Chapter 27
BELLA
New Orleans, Louisiana
CADE: I’ll be there.
I read it once. Then again and again. And I smile.
What the hell am I doing?
This is Cade. Ellie’s older brother. Cal’s twin. The same guy who used to barely look at me when I was fifteen and practically living at their place. Who once told me glitter was a personality flaw and offered me a protein bar like that would somehow fix me.
The one who saw me puking behind their pool house after my first party, handed me a Gatorade, and didn’t tell a soul. Just sat next to me in silence while I swore I’d never drink again.
And let’s not forget the part that he’s also gay. With a boyfriend. And I’m supposed to be on a mission. Focused. Untouchable. Not melting over one text from a guy I’ve known forever.
Get it together, bitch.
“Somethin’ good, chérie?”
I look up fast, slipping the phone into my pocket. “Fine,” I lie. “Let’s just make sure your men are where they’re supposed to be.”
Sabine arches a perfectly penciled brow, lips curling like she already knows I’m full of shit.
“They’ll be there. Long as I get my piece like we agreed.”
I nod once, sharp. “Stick to your end and everything will go fine.”
We climb into the SUV, just the two of us. No Tex. No Nate. Not this time.
Sabine looks like something out of a dark fairy tale.
The kind where the witch doesn’t die, she wins.
Head-to-toe black layers of silk and something sheer that moves like smoke.
Silver rings on every finger, some sharp enough to draw blood.
Her hair’s twisted into this chaotic braided crown, feathers and beads threaded through like spells.
Eyes lined in gold and charcoal, lips painted the color of dried roses.
She doesn’t walk, she glides. And when she looks at you?
It’s like she already knows how you’ll die.
Sabine Marchand is the head of Le Serpent Noir and a fellow Black Book of mine.
The Serpents control elite auction houses and the chemical black market.
Basically, if you need a stolen Van Gogh fenced for a private bidder or raw supplies for a dirty bomb, she’s your girl.
And bonus points… she makes the best damn jambalaya in the entire world. The best.
The leather creaks under us as the doors shut and she starts the engine. The scent of something earthy clings to her, voodoo oils, if I had to guess.
“When I got your boy transferred outta there,” she says, eyes still on the road. “I did it clean. But my men… well. They got a little excited.”
“Yeah,” I mutter. “A trail of corpses usually doesn’t scream clean, Sabine.”
She hums, low and lazy. “Made it look like he ran. Slicked the scene with just enough blood to make the feds think the ol’ fool blew the doors and hit the road.”
Her eyes glint as she cuts me a wicked smile.
“They’re scouring highways and rest stops like damn fools. Meanwhile—” she leans in, voice syrup-sweet and smug, “—he’s chained up in my bayou. Right where I want him. Waitin’ on you chérie.”
“You better be right about this, Sabine.”
“Oh, sugar. I’m always right when it comes to revenge.”
I look out the window, watching the moss-laced trees close in as we leave the city lights behind. My fingers twitch toward the blade tucked under my jacket.
We roll to a stop, gravel crunching beneath the tires as the last sliver of road disappears behind us. Sabine kills the engine and turns to me, eyes gleaming.
“We walk from here, honey.”
“Of course we do.”
The air outside is thick. Cypress trees loom overhead, branches draped with Spanish moss that sway like ghosts. The mud squelches beneath our feet as we step off the path, following a narrow trail through the swampy dark. Frogs croak in the distance. Something splashes near the bank.
“That better not be a gator,” I whisper, narrowing my eyes at the water.
“If it is, let him watch. Gators carry souls, chérie… and this swamp’s got stories to tell.”
I shoot her a look. “Great. Just what I need. A soul-snatching reptile watching me.”
We reach a cabin, or what used to be one. The thing looks stitched together from driftwood and bones, weather-beaten and warped. A single yellow bulb buzzes over the door, casting everything in a jaundiced glow. Wind chimes made from bullet casings clink softly in the breeze.
One of Sabine’s men stands on the porch, casually leaning beside the door with a cigarette in his mouth and a shotgun in his hands. He straightens when he sees us.
“He’s all tied up for you, ma’am. Just like you asked.”
Sabine grins. “Thank ya, baby.” She tosses him the keys. “You can go wait outside. Us girls have it from here.”
He tips his head and saunters off, disappearing into the shadows without another word.
I climb the porch stairs behind her, my heart pounding harder than I want to admit. The wooden boards creak under our weight.
Sabine pushes open the door and there he is.
Carlos fucking Lucero.
Tied to a chair in the middle of the room, wrists and ankles bound tight, head slumped forward.
He stirs at the sound of us entering, slowly lifting his head. When his eyes meet mine, I smile, cold and hungry.
“Hi, Carlos,” I say. “Miss me?”
Carlos thrashes in the chair as the door creaks shut behind us. He tries to speak through the gag—muffled sounds, frantic and useless. His face is already slick with sweat.
Good. He’s scared.
“Do you know why you’re here, Carlos?” I ask, voice calm and cold.
He grunts again, panicked now, shaking his head like it might buy him mercy. It won’t.
Sabine smiles as she strolls toward Carlos, the hem of her long black dress whispering over the warped floorboards. Carlos’s eyes cut to her and then go wild when he sees what’s coiled around her wrist.
A snake. Thick. Yellow. Smooth as shadow and nearly silent as it slides down her forearm.
“Revenge, baby,” she purrs, eyes never leaving Carlos. “That’s why you’re here.”
Carlos jerks in the chair, trying to lurch away, but he’s bound tight. The chair creaks beneath him. His breathing goes ragged.
“Sabine! Where the fuck did that thing come from?”
Sabine chuckles. “Left it for me, he did. My man Jacques always knows what I need.” She strokes the snake’s head with one painted fingernail. “This little darling can sense the soul, you know. Knows if a man’s good. Or dirty. Knows if he’s got blood on his hands.”
The snake flicks its tongue in Carlos’s direction. Carlos lets out a muffled shriek, his whole body trembling now.
I glance at Sabine. “Your man left us a soul-sensing snake?”
I flash a wicked grin. “Perfect.”
I step forward, arms crossed.
“Okay, Carlos, this is Sabine. Sabine, this is Carlos.” I point lazily to the snake still curled around Sabine’s arm. “And this… is also here for you.”
Sabine lifts the snake gently, cradling it with eerie tenderness.
“Her name’s Celeste,” she says with a hint of reverence.
“Celeste,” I echo flatly. “Lovely. Apparently, she’s here to see if you have a soul.”
Sabine leans in, “To see if it’s a good soul… or a wicked one.”
“Spoiler alert, babe. It’s wicked.”
Sabine shrugs. “Never hurts to check.”
She steps closer and carefully lays the snake across Carlos’s lap. He loses it. He tries to scream but it’s muffled by the gag. His body thrashes in the chair. The ropes hold.
Celeste doesn’t flinch. She begins to slither with the patience of a predator. Moving up his trembling chest and around his neck. His eyes roll as he tries to suck in a breath. Every inch of him straining away from the cool, coiling body now brushing his jaw.
“Let’s see what my girl finds.”
Celeste reaches his neck and pauses, her smooth body coiled like a necklace of nightmares. Her head tilts back toward Sabine like she’s asking permission.
I glance over, confused as hell. “Uh…”
Sabine just nods once. Celeste sticks her fangs deep into the flesh of Carlos’s neck. He lets out a scream through the gag, jerking in the chair like he’s been electrocuted.
“Shit!” I jump back, eyes wide. “Please tell me that thing didn’t just take my revenge from me.”
Sabine steps closer, admiring her little pet. “No, chérie. There’s no venom in Celeste. But you were right.”
She leans down and lifts the snake off of him.
“His soul is pure evil.”
“Great,” I mutter, brushing invisible dust off my jeans. “Now that we got that out of the way.” I step forward and yank the gag down from Carlos’s mouth.
“You bitch,” he spits immediately, face red and furious. “Fucking psycho slut—”
“Wow,” I cut him off, my tone almost bored. “That is no way to talk to someone who literally has your life in her fucking hands. But okay.” I motion toward the snake curling up Sabine’s arm. “If you’d rather talk to Celeste.”
“No, no!” Carlos panics, eyes flicking to the serpent like she’s about to strike again.
“Then let’s try this again.” I crouch, voice dropping. “Where is Vince?”
He scoffs. “How the fuck should I know? You and your brother got me locked up, remember?”
The second he says brother, rage ignites in my chest. The blade slides into his thigh before I even register the motion. Carlos screams, body bucking, and blood seeps fast down his pants.
“See, I just don’t believe you, Carlos.” I twist the handle slightly, just enough to make him scream again. “That’s the thing about liars. They always forget the details.”
“I haven’t talked to Vince since I got in, I swear,” he sobs. “I don’t even know where he is.”
I stare at him a beat longer, the copper tang of blood already coating the air. He looks pathetic. Broken. But pathetic doesn’t mean honest.
I glance sideways at Sabine. “Got any snakes that can tell if a man is lyin’?”
“No snakes like that here, sorry honey.”
“Hmm. Okay, Carlos. Next question. Since you don’t know where Vince is, answer me this, did you do it?”
“Did I do what, bitch?” he says and spits at the floor.
Wrong answer.
I rip the blade out of his thigh with one clean pull. His scream bounces off the cabin walls. I move it up and slice a thin, slow line straight down his chest. Blood blossoms immediately.
His scream turns to whimpering. I press the tip of the blade to his crotch, not hard, but enough to make the threat clear.
“Call me a bitch again,” I whisper, smiling sweetly, “and your pathetic excuse for a cock goes bye-bye. You understand?”
“Please! No!” he cries, panic flooding his voice. “Please!”
“Then answer the fucking question.” My voice cracks like a whip. “Did you do it, Carlos?”
He gulps, voice lower now. Careful. He’s learning. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Zeke!” I yell the name like a curse. “Chicago. Did you send the tip that got my brother killed?”
Something shifts in his face, just for a second. Then the smile creeps back. My stomach drops. My breath catches. That grin, that look, it hits like a fucking freight train.
Panic. Rage. Dylan.
Sabine must see it—or feel it—because she’s suddenly beside me. Calm. Present. She gently slides the knife from my hand and replaces it with cold steel.
A pistol.
My fingers curl around it automatically. Carlos freezes.
“I had no idea the mutt was dead,” he says slowly. Then, that sick, rotten grin widens. “But I wish I’d been the one to kill him.”
My finger grazes the trigger. I raise the gun, the barrel aimed straight at Carlos’s forehead.
“Do it!” he screams, spit flying, eyes wild.
My finger tightens on the trigger.
“Isabella,” Sabine says softly, like a lullaby cutting through a war-zone. “Be smart now, baby. Don’t waste your revenge on a head-shot.”
I glance at her. She winks and dips her eyes toward Carlos’s crotch. I nod. Then I shift my aim down a little lower and pull the trigger. The shot cracks like thunder. Blood sprays. His body jerks against the chair. He howls like an animal caught in a trap.
Sabine laughs behind me. “Good girl.”
“You fucking bitches!” Carlos roars, spit and agony mangling every word.
Sabine clicks her tongue and steps forward, “May I?”
I nod, handing her the gun without a word.
She circles him slowly. “See here, little man,” she says, crouching to eye level. “I don’t take kindly to anyone who hurts babies.”
Carlos trembles.
“And from what I hear?” She tilts her head. “You’re one of the worst. Taking and selling little ones. Letting monsters into your house to touch and torture the children you were given to protect.”
He whimpers. Sabine lifts the pistol and takes two shots, quick and precise. Both knees. Carlos’s screams rip through the bayou like a banshee’s wail.
I wince. “Damn.”
Sabine just blows the smoke from the barrel. “Told you not to waste revenge on the head-shot.” She turns me toward the door.
Carlos sobs behind us, his breath catching in ragged gasps. “Please,” he cries. “Please don’t leave me here alone like this.”
Sabine pauses mid-step and turns back slowly, smile curling with venom. “Oh honey,” she says sweetly, “we’re not leaving you here alone.”
The door creaks open again. Two of her men step inside, both dressed in black, faces blank. One’s carrying a can of gasoline. The other’s holding a goddamn industrial torch.
Carlos sees it and loses whatever scrap of sanity he was still clinging to.
“No, no. PLEASE!”
We keep walking.
“Bella, please. Mariela. And my child.”
I stop at the door. Slowly turn. He’s pale now, panicked in a whole new way. “Please, Bella. Please don’t hurt them.”
I stare him down, voice sharp as a blade. “Mariela helped me and Zeke get out. Helped us disappear. She saved us, I would never hurt her. Or her child. Trust me, Mariela and her daughter will live a long, happy life without you, Carlos.”
And then I walk out. Behind me, the screaming starts before we even reach the trees. Wet, raw, soul-deep screams that echo off the water like a damn funeral dirge.
We don’t look back. By the time we make it to Sabine’s car, the smoke is already rising in the distance. A low, orange glow flickers between the trees. The bayou has its revenge. I climb into the passenger seat, exhale slowly, and open my phone.
@LucaWasHere
Damn, Izzy. That shot was slick.
Nice work wrecking Carlos’s dick.
Did it feel good? Watching him fall?
Hearing him beg? Seeing him crawl?
Told you, pet. You were built for war.
It’s in your blood, deep in your core.
You’re finally waking up to who you are.
My chaos. My violence. My rising star.
My fingers curl tight around the phone. Sabine slides into the driver’s seat, glancing at me sideways.
“You good, chérie?”
I nod once, jaw locked. “Yeah.”
Sabine taps her long nails on the steering wheel. “Now don’t forget what I asked for, baby. I did you a favor, I expect the same.”
“Your data’s being returned to you as we speak,” I say smoothly. “Pleasure as always, Sabine.”
She smiles like she just won a hand of high-stakes poker. “Pleasure’s mine. You let Sabine know if you ever need anything else, baby.”