CHAPTER 16
Evren
The Shadows – Chris Grey
The moment I slide into my car, I let out a breath I didn't even realize I was holding.
Breaking into her loft, seeing where she lives.
Smelling her everywhere—that scent.
Old leather, faint smoke, metal, warm skin, with a low note of dark amber.
It's addictive and repulsive.
I can't kill her now, I'm having too much fun with her.
Genuinely, she isn't begging for her life like everyone else I usually kill.
No.
She taunts me, hits me back, bites me.
That's far more addictive than her submitting or dying.
I had to be careful with my gunshot wound. If I went back to Ren with the stitches torn open, he'd start asking questions.
And I won't let them know I have a little entertainment on the side.
She despises me, I despise her.
From what I know about her, she'd never fucking let me touch her.
I'm not even interested in that shit. She's infuriating, she can't keep still, she can't fucking stop shouting.
And she won't let me have my revenge in peace.
“Fuck!” I punch my dashboard. “That fucking brat can't even shut her mouth while I have my hand around her throat.”
I grip the steering wheel, my jaw tightening.
“Is she mad?”
When I think about it, she must be. Her status must've gone straight to her pretty, infuriating head.
Or why would she look at me with those mismatched eyes like that? With everything except fear for her life?
I start my car and shift gears, but when I move my foot toward the gas pedal, my gaze drifts to where I can feel the problem.
I'm hard.
Why in the world am I hard? What the fuck is wrong with my dick? The thought of killing her is making me hard?
What the fuck is wrong with me?
I drag my hand over the bulge in my pants, palming myself slowly.
A growl rumbles in my throat at the sensation.
How the fuck can that thing get hard for the vicious bitch who kneed me in the balls?
The sheer audacity to bruise my ego. Not once but twice.
I'm so fucking glad I have my pain dampeners.
Otherwise, I'd probably still be wheezing like a bitch on the floor.
And even after that, I'm getting hard?
When all I want is to play with her and kill her once she gets boring?
I want her to submit, to fucking tell me she's sorry. I want her to beg for her life and finally respect me.
I deserve it.
I didn't build myself out of nothing. I have everything I've ever wanted and always get what I want.
And I'll have her respect before she gets the chance to run her mouth at me again.
I look up at her building and smile. It's not the smile of a good man.
I'm not.
It's the smile of a promise I'm making to myself—And to her.
I'll come back.
I'll become more and more present in her life until she breaks, until all that hate and defiance burns down to ashes.
I fucking won tonight, not by successfully killing her, by getting under her skin.
By breaking into her personal space, she'll never be able to sleep peacefully again.
Every creak in her apartment, every shadow in a corner, every unexpected noise.
She'll wonder if I'm there, if I've come back, if I'm about to invade her space again.
She'll think about me.
And the best part? She'll think about me in the most addictive way possible.
With hate, defiance and fear for her life.
I drive away toward the Lower Layers, toward my place. Not that fucking rich, clean, silent layer.
I hate it. Everything is too fucking quiet.
My comm buzzes, and Lira's name flashes across the screen of my Charger's center console.
I roll my eyes.
I could go to her and fuck her, but I need to actually try to get some sleep.
And I think my little visit to my troublemaker fucked up my stitches anyway.
I've been careful, but I can feel the skin on my side pulling tight.
I might have to stop by the garage first and let Ren see what kind of damage she did.
My apartment is lit only by the city's neon and the red neon sign above my bed.
I'm exhausted. It's fucking ten in the morning.
I haven't slept. Again.
Ren cursed me out for straining my stitches, then stitched me up again. then we laughed about it afterward and drank together—he drank alcohol while I kept downing Nitro cans—and talked about the gang's business.
It wasn't until Varek came back to the garage that I realized how high the sun had climbed in the sky.
None of them mentioned the bite mark on my throat.
They knew better and they probably assumed it was from Lira.
I shed my clothes, leaving myself in nothing but my boxers, and slump onto the couch, not even making it to the bed on the platform above.
I close my eyes, expecting to fall asleep immediately.
Instead, an hour passes with me grunting, turning, and growling in frustration, unable to fucking sleep.
Every time I close my eyes, all I see are hers—Those fucking eyes, that hatred wrapping around me like a fur coat.
For an entire hour, I lie there restless, unable to shut my mind off or my dick.
For fuck's sake.
I rub my face with both hands before sitting up.
If I can't sleep, I might as well check on the merchandise from here.
I pull out my comm, ignoring the hundreds of texts from Lira.
Lira: “Where are you?”
Lira: “Please, I want to feel your cock.”
Lira: “I need you!”
Lira: “When are you coming to see me?”
And a hundred other whining messages just like that.
I roll my eyes and swipe upward, making the screens float out in front of me.
I start reviewing everything.
One of the car shipments is late, and there are credits missing from a transaction involving the sale of drugs used for body modifications, like instant adrenaline boosters for people who can't afford permanent surgery like I did, along with other substances, including hard drugs.
My gang operates mainly through street races.
It's the most profitable part of our business.
But on the side, we also sell drugs, ship and buy mechanical parts for our cars, and supply them to other racers.
Always the best quality.
That's one of the reasons Crimson Velocity is ranked second in Kairo-9.
We're brutes, chaotic by nature and we love creating chaos. But beneath all of that, we're organized and relentless.
Varek and Ren handle most of the internal business, while Neo and I focus more on the races.
Even if I still keep a hand in everything, the gang is mine.
I call Varek through hologram video. He answers instantly. His dark-gold eyes and burnt-copper hair, tied low with molten-orange streaks running through it, look even more striking in hologram form.
“Can't sleep?” he asks.
“Yeah, whatever.” I wave a dismissive hand. “I'm going to send you what I found, and I need you to tell me which fucking idiot stole our car merchandise and who skimmed credits from the drug sales.”
I send him the report. He receives it immediately and stays silent for a moment.
“Okay, I see where this is going.” He pauses. “The merchandise was stolen. Someone sabotaged the delivery to screw us over for the races. The container is marked as delivered.”
“Well, no shit,” I say dryly. “Find out who. And I want Ren to go there with a few trusted members and have a talk with them.”
I lean back.
“If they aren't cooperative, I want him to make them hurt.” I pause. “And the drugs?”
“Well, that's the weird part.” He frowns at the data floating beside him. “The transaction trail is encrypted. Someone is messing with us.”
His gaze lifts to meet mine.
“With you.”
My face reddens with fury. A member of my own gang is stealing from me.
If I find him, he's a dead man.
I punch my coffee table, and it gives way instantly, offering no resistance.
I force myself to calm down.
I might need new stitches in my knuckles now. Blood is already dripping onto my floor.
“Find out who,” I order. “And when you do, bring them to me.”
He nods and hangs up.
Some fucker thought he could steal from me in my own gang?
Fucking big mistake. I'll deal with him.
And when I'm done... I'll come back to her.
I'm not done, far from it.