Nocturnals #ted And Diego Novels & Stories

Diego said, standing up from the sofa and approaching Trey, his eyes fixated on Trey's disheveled appearance. "You reek of alcohol; just how much did you drink?" he asked, his tone tinged with concern. Trey, feeling upset, snapped at Diego. "Don't answer my question with another; you know how I hate that," he said. Diego apologized and explained that he was waiting for Trey because he had never stayed out this late before. Trey revealed that he had been out with Kelvin and Nathan, and Diego nodded in understanding. But Trey abruptly said, “Now out.”

# 67 Diego drag his feet into the house…his face swollen due to the nonstop tears after Shania has been cremated. He stared at the urn, the smooth ceramic surface reflecting his own hollow face. Grief threatened to drown him, a suffocating wave pulling him under. But he wouldn't let it. Not yet. Grief was a luxury he couldn't afford. Not until he found Tiana. ‘Tiana.’ He growl under his breathe. If only he knew that name would be a curse, he would have never allowed her into this house. Diego stood still in the house, his eyes ran to Tiana’s room.

The whole time anger boiled through him at her having the guts to sneak away from his bed like he was a common nightstand. As the car pulled to a stop, Diego climbed down and made his way to the apartment that belonged to Estella. He rang the doorbell and waited for her to pull the door open with a smile. And for the smile to die off before he spoke. “Get dressed, we’re leaving,” he said. “Mr. El Diablo, w-what are you doing here? How did you find me here?” Fear was written all over her face and he could see the visible tremble of her limbs.

I nodded once and didn't ask anything further, understanding that was as much as he intended to hand me tonight. I waited until the house had gone fully quiet before I took the photograph out again. The estate never truly slept, somewhere a guard's boots crossed gravel on rotation, somewhere a door clicked shut on schedule, but there was a particular hour, deep enough into the night, when even that quiet settled into something closer to stillness. *Somebody who was young enough back then to still be useful now* Theo's word came running through. There was only one person... Diego and Bianca.

​"Leo..." ​The surrounding noise of the night seemed to fade into absolute silence. The muffled, heavy thud of the club music behind the metal doors, the groans of the four men bleeding out on the wet pavement, the quiet drip of rain falling off the brick walls—it all died away. The entire world shrank down to just the two of them standing under the flickering yellow streetlight. ​They simply stared at each other for a full, agonizing minute. Neither of them moved. Neither of them dared to breathe.

Cameras and mics… They were the only things that saved me tonight. “We’ll talk about this in the morning,” Diego said and took me upstairs. Even though my heart was racing and chills were running down my spine from the whole scene I witnessed tonight, I still opened Liam’s door first. “Hey, you have blood all over you,” Diego said. “I need to make sure he is okay,” I whispered. We have cameras in their room. Diego showed me the whole footage of his room, and still my heart couldn't believe that Liam was sleeping soundly there.

I licked my lips, thinking of Ellie. The phone was still ringing. It was my business line again. I sat up, glancing at the clock. It was four in the morning. Fuck. Nothing good was coming from that call. I answered the phone, not speaking, and put it to my ear. “Tristan, señor?” a voice on the other end said. “Yes,” I responded, recognizing Diego’s voice at once. “Rico,” he spoke in Spanish, quieter this time. “He’s dead.” I blinked. “How?”

This one isn’t the night before—it’s the night of. Malik. Alive. Angry. Shouting at someone off-screen. Then Diego steps into frame, dagger flashing like a shard of night. The stabbing is quick, brutal. Malik’s howl echoes in my ears even though I know it’s only silence on tape. He goes down, thrashing in blood. Struggles. Then stillness creeps over him like a sheet being pulled. I don’t breathe until Ramos switches the file. The next clip shows Diego again, but different. He’s pacing, stumbling, his hands still red. His face is cracked open by grief or madness—I can’t tell which. He disappears off frame, then the camera at the warehouse picks him up two hours later.

That was the assignment. Diego leaned casually in the doorway, breaking my thoughts. “Oh, and yeah—there was also another pest I almost killed. I’ve got people working on how to delete him silently,” he said like it was just a minor inconvenience. “But he kept talking about his rights with a ring and drinking my Bourbon.” I blinked. “Jeremy was here?” “Was? These last two days have been a lot for me. I almost killed people, again,” Diego muttered. “Pretty sure he’s still somewhere in the house. Probably drinking my finest bourbon as we speak.”

I wasn't going to let these two shameless lowlifes get away with this. Furious, I scrolled through their chat history all the way up to last night. What I saw nearly drove me insane. It turned out that when I saw Kathleen comforting herself last night, she wasn't doing it while watching some racy video. She had been on a video call with Gordon, and they were pleasuring each other! Gordon even sent a message to Kathleen, telling her to fry up one of the sausages she had used for me to eat. When I read that, I felt so disgusted that I ran to the bathroom and threw up for an hour before I could regain my composure.