All Chapters of Trigger Code: Obey The Devil: Chapter 51 - Chapter 60

(Noah's POV) I woke up to silence. For a second, I didn’t know where the hell I was. My eyes adjusted, and the first thing I saw was the clock glowing on the nightstand: 3:00 AM. I tried sitting up. Big mistake. Pain shot through me— hips, thighs, lower back, and most especially my ass— like my whole body had been chewed up and spit out. I froze, teeth sinking into my bottom lip, and that’s when it all came rushing back… The cuffs. The blindfold. The way my body had been bent, stretched, forced to yield. The way Lucien’s voice wrapped around me, every command heavy enough to crush and thrill me at the same time. The sound of him moving, the grunt that slipped past his lips when he pushed deeper— God. That first thrust. It hurt like hell, and it felt so good I thought I’d lose my mind… the sharp, tearing pain that had twisted into pleasure so quickly I could barely tell them apart. I dragged my gaze back to the nightstand and that's when I noticed a diffuser. Sleek, glowing, sending

(Noah's POV) Midnight was breathing down my neck like a bad ex. The clock on the wall glared 11:56 and every minute felt like a fist tightening in my chest. Lucien should have been back hours ago. I’d tried every rational explanation; stuck in traffic, a last-minute deal, drunk and sleeping at some suit’s penthouse… but rational had left the building the second Red had shown up and started talking about private chambers and new toys. I stared at the ceiling until my head hurt, then I got up only to be reminded that my body still fucking aches. Still, I wasn’t built for waiting. Especially not when waiting felt like being left on a timer. I'm not that patient. The closest door made that soft, theatrical thunk when I opened it. I pulled out a shiny, tight, black top and equally tight pants, and a shoe that probably doesn't fit the outfit but it's clearly expensive. I then threw on a black jacket. If I was going to that club alone, I’d better look like I belonged there. I dressed fast

The first glimmer of false dawn was barely bleeding through the thick, soundproofed windows when Lucien’s eyes snapped open at 4 AM. His head throbbed, a brutal, insistent hammer against his skull, a cruel reminder of the night’s excesses. He grunted, a rough sound that vibrated in his chest, and pushed himself up from the cold, paint-splattered floor. His pants were bunched around his hips, and he hooked a thumb under the waistband, pulling them up before zipping them with a practiced, jerky motion. Beside him, Noah was a vibrant canvas of reds, blues, and yellows, curled into a peaceful sleep, oblivious to the dull ache in Lucien’s temples. He looked… small. Lucien scooped the lighter body into his arms, a startling contrast of his own muscles against Noah’s slender frame, and carried him across the room. With a soft thump, he dropped Noah onto the expansive king-size bed, the silky sheets doing little to absorb the riot of color now staining them. Lucien ignored the growing mess.

Lucien’s hand rested firmly on Noah’s waist as they stepped out of the dim VIP suite. The boy’s legs still felt heavy, and Lucien’s support was the only thing keeping him balanced as they descended the staircase leading to the main floor. It was noon now, and the club had shifted from its wild night persona to something almost civil; muted conversations, the steady shuffle of cards from the casino corner, soft laughter echoing between marble pillars. The air smelled faintly of cologne, whiskey, and something that could only be described as Lucien’s world. “Hey, brother,” Daniel’s voice carried across the room. He stood behind the bartending desk, sleeves rolled up, a glass half-polished in his hand. Someone stood facing him; a man, broad-shouldered and well-dressed, the kind of presence that filled a room without saying much. As Lucien approached, the man turned, and a brief flicker of recognition crossed Lucien’s face. “Uncle,” he said simply. The middle-aged man smiled thinly, s

The house was too quiet when Lucien stepped in. Lucien shut the door behind him, sliding the bolt in place. The lights were low, but the faint blue flicker of the TV pulsed from the living room. A blanket half-draped on the couch. But no Noah. He frowned. Was Noah watching TV? He should be asleep. Then he caught a scent that didn’t belong here; a sharp, synthetic… someone else’s cologne. His hand slipped behind his jacket, and cold metal met his palm. He moved down the hall in silence, footsteps syncing with the rhythm of his own breathing. When he reached Noah’s room, the door was slightly ajar. Just enough for the hallway light to spill in. A shadow moved inside. Someone was standing over the bed. A phone in hand, its faint glow hovering above Noah’s sleeping face. Lucien’s grip tightened. He stepped in, silent and precise. Then pressed the barrel of the gun to the intruder’s skull. The phone slipped. “Don’t— don’t shoot!” the voice cracked. Lucien tilted his head. “Red?”