31. Zayn
CHAPTER 31
ZAYN
It was the kind of place that never received a name, just a location—coordinates passed quietly between men who didn’t draw attention to themselves.
The walls were concrete, and the air inside was cold and musty. Deals like this didn’t require good aesthetics; they required dependability, loyalty, and even fear.
And I delivered all three.
I walked into the center of the warehouse with the same attitude I had when I walked the floor of Elixir. Rye was at my side. Two others hung back at the perimeter—eyes watchful, hands near weapons, just in case.
But there wouldn’t be violence here this afternoon. There didn’t need to be.
The three men waiting at the table straightened when I approached. I watched the way one of them flicked his cigarette to the floor and crushed it under his foot. I got the feeling he thought it made him look good. Or maybe he thought it was a mark of status or maybe respect?
What it was, was stupid . He just left his DNA at the scene. Unacceptable. But it could possibly be beneficial at a later date. I made a note to pick it up when they left.
“Gentlemen,” I greeted coolly.
“McCabe.” The older one—Sandro—gave me a nod. “Rye.” He looked back at me. “You always come in person for transfers now?”
“Only when it suits me,” I said glibly. “Or I want to remind people they’re not as untouchable as they think.”
His eyebrows rose, his gaze flicking to his two companions. “Noted.”
The table was bare except for a black duffel and a thick folder. Old school. It meant the numbers were backed up by names, locations, and a trail no one should have seen. But I would. I always did.
I unzipped the duffel, checked the weight, and moved on. Paperwork next. Clean enough.
There were five more bags on the ground. I glanced at Rye, and he nodded, stepping forward to perform the same checks I had conducted on the other bags. Only he would be more thorough.
Everything was as expected.
And that was exactly what I wanted. Because nothing rattled more cages than showing up calm. Controlled. Unbothered.
“You’ve been pretty quiet,” Sandro said carefully as Rye went through the bags.
“Have I?” I met his stare.
“Not seen you for a while, like I said.”
“I’ve been watching.”
He blinked once. “And?”
“Why must there be an and?” I met his gaze, unflinching. “It’s all become so…amicable. Nothing ever changes. ”
“Yeah.” He grimaced. “Fewer people die these days.” He scratched the back of his head. “Quiet’s a good thing.”
I sniffed. “Is it? Meh.”
I looked over at Rye, who was getting to his feet. He gave me a nod. I sighed in disappointment. “It seems we’re done here.” I gestured to Rye, who handed over his envelope of receipts. Invoices. Documents that he doctored told of items bought that were never sold.
“The rest are digital,” he told them. “They’re already sent.”
They packed up fast, leaving the duffels behind. I handed the paperwork to Rye. “Can you check this?”
“On it.” He took it as he watched me go over and pick up the cigarette butt with a latex glove and drop it in a clear baggie. “Almost laughed when I saw that,” he said, looking around. “Why do they all try so hard?”
“Because they’re idiots.” We left the warehouse, our mood not any lighter because he felt it too.
Tonight hadn’t been about money. It had been about the message. And only half of it was delivered.
Sandro and his men had pulled away in a black SUV, the dust from their wheels still settling as we walked outside. I stood until the lights disappeared from view.
“Torch it,” I instructed quietly. I didn’t need to turn to know that the men did as I asked.
“That’s done,” Rye muttered beside me. “You want to do Luxure first or Splay?”
“Not quite finished here.” I turned back to him and smiled. “Follow me.”
Rye didn’t argue. Just followed. The door was tucked behind the steel delivery bay—unmarked, locked from the outside—and only one bulb overhead hummed with lazy electricity. Rye looked at me in disbelief as he walked farther into the room.
I think I saw an eye roll. I smirked.
He let out a sigh. “So…” He looked between me and the center of the room. “They give you any trouble?”
I laughed. “Not a drop.” I gave them a mocking look. “Just a lot of whining.”
“Shocker.” He looked at me and then at the three men sitting in folding chairs, wrists zip-tied behind their backs.
The same three who’d pulled Isla off the street like she was yesterday’s garbage.
One of them— the one who’d told her he hoped no one came for her— lifted his head and spat at the floor.
I walked slowly toward him. The silence in the room became a living thing. I crouched in front of him, elbows on my knees, calm as ever.
“You touched what’s mine,” I said softly. “ Threatened what’s mine.”
He sneered. “She’s just another whore.” He looked at me with disgust. “It wasn’t personal.”
My thumb dug into the knife wound I’d made earlier when I caught the fucker. “That’s the mistake you made,” I replied. “You thought I do business like your boss.”
His breath caught.
I leaned in, my knife slicing into the back of his knee, just enough for him to feel it. “You should never have looked at her. Never said her name. You don’t get to exist in a world where she does.”
He was trying not to scream, and I stood. I glanced at Rye who was watching me carefully. He didn’t ask for confirmation, just grabbed the man’s chair and dragged him towards the back door.
The other two didn’t speak. One pissed himself. I didn’t blink. I shot them both in the head. Their bodies slumped forward. When Rye came back, he looked at me with reproach.
“Now I know where you went the other morning,” he muttered. He walked to the door and called for one of the others.
“The other one?” I asked.
“Bleeding out, thought he should suffer for calling Barnie a whore.” Rye saw our back up guy and told him to get another can of gas.
The guy came back and doused the room. He went out and came back. “He’s still alive.”
I looked at Rye who shrugged. “He’s in for a rough fucking ending then.”
I didn’t answer. Because I didn’t need to. I walked back to the car and pulled out the alcohol wipes, cleaned my hands, and wiped my blade clean. I tossed the trash into the burning inferno that was once a warehouse.
They’d find the bones in the rubble. They’d know who sent the message immediately. I didn’t leave debts owed to me unpaid.
Rye got into the SUV. His phone buzzed. He checked it and put it back in his pocket.
We drove to Luxure, my other club in Chicago. It was nice and prestigious, not as good as Elixir but still a moneymaker—an e x cellent moneymaker.
They were waiting in my office.
I sat down behind my desk, steel and stone, heavy, immovable. I unbuttoned my jacket and glanced at my watch. We were on schedule. Rye stood at my back.
Across from me, two men I knew by name and reputation were finalizing their end of the delivery. I waited until they were finished. They handed me the tablet .
I scanned it, checking it quickly. I passed it to Rye who was still holding his phone in his hand, his expression flat.
Too flat.
I glanced at his phone. Was something happening?
He checked the contents more slowly than I did; he liked to double-check his double checking. From his pocket, he handed me a flash drive, and I slid it across the table with two fingers. “You’ll find the numbers match.”
“They always do,” the older of the two said. “Deposits are sent.”
“The bags are already in your vehicle,” I told them coolly.
They said their goodbyes, and I watched them leave. It was a clean deal and a smooth delivery, so why was my jaw tight?
Rye’s phone buzzed again. He checked it. Didn’t move.
“Is there something I need to know?” I asked him quietly once the door was fully closed.
“Not yet.” His voice was sharp. Off.
“You’re starting to piss me off.”
“Starting?” he asked with a scoff. “Been doing that since the day I met you,” he said and headed for the door. “Next stop,” he reminded me.
The transaction was just as smooth in Splay, and I waited impatiently for them to clear my building, before we carried on to the next stop.
Patrick Delaney was exactly where I knew he would be. We walked into his business, and after a few well-fired shots, everyone else ran out. He was in his back office, and a girl was on her knees, blowing him. Rye helped her to her feet and told her not to look back.
I closed the door behind her. As Patrick pulled his pants up and tucked away his limp cock, I walked over the cracked floor. Rye didn’t follow. He stayed at the door, his eyes on the outside. Alert.
I’d gotten him alone, and now it was my turn.
Patrick looked between both of us. He’d lost his cocky arrogance. He didn’t think I’d get my hands dirty. He didn’t know me at all.
“Patrick,” I greeted. I punched him and knocked him on his ass. “I asked for a meeting and you went underground? You cowardly piece of shit.”
He coughed. Spat blood to the side as he scrambled to his feet. “You’re going to die for this McCabe.”
Wrong answer.
I moved fast—so fast he didn’t even flinch until it was too late. My fist collided with his jaw, snapping his head sideways. The crack echoed. He choked on the pain, blinking fast, stumbling backward, tripping himself up, and landed back on his ass.
I stepped forward, crouched, and, grabbing his chin between my fingers, yanked his gaze back to mine. “Pay attention, Patrick.”
He didn’t respond. Smart.
I stood again, rolled my neck, and reached for the blade. Small. Clean. Familiar. I held it lightly like it was an extension of my hand.
“You didn’t take her because of what she was to Julian.” I looked down at him, my voice slow, measured. “You didn’t have her dragged into a car like she was nothing because of the debt of a shit gambler.”
“Business,” he mumbled. “It was just?—”
I didn’t let him finish. The blade sliced through the flesh of his thigh—slow, controlled, slicing deep enough through his hamstring. Enough to make him scream in agony. Not enough to end him .
“You bastards always say it’s just business,” I murmured, my voice cold. “But this was personal. You knew exactly who she was and that she was mine .”
He writhed in agony as I stood. Blood soaked through his pants, staining the floor beneath him. I looked over my shoulder at Rye, who was watching me.
“I’m gonna need a minute,” I told him.
Rye nodded, opening the door. “Take your time but not too long. The night’s not over.” The door closed behind him.
I took my time. Cut after cut. Each one a marker for the hours he held her in the darkness. Terrified and alone.
He was screaming now. Hoarse. Panicked. Pleading.
I didn’t stop until he understood. Until it sunk in .
Then I stepped back. Covered in his blood. Breathing calmly. “You’ll live,” I said finally. “But you’ll never walk right again. That left arm is unsalvageable.” I tsked. “You weren’t that pretty before, and those scars won’t help.”
He whimpered, something I didn’t care to hear. Stooping, I picked him up and slung him roughly over my shoulder as he screamed himself into blacking out.
“Pathetic,” I grumbled as I walked across his office floor, out into his business, and out the front door. I dumped the fucker in the front seat of his fucking ugly Bentley.
Rye followed me. He didn’t ask how it went. He didn’t need to. “You good?” he asked quietly.
“No,” I said. “But he’s worse, and that’s all that matters.” I looked down at my clothes and back up at Rye with a grin. “Think I should change?”
He grinned. “You’re a dark fucker, you know that, right?”
I did.
I went back inside and changed, scrubbing my body clean in his shower behind his office. I didn’t dwell on its cleanliness. It did the job. When I was done, Rye covered it in bleach while I got dressed. Then we scrubbed the office.
When we left, Patrick Delaney’s office was cleaner than it had ever been. Rye checked on him as we passed.
“Think he’s bled out.”
“Ah, well, can’t win them all.” I looked around the street. “Leave him.”
We got in the car, and I felt myself relax. All the messages I needed to send had been delivered.
We had one more stop.
Angelo was in a downtown pizza place, watching hockey as he ate a slice. I took a seat beside him.
“Vega took him,” Angelo said calmly. He gave me a look. “Don’t think he was too happy he was already dead.”
“Oops.”
I handed him a flash drive. “Everything you asked for as been delivered.”
He took it, pocketed it, and ate his pepperoni slice. “Hawks getting worse.”
“There’s always next year.” I stood. “Tell your boss he pulls a stunt like this again I don’t give a fuck who he’s friends with.”
Angelo laughed low. “We’ll let it be known that Ms. Wells is off-limits to all.”
“Same goes to you,” I said quietly. “Turning up at her work? I don’t appreciate it.”
Angelo smiled. “Wanted to see what the woman who made you lose your edge looked like.”
“I haven’t lost my edge.”
He looked up at me, a small smile playing around his lips. “Agreed.” He picked up his slice. “See you soon. There’s money to be made in Delayney’s old business. ”
It was as good as I was going to get. As I left, I clapped him on the shoulder and told him to enjoy his pie.
The air outside the pizza place felt cleaner now. A sense of calm settled over me. I stood in silence as Rye finished checking the tablet he had with him, as he spoke softly into his phone, coordinating the rest. A cleanup at Delaney’s. A message to everyone.
I rolled my shoulders, the heaviness of the suit jacket feeling too tight now that the heat of control was fading.
“You good?” Rye asked, looking over his shoulder at me.
I didn’t answer immediately. Then I gave a single nod. “They won’t touch her again.”
Rye grunted in agreement, but I could still sense it—the tension simmering beneath his usual restraint. The last few weeks had made us both feel on edge. The walls felt too close. The stakes were too high. And Isla? She was the only line I wouldn’t play dirty with.
Rye’s phone buzzed, and he checked it.
My eyes snapped to his face. “What?”
He turned the screen to show me a different text. Fifteen minutes old.
We might have a problem. Not urgent yet. A check-in would be good
My fingers twitched. “You didn’t mention this.”
“She said it wasn’t urgent.”
“And if she was just saying that to keep herself calm?”
“I already checked with Jayden, she’s fine, Elixir is fine.”
I wanted to hear it for myself. I grabbed my phone and called her, and it went straight to voicemail.
Fuck.
I was already moving. Rye matched my pace as we strode toward the SUV. “Guys, let’s go!” he yelled over his shoulder .
“Where’s Jayden?” I demanded.
“He’s been handling a situation in the lower level.” He saw my look. “Assholes testing the waters when the sharks aren’t there. Jayden sent Mikhail up.” He glanced at me. “Elixir’s main crew is all in.”
“It’s not enough.”
Rye shot me a look. “You don’t know that yet.”
“I know she’s alone.”
He didn’t argue. I dropped into the passenger seat and slammed the door shut. “We need to get back to the club. Now.”
Rye didn’t waste a second. Wheels screeched against the concrete as we peeled away from the warehouse.
As the city lights blurred past us, I stared out the window, my jaw clenched tight. I’d just spent the last few hours sending a message to the kind of men who thought they could steal from me. Touch what was mine. And now? Someone else might be testing me again. Only this time…it wasn’t about business.
It was about her .
And if anything happened to Isla while I was out playing god in the shadows?
They’d all pay .
I tried to call her again. No answer. Silence.
And that silence? It sliced straight through the armor I wore like a second skin.
“Faster, Rye.” I took a deep breath. “Stop for nothing.”