shot out, striking me hard across the face.

The slap sent me staggering back, my cheek burning, but I didn't cry. I didn't give him the satisfaction.

"You're nothing without me." He hissed. "Nothing but a stupid, worthless—"

A shout from downstairs cut him off.

"They're dead!" Kendrick's voice echoed up the stairs, frantic and loud. "Every single one of them!"

Garry froze, his head snapping toward the door, confusion flickering across his face. His brow furrowed as Kendrick's voice rang out again.

"She killed them all!"

His gaze whipped back to me, his eyes narrowing in suspicion.

That was my moment.

I didn't need to hear more to know what had happened.

The food they devoured so greedily had been laced with warfarin, an anticoagulant I'd discreetly taken from the gang's stash of stolen medical supplies weeks ago.

They never questioned the random shipments of drugs they stole during their heists and I'd quietly pocketed what I needed.

As for the drinks, a bottle of beta-blockers I'd pilfered from the first-aid kit during a gang member's emergency months back had done the job.

I'd ground the pills into powder and slipped it into their whiskey. The perfect combination; one slowed their heart rates, the other thinned their blood until even the smallest internal bleed became fatal.

I lunged at Garry, the razor glinting in the dim light as I slashed it across his face.

Garry roared in pain, stumbling back as blood poured from the deep gash running from his temple to his jaw.

I didn't stop. I kicked him hard between the legs and he crumpled to the floor with a guttural groan.

"You little..." He spat, but I didn't wait to see what would happen next.

I bolted out of the room, my bag slamming against my back as I ran down the hallway.

Kendrick's shouts followed me, his voice growing louder. "She's gone! Garry!"

I ducked into the guest room at the end of the hall, throwing open the window. The cold night air hit me like a slap, but I didn't hesitate.

I climbed onto the windowsill and leapt, landing hard on the grass below. Pain shot through my ankle, but I pushed it aside.

I ran.

The streetlights blurred past me as I sprinted into the darkness, my chest heaving and my lungs burning.

Kendrick had lived, but the gang was dead and Garry was bleeding.

For years, they forced me to use my medical training to save their lives.

Tonight, it had been their undoing.