All Chapters of The Devil's Nurse: Chapter 111 - Chapter 120

Reina’s POVFor a moment, I was paralyzed. The screen in front of me flickered as my pulse quickened, making the world spin faster. What the hell was this?The image was clear and unmistakable. It was me—my body, limp and vulnerable, draped over someone’s shoulder. Leon. One of Mr. Morelli’s men and my damn bodyguard.The air left my lungs in one sharp exhale, the cold chill of realization sinking deep into my bones. My hands shook violently as I gripped the phone, my mind struggling to keep up with the onslaught of questions that flooded my thoughts.Did he…?A sickening wave of nausea hit me, followed by a surge of heat—anger, sharp and raw, bubbling up from my stomach, rising like fire through my chest. Did he touch me? I had no memory of it, but that picture didn’t lie.Roman's voice cut through the haze, low and steady, as if sensing the shift inside me. “Reina? What happened?” His eyes searched mine, his brows furrowed in concern. "Who was that? What’s going on?”I blinked, try

Reina’s POV“What?”“You think I let him live this long because he’s untouchable? Just a snap of my fingers, Reina, and your dear hero will be missing his heart.” He picked up his phone from the nightstand. “You can’t possibly do something…”My words died in my throat as he dialed a number. “Ezra. Kill the fucking officer…”“No!” The sound was torn from my lungs. “No, no, no, please!” I scrambled forward, dropping to my knees beside the bed, the cold floor a shock against my skin. The look on his face was beyond dark; it was a void. “Please, don’t hurt him. He’s not a part of this, please,” I cried, tears I hadn’t realized were there now streaming down my face.I didn’t want another person ending up like Joshua. My heart can’t take it.The phone was still pressed to his ear, his eyes locked on me. “Oh,” he growled, a predatory light in their depths. “You would kneel for him?” His tone changed as he spoke into the phone again, never breaking eye contact. “Hold.” Then to me, “Come h

Cassian’s POV The bathroom door creaked open, and steam spilled out around her. Reina walked in wrapped in a towel, her long legs exposed, her wet hair dripping over her shoulders. Her eyes landed on the bed, on the dress, and then flicked to me. She froze. A beat of silence. “What’s that?” she asked softly, eyeing the dress like it might bite her. “You’ll wear it tonight,” I said, calm and unmoved, still scrolling through the last of her texts before locking the screen and tossing the phone back onto the nightstand with a soft thud. Her eyes followed it. Slowly. Like she didn’t quite believe what she’d seen. “Wait… was that my phone?” she asked, a little louder this time, tension creeping into her voice. I didn’t answer. She stepped forward, her towel slipping just slightly from the curve of her hip. “Mr Morelli. What were you doing with my phone?” Now her tone was sharp—accusatory. Her brows furrowed, lips parting in disbelief. “What the hell gives you the right?”

Cassian’s POV Ethan wheeled me out of the ballroom, away from the flickering chandeliers and velvet chaos. I needed quiet. The kind of quiet where monsters gathered in suits and whispered over crystal glasses. Down the hall, past rooms lined with imported marble and overpriced art, we reached the one door that mattered—the Black Room. Ethan opened it. Inside, the air was thick with tension. Ten seats circled the table—one for each capo, not just the inner circle. For once, every faction had been summoned. No one was left out. He wheeled me to the head of the table. The room went silent, as it always did when I entered. No toasts. No welcomes. Just eyes—calculating, cautious, and some, already guilty. Eugene cleared his throat first. “We’ve got a problem on the eastern docks. Salvatore’s crew intercepted a shipment meant for Lorenzo.” I didn’t move. Just watched. Salvatore grunted. “That shipment sat for two days. I don’t wait. If Lorenzo’s people can’t hold a schedule,

Cassian’s POV Rip. I tore her dress open, exposing her to the cold air of the hidden room. Her breasts bounced free, and I groaned. “God, I could worship them all day,” I muttered, taking one into my mouth as my hand claimed the other. She arched despite herself, torn between duty and desire. Below, chaos unfolded like a fever dream. The haunting sound from the opera still wailed through unseen speakers—some tragic soprano on the edge of despair—drowning out the very real sounds of terror erupting beneath them. Screams bled into the music, distant but unmistakable: the panic of people running, the clash of boots, the crack of glass, and somewhere in between it all—the unmistakable thud of a body hitting marble. And still, I didn’t stop. Reina gasped, squirming beneath me, her breath caught somewhere between arousal and horror. My hips moved in slow, deliberate strokes, still buried inside her like I had all the time in the world. Her body betrayed her—shaking, slick, on e