Chapter 2 #2
Rev replaces him, his intense gaze locking onto mine as he gently takes my hand. The humor fades from his eyes, replaced by a seriousness that makes my heart skip a beat. “Be careful out there, little bit. I hate when we’re apart.”
The weight of his words presses into my chest. His hand slides up to cup my cheek, his thumb brushing lightly against my skin. Then, without breaking eye contact he leans in, his lips touching mine—soft, feather-light, deliberate. Careful. Tender. It burns hotter than Kai’s teasing.
Hudson waits by the elevator, patient, his stance relaxed but his eyes sharp. Keys on the counter catch my eye, and I scoop them up as I stalk over. His brow arches when I flash them at him.
“Like fuck are you driving,” he says flatly, snatching them from my grip and tossing them back to Kai without effort.
I roll my eyes, stepping into the elevator. “All right, old man.”
Ignoring the choking laugh coming from one of the twins, Hudson follows me into the elevator, pressing the button for the ground floor. The confined space amplifies his presence, the subtle scent of his cologne wrapping around me.
I lean back against the elevator wall, crossing my arms over my chest as I eye him critically.
I know in reality there is only nine years between us.
Ever since he started working for us almost two years ago I have put up a clear wall between us, but today, l can’t resist trying to poke at his rigid control.
"You know, for someone your age, you move pretty fast," I remark, my tone dripping with faux concern. "Should I be worried about you throwing your back out?"
His eyes flick to me, amusement dancing in their depths. "Considering I can still outrun and outfight you on your best day, my back is just fine," he retorts smoothly, not missing a beat.
I sigh dramatically. "Denial is the first sign of aging, you know. Next thing, you'll be bitching about 'kids these days' and going to bed at eight."
A low, dark chuckle escapes his lips, a sound that thrums in my chest. "Keep it up, and I'll start enforcing a curfew for you. Eight o’clock was it?"
I arch a brow. "Please. Like you could control me."
He leans closer, voice dropping to a dangerous murmur. “Don’t make me prove you wrong.”
The air thickens, heat and irritation tangling. I hold his stare, unflinching. “In your dreams, old man.”
His smirk widens, sharp as a blade. “You have no idea what I dream about.”
The elevator dings, breaking the moment, but the tension clings like smoke. He slides his mask of professionalism back on, gesturing forward. “After you.”
I lift my chin, refusing to acknowledge the flutter in my stomach as I stride out of the elevator.
As we walk through the dark and empty nightclub Hudson falls into step beside me, his gaze scanning the surroundings for any sign of threat.
Outside, the black SUV is already waiting at the curb, engine purring. One of Hudson's men stands by the car door, opening it as we approach. I pause, casting a look at Hudson.
"I still don't see why I can't drive. I know these streets better than you," I argue, not ready to let the issue drop.
Hudson doesn’t even blink. "And I know how to keep you alive. Let me do my job."
I roll my eyes but climb into the SUV without further protest. As he settles into the driver's seat, I can't resist one last jab.
"Just try not to fall asleep at the wheel. I know it's hard at your age."
He glances at me in the rearview mirror, his lips twitching, but there is something harder in his eyes now. "Careful, sweetheart."
I huff, turning to look out the window as we pull away from the curb. The city rushes past, a mixture of dilapidated buildings and thriving establishments that we've painstakingly built up over the years.
As we pass a drug store I turn to Hudson, breaking the silence. “At some point today, can we make a stop? I need to change my hair again.”
Hudson glances at me, his eyebrow raising slightly, but he doesn’t question it.
As we navigate through the streets, my mind drifts to the message left at the burned building on Fifth Street. The threat was clear, and while I refuse to be intimidated, I can't ignore the nagging worry gnawing at the back of my mind.
“Any updates on Fifth Street?” My voice cuts through the quiet. I don’t sugarcoat the question.
Hudson’s jaw ticks, eyes fixed on the road. “Nothing concrete. A few leads. Nothing I’d bet your life on.”
I nod, tapping my fingers against my thigh impatiently. "We can't afford to let this slide. Whoever did this needs to be made an example of."
He glances at me briefly before returning his focus to the road. "Agreed. But we need to be smart about it. Rushing in without all the information could make things worse."
I bristle at his cautionary tone. "Sometimes force is exactly what's needed to keep people in line."
Hudson sighs, his grip on the steering wheel tightening. "And sometimes it leads to unnecessary casualties."
I bite back a retort because he’s not wrong, and I hate that he’s not wrong. “Fine. But when we get a name, I want blood. No hesitation.”
His gaze flickers back to me, hard, promising. “You’ll have it.”
The rest of the drive passes in relative silence, both of us lost in our thoughts.
When we finally arrive at the new club, I take a moment to appreciate the transformation.
The exterior, though still a work in progress, has a certain allure with its sleek lines and vibrant colors.
It’s hard not to feel a swell of pride mixed with anticipation for the grand opening.
Hudson ignores the no-parking sign, pulling right up to the curb like he owns the city.
Which, to be fair, we basically do. Near the entryway of the club, a banner announces the grand opening, and workers are putting the finishing touches on the new signage.
One spots me and nearly trips over himself to get closer.
“Perfect timing,” he blurts, excitement shining through grime.
“We’re about to light it up. You can let the bosses know we did a good job, right? "
I chuckle softly, always amused by everyone's assumption that the twins are the ones in charge.
I nod in agreement, and the worker gives the go-ahead to one of the others.
The sign blazes to life, the brightness striking even in broad daylight—though not as striking as it will be on Dead Devil's Night. I hum in appreciation.
My lips curve into a slow, dangerous smile.
The worker stares, wide-eyed, desperate. “Did we do good?”
“You did perfect,” I tell him.
Lit up across the front of the building in a beautiful teal color are the words ‘Devil’s Playground’.