CHAPTER 18
ZANE
The phone vibrates and I pick it up without hesitation—already knowing who it is.
"Zane," Charlie’s voice crackles through the line before I can even speak. "How’s the mission going?"
I lean back against the wall, trying to shake the tension in my shoulders. "I’m doing well as Reign. Nico’s buying it so far, but I need to be careful. Paulina’s the wild card. She’s the one who could blow everything up."
Charlie’s voice sharpens, no time for small talk. "You’re running out of time. The longer you stay there, the more dangerous it gets. You need to come back before it’s too late."
I clench my jaw, my mind already half on Mia, half on the mission. "Not without Mia."
I pause, gathering my thoughts, then continue. "I’m trying to delay production of this drug as long as I can. But whoever came up with the recipe was a genius. It’s nearly impossible to replicate. Highly lethal."
Charlie snorts, her disbelief evident. "Laura Murray created the recipe, Zane."
"Laura Murray created the recipe, Zane."
My jaw clenches. No surprise there. The woman was brilliant but obsessed with the chemical synthesis of psychotropic compounds.
"That explains the complexity," I mutter, rubbing my eyes. "Its active ingredient is a modified alkaloid, probably derived from ergolinic acid, but with an unusual side chain. The attempts I've seen at replicating it all have stereochemistry deviations, reducing the potency. But if someone gets the configuration right…"
"It’s going to be a massacre," she finishes.
Exactly.
Silence stretches on, but Charlie isn’t one to stay quiet for long.
"Have you spoken to Mia?"
My spine stiffens.
"I didn’t get the chance."
But I used that information as an excuse to fuck her senseless. Who am I kidding? I’m so messed up that I’d have forgiven her, even if she really did kill him. Maybe that makes me a bad person, but honestly, I can’t bring myself to care. When it comes to her, all the lines blur, and I’d do anything to keep her close.
She lets out a short, humorless laugh.
"Stop running away from difficult conversations."
I snort, leaning back against my sit.
"Charlie, I’m not sure she even knows she didn’t kill Carter. She’s just trying to survive this in her own way. Right now, convincing her to leave is what matters."
"She doesn't think she’ll be accepted into TSOC , does she?"
My silence speaks for itself.
"You know, when the time comes, I’ll be by your side, right?" Charlie’s voice turns firm. "I won’t let anyone hurt Mia, no matter her past."
I grip the phone tighter.
"I know."
And I know she means it.
But Mia wouldn’t believe me if I told her the truth—that she can’t be killed, even if she did kill people from the Society of Crow.
She was under inhumane conditions when she did it.
Then there’s the affair, and the fact that she’s my wife.
Her trial would be held by the four wives of the leaders, two of whom are Mia’s friends. Even if that doesn’t affect the fairness of the trial, Mia has a good case and people who’ll listen. Giulia Ross would probably be the hardest to convince.
They say she’s brutal. But I still have the family card, since I’ve known Trevor since he was a kid, and I learned she’s Pietro Barone’s sister—Laura’s sister’s husband.
So, in a sense, she and Mia are family. That should count for something. Plus, she can’t be harmed without a good reason. I don’t think Andi would condemn Mia. She’s fair. So is Logan.
"Take care of things for me."
Charlie lets out a sound that’s almost a laugh.
"As if you needed to ask."
The call ends, and the silence of the makeshift lab weighs heavily in the air. The smell of poorly stored solvents and chemicals hits me first—a sure sign this shit was put together by amateurs, or at least people who didn’t have the same refinement as the Society.
I step out of the room where I just finished talking to Charlie. It's become my favorite hideaway here—soundproof, no cameras. They must use it as an experimentation chamber or something like that. Whatever the hell it’s meant for, it’s perfect for slipping away and making calls without anyone eavesdropping.
As I move down the hall, I can’t shake the unease crawling under my skin. This place... it doesn’t have the polish of the Society. It’s rough around the edges, thrown together. Not like the meticulous precision I’m used to. But it’ll do—for now.
The equipment’s rudimentary. The distillation flasks are precariously connected, and the condensation’s poorly done, wasting material. The compressed gas cylinders aren’t properly secured—this place is a time bomb waiting to go off.
This isn’t a lab. It’s an alley with expensive glassware.
I pretend I’m just evaluating someone else’s work. Nico believes one of the men Charlie selected is the chemist helping with drug production. But I’m the one doing all the work since they’re not real chemists. Luckily, Nico rarely comes here, and everyone just sees me as the hands-on boss. I start fiddling with the vials, evaluating the substances with an experienced eye, pretending to look busy while I think about how to destroy this without drawing attention.
That’s when I hear footsteps behind me.
"Mr. Mitchell, right?"
The voice’s slurred, oily. When I turn, I see a man in his fifties, wearing an immaculate lab coat that doesn’t match the filth around us. He smiles, and everything about him disgusts me.
"Dr. Icaza," he introduces himself, tilting his head like he’s studying me. "I’m responsible for keeping my dear boss’s… employees healthy."
My eyes narrow, but he continues before I can speak.
"I was caring for Mia before you came along. It’s a shame she was taken from my care. She has a delicate condition. It requires care, patience… a specialized touch."
The malice in his voice is obvious. The way he says her name—dragging out each syllable—makes me want to break every bone in his body.
I connect the dots.
The fucking scar on her arm. The terror she felt of certain touches. The way she flinched when someone mentioned "treatment."
Icaza.
The bastard was one of the ones who hurt her.
My vision goes dark.
The next moment is a blur. My fist meets his face with a dull crack, and he crumples before he can even process what’s happened.
I didn’t take him to the shed.
I took him to one of the rooms in the lab—one of the ones without cameras. The kind we pretend don’t exist. No windows, no recordings, just concrete walls and a bolted chair in the center of the room. It smells like rust and bleach, like too many secrets soaked into the floor.
Icaza’s slumped over, tied to the chair, blood trailing from his mouth to his chin. His head hangs low, shoulders twitching like he’s only half-conscious.
I lean against the wall, watching him.
This isn’t for show. No one's coming to stop me.
I’m silent, waiting for him to wake up.
When he finally lifts his face, his bleary eyes blink a few times before focusing on me.
"What…"
I grip the pliers in my hand, feeling the weight of them. The sight of his blood-streaked face makes my stomach churn, but I shove the nausea down.
I hate this—every part of it. The smell of blood, the sickening sound of his ragged breaths—it all twists something deep inside me. But I’ll do it. For Mia. I’ll do whatever I have to.
I know when I’m done with him, I won’t even bother to hide the body. I’ll leave it as a message. Nico will see. I never thought I would kill for someone. I’ve always loathed the act, but it’s her. She deserves, for once, someone fighting her battles.
I slip my earphones in, the familiar pulse of BLACKPINK - DDU-DU DDU-DU filling my ears. I don’t want to hear his screams. I have sensitive hearing, but if I’m being honest, there’s something almost soothing about having a soundtrack to his panic, his bloodied face. It’s like I can tune it all out and just focus on the moment.
On the action.
"Let’s talk, doctor."
The bitter taste lingers on my tongue as I rest my hands on the sink, staring at my reflection. I hate torture; it always leaves me feeling sick, the way violence churns in my gut like acid. But still, if it means eliminating every bastard who’s ever hurt Mia, I’ll do it.
It’s not the first time I’ve crossed that line.
The first time was the night of my nightmare. Mia had been asleep, and I went after one of the guards. I'd overheard him reminiscing about the "good old days" when they could keep her caged and use her for whatever they wanted. That shit cut deep.
Nico had orchestrated it, though, making sure the guard was around just to get under my skin after what I’d said to him that night. He’s always playing me, always testing my limits.
At first, I thought about just killing the bastard. A quick end. But that night, I was so fucked up in the head, I couldn’t think straight. Mia was asleep, and in that silence, I slipped away, not caring about the consequences. I tortured him slowly, making sure to rip his dick off while he was still breathing.
The next morning, I threw up for hours.
I could feel it coming again—my body trying to reject what I’d done. But the need to protect Mia, to destroy whoever’s gotten in her way, is overwhelming.
I just want to take her home, pull her out of this hellhole. But how do I do that without turning her into a ticking time bomb?
She’s so filled with fear that she can’t see how much I want to protect her, how she’s not alone in this. She thinks Nico might kill me, and yeah, he might. But there are people watching my back, people who will protect me, even if she doesn't believe it.
I take a slow breath, trying to keep the rising bile down.
Mia’s behind me, quiet. But I can feel her, her presence like static, the air crackling around her as she watches me. Studying me. I know she’s getting ready to see her psycho brother, and I need to get my shit together and accompany her.
"Are you throwing up again?" she asks, her voice playful but laced with something darker.
I don’t answer, just keep brushing my teeth, focusing on the methodical motions, pretending it’s enough to distract me.
But Mia doesn’t move. She’s relentless.
In the mirror, I see her reflection.
Her gaze drifts over me, from my face to my stomach, before darkening with desire. She bites her lip, and I know that look. I know exactly what she’s thinking.
A heat burns through me, spreading lower, dangerously. My grip tightens on the toothbrush.
"Do you like what you see?" My voice comes out a little rougher than I intended.
Her smile is slow, deliberate. She shrugs. "Maybe." Her eyes gleam with something wicked.
I spit the foam into the sink and rinse my mouth, trying to ignore how close she’s getting.
Her bare feet don’t make a sound as she walks toward me.
Then I feel her hand, soft fingers trailing down my back, lazy as if she has all the time in the world. But I know better. It’s anything but innocent.
A low sigh slips from my mouth, my eyes closing briefly. She knows exactly what she’s doing.
“Mia,” I warn, my voice low and steady, but there’s more heat in it than I mean.
She hums, pressing herself closer, her warm breath against my skin, sending shivers down my spine.
I turn to face her, and the smile on her lips only deepens. There’s something almost daring in her eyes, a challenge without words.
“You have no shame, do you?” I mutter, my words laced with something darker.
“Of what?” She tilts her head, her fingers now resting on my stomach, nails scratching lightly, teasing. “Admiring a fine piece of work?”
My jaw clenches. "You're insufferable."
"But you like it."
She steps closer, her body almost flush with mine, the sweet scent of her skin filling the space between us. I could walk away. I could stop this before it spirals out of control.
But I don’t want to.
My hand slides to her waist, pulling her in closer, my grip tighter than necessary.
She gasps, her breath hitching.
“Is that what you want?” My voice comes out rougher now, dripping with something I can’t hold back anymore.
Her eyes flicker with a dangerous gleam, her smile slipping into something wilder before she pulls me in for a kiss that shatters whatever control I had left.
I kiss her with a desperation that shouldn’t exist, but it does. There’s no softness, no hesitation, just the unbearable heat of need.
Mia sighs into me, her hands curling into fists against my chest before sliding down my abdomen, as if she’s memorizing every inch of me.
“You’re so tense...” she murmurs, her voice thick with amusement and something darker.
A low, rough laugh escapes me, and I tighten my grip on her waist, pulling her even closer. “And whose fault is that?”
She laughs, the sound sweet, before it fades into something breathless when my fingers trail down her back, dragging slowly over her skin.
She arches against me, her body responding before she even realizes it.
“Don’t mess with me, Mia,” I growl, my eyes locking onto hers.
"I want to try," she says, her voice thick with vulnerability, "I want to try to do this, like a normal girl who likes a boy. I want this. Can we try?"
The words hang in the air, charged with something raw, something real.
I feel the heat of them before I even reply.
"What do you want to try, sweet chaos?" I ask, my voice low, rough, as the tension builds between us, thick and electric.
She swallows, eyes dark with desire, a hint of challenge in her gaze. "You know."
A slow smile spreads across my face, my body tightening as I step closer, the space between us practically crackling with need.
"Tell me, baby." The words come out as a whisper, but the intensity in them makes it feel like I’m demanding more than just an answer.
“Fuck,” she whispers, her cheeks reddening as her words tumble out, hesitant but full of truth. "I want you... I don’t know how to explain, but I saw you, and I want you to fuck me. But before, I want to taste you."
Fuck, this girl.
There’s an innocence in her voice, a quiet longing, like she’s still figuring out what these feelings mean, but they’re there, clear and undeniable.
"So, seeing me shirtless makes you want me, huh?"
"Yes." Her fingers tangle in my hair, tugging with a boldness that sends a pulse straight to my cock.
“This is your horniness talking, baby.”
“Let’s just let it give its speech, then.”
She wants to break me, push me to the edge and see how far I’ll go.
I lift her effortlessly, forcing her legs around my waist.
Her breath catches in her throat, her nails digging into my shoulders.
“Mine,” she whispers, her lips trailing down my neck.
And for a moment, I forget everything.
Just her and me.
"You too," I reply, carrying her over to the sink counter and sitting her down. My hands trail up her thighs, moving slowly, tracing every curve.
She bites her lip, her chest rising and falling rapidly. "Are you going to keep looking at me, or are you going to let me do something?"
My smile grows. I love it when she gets impatient.
"You're so bossy."
"And you like it."
She's right. I do.
So, I don't waste any more time. My mouth finds hers again, and this time there’s no room for teasing or words—only desire.
Hunger.
A raw, urgent need that consumes us before any rational thought has a chance to stop us.
Mia doesn’t wait for me.
Before I can do anything, she traces the lines of my abdomen with her fingertips, too slowly, as if she wants to torture me.
"Have you always been this handsome, or am I just now noticing?" Her voice sounds casual, but I can see the predatory glint in her eyes.
My jaw clenches. "Mia."
"Shhh," she murmurs, her fingers trailing up to my chest. "I like when we do things my way."
I arch an eyebrow but don’t back away when she leans in, her lips hovering dangerously close to mine. "What if I don’t want to?" I tease.
She smiles, her fingers tangling in my hair before tugging, forcing me to tilt my head back. The sharp pain only adds to the heat already consuming my body.
"You want."
I could argue. I could take back control at any moment.
But the way she’s looking at me, like she already knows exactly what she wants to do with me—it’s hard to explain.
I like seeing her like this, so free, so confident, so effortlessly herself. It makes everything feel more real, more alive.
I don’t mind letting go of control if it means giving it to her. I’d give her everything—without hesitation—if she asked.
And I know I’m fucked when I see her lick her lips before biting them, a dangerous glint in her eyes.
"Now be a good boy and be quiet," she murmurs, her mouth sliding down my neck, her teeth scraping against my skin. "I haven't even started yet."
The last shred of self-control I had dissolves the moment Mia bites my neck. It wasn’t a sweet kiss or a light tease—it was a warning. A reminder that this time, I’m the one in her hands.
And, shit, I like it.
She lets go of my hair only to drag her nails down my chest, leaving a warm trail in her wake. Her touch is lazy, deliberately slow, as if she's savoring every second, testing me to see how far she can take me before I break.
"Mia," I warn, my voice huskier than I want it to be.
But she ignores me.
"I told you to be quiet, remember?" Her mouth slides over my collarbone, then lower, her lips pressing against my skin with blatant possessiveness. "Or do you not know how to follow orders?"
I go silent and she smiles.
My breath catches in my throat as Mia drags her hands to the waistband of my pants and unceremoniously pulls them down. Her fingers trace a dangerous path across my exposed skin, so close and yet so far from where I need them most.
"Fuck," I mutter, closing my eyes for a second.
Mia laughs, pleased. "I’ve barely started and you're already like this?"
I open my eyes and glare at her. "If you keep messing around, I'll end this my way."
She tilts her head, feigning consideration. "No."
"No?"
She bites her lip, leaning in until her mouth brushes mine. "I told you I’m going to do things my way. And you're going to like it."
I should fight for control. I should turn the situation around, make her surrender first. But the truth?
I want to see what she’ll do next.
So, I just smile, rest my forehead against hers, and whisper against her lips:
"Then show me."
Mia smiles against my mouth, a slow, arrogant smile full of promise. She likes being in control, likes seeing me like this—tense, at the mercy of her whims.
And this time, I let her.
Her hands slide down my abdomen before moving even lower, her nimble fingers closing around me without warning. My body responds instantly, a low moan escaping my lips before I can stop myself.
I squeeze my eyes shut for a second, jaw clenched. "You talk too much."
"But you love it." Mia squeezes a little tighter, her movements slow and torturous. "You love it when I tease you, when I do exactly what I want with you."
"You're thinking too highly of yourself, Mia." My voice comes out cracked, my fingers digging into the countertop beside me to keep from grabbing it back.
She leans in, her lips brushing against my neck as she whispers, "And you're going to let me keep finding myself, because you like it that way."
She’s right.
I like the way she touches me. I like the way she tortures me, like she knows exactly what to do to break me little by little.
Mia stripped bare of her clothes, and soon she was on her knees, naked, looking me straight in the eyes. She held my hard cock in both hands. It was then that I finally appreciated how soft and delicate her fingers were. They felt heavenly.
But that was just the beginning. She leaned forward and took the head of my cock into her mouth. With her lips wrapped around me, she used her tongue to expertly swirl against the tip of my throbbing erection, which felt like home.
I'm insanely crazy about her.
That's why I would hand over every fucked up part of me to her on a silver platter. Because nothing is as good as her.
As good as feeling closer to her like this.
Mia needs control—she needs to feel that power, especially amid everything messed up around us.
We're in this together, and I’m here to make sure she knows that.
So, I let her take the lead. Because I want to be everything she needs.
And because her mouth on my cock sucking me like that should be a crime how good it is.
Fuck.
Our eyes were locked. That’s when she lowered her head and took most of my shaft into her mouth. Her head bobbed in a calculated motion. Her hands were in sync with her caresses. Her tongue was in the same alignment.
She sucked my cock with such enthusiasm and vigor that she had to use her fingers to tuck her white hair behind her ears.
The sensation in my cock was teetering on the edge of agony.
“Look how hard you get for me,” she says in a sweet voice releasing my cock with a pop sound. “I like that.”
The tip of her tongue teases my head as I bury my hands in her white locks.
"Whatever’s weighing on you, I can ease the pain, little angel. Only I can,” she sooted making my cock twice harder.
I let out a shaky breath at her words, my hips instinctively meeting her mouth.
Fuck. Fuck.
My hard, throbbing cock was in Mia's mouth as she sucked skillfully.
I was on the edge of begging for mercy when she pulled away, my control slipping entirely as something far more primal surged within me.
“I can't take it, I need to be inside you, now.”
“Who’s in charge now?”
“Fuck Mia, if I have to beg for you I will,” I say pressing her against the wall, my cock teasing her wet slit, All my instincts screamed at me to take her, to plunge inside her in one swift, desperate motion.
"Mia,” I panted.
"Hm,” she moans grinding against the head of my cock, her slippery pussy was driving me wild, leaving a trail of chaos on me, teasing me, pushing me to the edge of madness.
"Fuck, baby, please.”
“No begging, just fuck me, Zane. I know you can make love to me, I know you can be gentle. But I need you to fuck me.”
Her words broke the last thread of control I had. Not so gently, I push my thickness into her tight pussy. She moans as her nails dig into my back. And I continue to thrust into her deeply.
“More,” she begs, clinging closer. It’s intense. Every time we have sex. It’s like my body and hers are made of the same material, fused into the same thing.
It is desperate and needy, it is carnal.
I thrust so hard into her that she screamed probably alerting all the staff in the mansion. Our breaths are even and her hands run through my hair as I fuck her like she asked me to.
With my fingers digging into her jaw, I lean forward and kiss her like a man starved.
It’s savage, raw—like I’m devouring her, as if her mouth is the only thing that can silence the chaos inside me.
I bite her lip, hard.
She gasps, a scream building in her throat, but I don’t stop.
I taste blood, and something dark inside me stirs, hungry for more.
She is killing the man I knew and releasing the dark shadow that resides within me.
The man who swore he would never be able to connect with anyone on that level.
And the same man who runs his hand over her sensitive nipples, driving her crazy and consequently spurting his cum inside her greedily.
I feel my body slick with sweat, but I don’t pull away. Instead, I press my forehead to hers, a smile tugging at my lips as the connection seeps between us, raw and undeniable.
She smiles back, and in that moment, everything feels right.
“For two people who rejected sex like the plague, we’re getting good at it.”
“Because that’s more Mia.”
“Yeah..” she murmurs “That’s more.”
My hands grip her waist tightly, pulling her back to me.
She gasps in surprise but then lets out a breathy laugh as I keep her pinned against the wall.
Fuck. I want to fuck her again. I feel like a uncontrolled animal when it comes to her.
“Next time, I’ll make you beg, little angel.”
"Do you want to play with control, Mia?" My voice drops to a low growl against her lips. "Let’s see how long you can take it."
She bites her lip, her legs tightening around my waist, a challenge in her eyes. "Do your worst."
And I do.