7. Seven Gia

Seven: Gia

A throb between my legs jerked me awake, a dull ache pulsing from my core. I peeled my eyes open, my head pounding. The sheets—my silk sheets—were stained with evidence of last night's violation. My fingers grazed the sticky mess, and fury ignited in my veins. What the actual fuck happened last night? I went to bed alone…

"Fuck," I hissed, flinging the covers aside, disgust crawling over my skin. I snatched my phone from the nightstand, punching the security number with a vengeance. "The footage, now."

"Ms. Gerald," his voice came through, laced with apprehension, "there was a power outage. No recordings."

"Convenient." The word slithered out. Kai—this had his brand of chaos all over it. How fucking far had his reach gone? Did he own everyone?

Before I could summon John to unleash hell, another call cut through the silence. Peter. He never called unless the world was on fire. Or unless he failed. Which was likely given his recent inability to get a mouse of a girl.

"Peter," I growled as I answered, ready to rip into him for disturbing my warpath, but his words stopped me cold.

"I'm out, Gia. Another one of mine is dead—Calliope isn't worth it. Not anymore."

"Dead? By who? That psychopath?”

He sighed. I could imagine him rubbing his eyes with the weight of that noise. “I don’t know, man. I don’t care. I’m over this shit. It’s… over. Fen has a job for me, one that won’t require my boys dying and quite frankly, Gia, you’re losing control.”

"Listen to me, you don't get to quit!" But the line was already dead, Peter gone. I stared at the phone, the silence mocking me.

"Fuck this," I spat, tossing the device aside. It shattered against the wall, a satisfying crack filling the room. I’d get another one. It wasn’t as if I didn’t have whatever I wanted at my fingertips.

I dressed quickly, pulling on leather that hugged every curve. My eyes met my reflection in the mirror. I was gaunt with dark rings under my eyes. Not from the hangover, though, that was prominent too, no. These were from exhaustion. Exhaustion from constantly needing to prove myself. To defend my position. To be on the edge of my seat. Not anymore. Today would make or break my position. I grabbed another phone off my counter, switching the SIM from my shattered one on the floor.

"Meeting. Warehouse. Now." My text was brief, commanding—non-negotiable. They knew better than to keep me waiting. They would answer to me, the chaos would bend to my will. Or they’d die.

My heels clicked against the floor as I grabbed my keys off the counter and slammed the front door shut. My Audi waited for me, she never failed to bring a smile to my face, the engine roaring to life with a ferocity that matched the storm brewing inside me.

The drive was quick and I was pleased to see the line of vehicles outside. The warehouse reeked of oil and sweat, the air as heavy as the glares cutting through it. My crew flanked the walls, their eyes flickering from me to the man bound in the chair. He squirmed, the ropes biting into his flesh, fear oozing out of his pores. I looked around. Most of the men were here. Including John, who tipped his head at me and Kai, whose eyes could pierce holes in my skull but for the ghost of a smile that played on his lips. Somehow that look sent a pulse straight to my pussy.

"Talk," I demanded, my voice slicing through the tense silence. "Who's targeting my clients?"

The head of club security, a weasel of a man, just stammered, his gaze darting around the room like a cornered rat before his gaze landed on Kai. My patience snapped.

"Peter's Lost Boys are dropping dead. I’ve had three major clients gutted. One more is presumably dead. Hasn’t been seen in a week. You telling me you don't know shit?" My hand curled around the handle of my gun, the metal cold and comforting. “What the fuck do I pay you for?”

Silence. Cowards, the lot of them.

"Fine." The gunshot echoed, the bullet tearing through the security chief's skull. A dull thud as his body slumped forward, lifeless.

"Jesus, Gia!" One of the men lunged forward, but I was quicker. Another shot rang out, his brains painting the concrete.

"Anyone else feeling brave?" Laughter bubbled from my throat. The way their eyes stared blankly was hysterical. I turned, scanning the sea of faces until they landed on him.

"Going off the rails?" Kai's question cut through the chaos, his tone mocking. He stood, muscles flexing, a challenge in his stance. Something about the way his jaw ticked as he avoided looking at me stoked my anger.

"Off the rails?" I stepped closer while he moved around me, almost as if I was just an annoying gnat. "You've been fucking with my business, playing your sick little games. It’s you, isn’t it?"

He laughed, the sound grating on my nerves. "It's not me, Gia."

Lies. I could taste them in the air, see them in the dark whirlpools of his eyes. He thought this was a game, that he could undermine me and I’d just lay down and take it. His eyes settled on mine, his gaze raked my body, settling between my thighs, a faint red flushing over his face before they snapped away. That little fucker. It was him last night. The thought enraged me… and turned me on. I wanted to sit on his cock and then cut it off. Motherfucker.

Kai's arms swept wide like a fucked up preacher. "Look at this shitshow, gentlemen" — his voice booming, confident — "Is this what you signed up for?"

The men shifted, unease evident. John rose like a relic of a bygone era, authority etched in every line on his face. "Sit down, Kai.”

Kai spun, viper-quick. "Shut the fuck up." His words were a punch, direct, brutal. "You set the stage for this circus, old man. Should've been me in charge."

I laughed then, a cold sound. "Listen to daddy, Kai. You don’t run Cinder Crew."

"Come off it, Gia." He spat, eyes burning before turning to the men who looked on, curiosity on their faces. "Are you really gonna back her?" He jerked his head at me, contempt in every line of his body. "Or will you stand with someone who can actually lead?"

Confusion painted their faces. I, too was curious, what they would decide. They turned to John, but he was already silenced by the barrel of Kai's gun pointing at his head.

"Make your choice!" Kai's shout filled the warehouse.

John's voice broke the silence. "You don't need to do this, son."

"Too fucking late, daddy dearest. You chose wrong when you put that cunt in my place. Why? Because you thought she would make better decisions? She trusted the wrong people and fucked us all."

“I trusted her more than I ever trusted you.”

And those words sealed his fate. A sneer twisted Kai’s face before a mask fell in its place, perfectly impassive as he smiled, leaning in and kissing his father on the forehead before pulling away.

The sound—gunshot, echoing, final—was deafening. John slumped forward, red blooming on his chest.

"John!"

A scream tore from my throat, raw and animalistic. I dropped to my knees, hands shaking, reaching for him.

"Chaos," someone muttered, before the sound of hurried footsteps could be heard as the warehouse doors opened. The Cinder Crew scattered like roaches, their loyalty a casualty of their survival instincts.

"That was fun, wasn’t it?" Kai, callous, his hand cold as it patted my head before he stepped around my body cradling his fathers.

"Fuck you," I spat, the words empty against the gravity of his betrayal.

"I’ll be seein’ you, sweetheart." His footsteps faded, leaving me alone with the dying embers of what was once an empire. What was once my empire.

Holding John, his blood warm on my skin, I whispered silent promises into the void. Vengeance, a dark seed planted deep within me.

All that was, that is, that ever would be… will be worth the fall of the Cinder Crew to exact my revenge on Kai Christian.

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