All Chapters of A Sinful Devotion: Chapter 31 - Chapter 39

Nicholas does not tell Rafe when the war begins.He kisses his temple that morning, presses a coffee into his hands, and watches him disappear into the café like the world has never tried to kill him twice.Only then does Nicholas put his phone to his ear and say, “Bring everyone.”The man’s name is Sergio Valen.Mid-tier syndicate accountant. Former Rhodes ally. Recognized Rafe at the café and reported it within an hour.Nicholas knows because nothing breathes inside his city without his permission.Sergio dies in a parking garage beneath a luxury apartment complex.No gunshots.Nicholas prefers silence now.The man begs.Nicholas listens.Then says calmly, “You spoke a name you were supposed to forget.”And leaves.The body is found three days later — officially a heart attack.Nicholas doesn’t correct the report.Rafe feels it first.He’s wiping down the counter when his chest tightens for no reason at all. His hand stills mid-motion. The mug slips — shatters against the floor.The

Rafe wakes screaming.Not loud.Not dramatic.Just one sharp sound ripped from his throat like his body can’t contain it.Nicholas is on his feet before the echo fades.“Rafe.”Hands. Steady. Familiar. He grips Rafe’s shoulders, grounding him, keeping him from folding into himself.Rafe’s eyes are wild.Focused on something that isn’t here.“He said your name,” Rafe gasps. “He kept saying your name like it was a joke.”Nicholas goes still.My blood turns to ice.“Who did?” I ask.Rafe swallows. Hard.“A man,” he says. “Dark hair. Scar on his mouth. He smiled when I bled.”The room tilts.Damien Cross.Rafe doesn’t know the name yet—but his body remembers the face.NICHOLASThis is how it starts.Not with facts.With pain.I force my voice to remain calm. “You remember him clearly?”Rafe nods. “Too clearly.”He presses his fingers into his temples like he’s trying to keep his skull from splitting open.“He tied me to a chair. Not because he had to. Because he liked watching me struggle

Rafe The dream doesn’t come gently. It never does. It rips. I’m back in that warehouse—concrete sweating, lights flickering like they’re afraid to stay on. My wrists burn from the rope. Blood trickles down my temple, warm and slow, like time itself mocking me. Damien crouches in front of me. Smiling. “You always were loyal to the wrong man,” he says. I spit blood at his shoes. “I chose him.” That’s when he laughs. And everything fractures. THE NIGHT I DIED I remember now. All of it. Not pieces. Not echoes. Everything. They didn’t just capture me. They hunted me. Because Nicholas Rhodes was untouchable—surrounded by walls, guards, money, myth. So they came for the one thing he loved enough to bleed for. Me. Damien leaned close that night, voice soft, intimate. “Kill Nicholas. Walk away clean. Or we take our time with you. And then we kill him anyway.” I didn’t hesitate. I laughed. “You don’t understand,” I told him. “If you touch him, the world ends.” He though

Rafe The café feels almost normal again. That’s the most dangerous thing about it. The sun pours through the front windows, warm and forgiving, dust motes floating like nothing bad has ever happened in this city. The bell over the door chimes lazily when customers come and go. Cups clink. Someone laughs. I’m behind the counter, sleeves rolled up, fingers steady as I wipe down a table. For the first time in weeks, my chest isn’t tight. For the first time since my memory came back, I’m not waiting for blood. Nick sits in the corner booth with his jacket draped over the seat beside him, sleeves pushed back, dark hair falling into his eyes as he pretends—badly—to read the same page of the newspaper for the tenth time. He’s watching the door. He’s always watching the door. I bring him his coffee without asking. Black. No sugar. He looks up when I set it down, and for a second, that sharp, dangerous man I once followed into hell softens into something almost gentle. “You’re smil