Chapter Eleven
Karter
Her soft snores should soothe something in me. Should lull me to sleep with the way she’s wrapped around me like a warm, willing vine. But they don’t.
Instead, I lie there, awake.
Restless. Hollow.
Her warmth fills the bed, not the void. That emptiness comes from somewhere deeper. Somewhere pain still has teeth.
And I feel them now.
Wyck’s glare pierces through the dark like a bullet to the chest. He’s not asleep either. He’s watching me watch her. Watching the way I ache for her even in silence.
Our eyes lock, and just like that, he leans in, pressing a kiss to her lips like a fucking claim.
Then he mouths, “Follow me.”
The bed shifts. His feet hit the floor with purpose. He doesn’t break my gaze, doesn’t need to. I press a kiss to her temple, my own mark, then slide out of bed, trailing him into the shadows like a loyal devil answering a summon.
The silence downstairs is loaded. Not the peaceful kind. The kind before a blade’s unsheathed.
I try to guess what’s so urgent he couldn’t wait until morning, but with Athens involved? Logic doesn’t apply. If it’s about her, all bets are off.
Then the smell hits me. Sweet. Warm. Sinful.
Cinnamon. Sugar. Butter and spice.
Maeve’s fucking baking. Again. Does this woman ever sleep?
I almost smile.
We round the corner, and there she is, fierce as hell, barefoot at the stove like she owns the night.
Pie. Has to be pie. Apple if the world still has any decency.
I sneak up and crush her in a hug from behind. “Still up, old girl?”
She snorts. “I’ll show you old, boy.” A playful nose-pluck. “You two down here to make amends, or just to stir up more trouble?”
Wyck sinks into a chair like he’s weighed down by something heavy. “Karter did what he did because she asked him to. Doesn’t make it right, but I get it. If it were me, I’d have done the same. Anything to stop her pain.”
His voice is flat. Honest. Deadly calm.
“Nothing’s broken that needs fixing,” he finishes.
I eye him. “You sure about that?”
He meets my stare. No games now. “Yeah. I’m sure.” A pause. “I’m not the only one whose feelings matter anymore. Whether I want to admit it or not, we’re hers. Her Devils. My alpha instinct just doesn’t like sharing.”
His lip twitches in a smirk that doesn’t reach his eyes. “I’m sorry for punching your pretty face earlier.”
I bark a laugh. “No. I should be thanking you. Getting punched in this pretty face got me a very… generous reward in the club bathroom.”
His jaw clenches. “I know . Some fresh-faced Devil was guarding the door and wouldn’t let me in. Me.”
“You should’ve told him you’d fuck his mom and sister while Daddy watched.”
Wyck gapes. “You said that ?”
I shrug, grinning. “What else was I gonna do? I didn’t want interruptions. Especially not from you.”
He narrows his eyes. “Who was the audience?”
“Fred and Ryan.” I lick my lips, picturing the way her mouth wrapped around me like she was starving. My cock stirs at the memory, forcing me to adjust.
“Karter,” he warns.
“What? She wanted to. She wants to be our dirty little slut. I’m just giving her what she needs. I suggest you do the same.”
His silence tells me he agrees, even if he hates hearing it from me.
“I know,” he finally says. “But the fun ends tonight. We have bigger things to handle. Leads are thin, and something about this whole thing stinks.”
I nod. “Bash?”
“More than just him. Niko and Felix found something. You’re not gonna like it.”
He says it like it matters. Like I haven’t lived off things I hate.
“Spit it out.”
He leans in. His voice drops.
“Our fathers… they’re in on it, too.”
My stomach knots. “What the fuck are you saying?”
He doesn’t blink. “They’ve got evidence. Yours. Mine. Onyx’s. All working together behind the scenes. But it doesn’t stop there.”
“Don’t stop on my account,” Maeve cuts in, placing steaming mugs of Irish tea in front of us. “Drink. You’ll need it.”
She disappears before we can speak.
Wyck doesn’t wait. “My father drugged Athens. Married her while she was unconscious. That’s why she doesn’t remember. And he owes your fathers money. They beat the shit out of him because he was stalling.”
I go still.
The rage that pulses through me is ancient .
“I want to know why he married her. Why he owes them. Why she was the price.”
Wyck nods. “We all do. We need the others in on this. We’re running out of time.”
“We tell them first thing,” I growl. “This shit runs deep. And when she finds out… everything’s going to break.”
Wyck’s eyes harden. “Then we’ll hold her together. Or we’ll burn the world until nothing’s left but us.”
We drain our mugs, finish forming a plan, then return to bed like shadows slipping back into place.
She’s curled between the sheets, soft and oblivious.
But not close enough.
I slide in, wrap my arms around her, and pull her on top of me, burying my face in her hair.
“Couldn’t just share, could you?” Wyck grumbles, already half-asleep.
“Nope.” I whisper.
I hold her tighter, feeling the storm on the horizon.
And I smile.
Let it come. We’re Devils. We were born in the dark.
And we’ll make sure they die in it.