Chapter 40 #3
I kept my fingers wrapped firmly around the delicate silver chain attached to his wrists.
The half-mask obscured enough of his features to provide anonymity, but I could still read every microexpression—the tightening of his jaw, the dangerous gleam in his eyes as Juarez's lieutenant continued speaking just a few feet away.
"Don Juarez wants the girl ready," the man said, swirling amber liquid in his glass.
I tightened my grip on the chain, seeing Gavriel's bare chest rise and fall with carefully controlled breaths.
"And if she's not cooperative?" asked the woman draped across the lieutenant's lap, her fingers tracing patterns on his chest.
The lieutenant laughed. "Then she'll learn what happens to disobedient whores. Don Juarez has special methods for training reluctant brides."
Gavriel's entire body went rigid. I pressed my fingers harder into his shoulder, digging my nails into his skin, hoping the pain was a distraction, an anchor.
"Color?"
"Yellow," he breathed, the strain evident in his voice. "Approaching red."
I needed to redirect before he blew our cover. Standing smoothly, I tugged on his chain, pulling him to his feet. "Follow me, pet."
Leading him away from Juarez's man, I guided him through the maze of people until we were back in our private alcove. As soon as we were hidden from view, I pressed him against the wall, my body flush against his.
"Breathe," I commanded, one hand at his throat, the other gripping his hip. "Stay with me."
"They're going to—"
"We won't let that happen," I cut him off, applying just enough pressure to his throat to focus his attention. "We need information, not a bloodbath. Not yet."
His eyes burned into mine, and for a moment, I glimpsed the deadly enforcer beneath the submissive exterior—the Owl’s Talon, executioner for the Azzaro family. Then he exhaled slowly, some of the tension leaving his body.
"I need you to stay in control. Rhea does too." I softened my touch, but not my voice. "Can you do that for me?"
He nodded once decisively. "Yes, Goddess."
"Good boy." I rewarded him with a deep kiss, claiming his mouth until I felt him surrender to it, his hands remaining obediently at his sides even as shoulders slacked, head falling back, lips parting on a shuddered exhale.
Sweat gleamed across the sculpted planes of his chest, catching the low light as he trembled beneath my touch.
No doubt the metal cage between his legs strained against its confines, His arousal was evident despite the restriction, a physical manifestation of the beautiful contradiction he embodied: power willingly leashed.
When I pulled back, his eyes had darkened with desire, the rage temporarily submerged beneath need. Perfect. I could work with that.
"We're going back out there," I told him, adjusting his mask. "You'll kneel beside me and listen. Gather every detail. And when we leave, we will figure out what our next steps are."
"And then?" The question carried all his furious intent.
I traced the outline of the owl tattoo on his side. "Then, we use what we know to save her."
Returning to the main floor, I spotted the district attorney in one corner, his gaze following me with recognition.
One of my regular clients, he enjoyed being humiliated by powerful women—a secret that would end his career if it was ever leaked.
I acknowledged him with a slight nod before choosing a new vantage point, one that gave us a clear view of Juarez's lieutenant while keeping us partially obscured.
I guided Gavriel to kneel at my feet, positioning him so his back was to the room. No one would suspect we were gathering intelligence for a rescue operation.
Juarez's goon had moved to the bar, now speaking with a man I recognized as one of Don Azzaro's security team. Their voices carried just enough for us to catch fragments.
". . . transportation arranged for Friday morning . . ."
". . . private ceremony at the estate . . ."
". . . Don Azzaro insists on tradition . . ."
Gavriel remained perfectly still beside me, only the slight tremor in his shoulders betraying his emotional state. I ran my fingers through his hair, both for comfort and as a reminder of his role.
I wondered why they felt so comfortable talking openly about this. Sure there were NDA’s signed to be in here, even on a guest pass, but that didn’t extend to something like this.
"The girl has disappeared though," Azzaro's man said, his voice dropping lower.
“You’ve lost her?”
“Not exactly. We will have her there, even if we have to sedate her.”
The lieutenant shrugged. "Don Juarez finds his women more entertaining when they fight back. Just make sure you don’t give her so much that he can’t enjoy his new wife on the way back to San Diego."
My own anger flared, hot and sharp. Rhea didn’t deserve this. The thought of her drugged and terrified made something primal rise within me.
"We have the timeline now," I whispered to Gavriel, bending down as if to issue an intimate command.
He turned his head slightly, looking up at me with such raw trust that it stole my breath. "What if that’s too long?"
A valid concern. I considered our options, mentally cataloging resources, contacts, and escape routes. "We need to leave. Figure out our next steps."
Standing, I tugged gently on his chain. "Up, pet. We're going home."
As we made our way toward the exit, I spotted Senator Michaels entering with his latest mistress.
His eyes widened slightly when he saw me—another client who paid handsomely for my discretion and skill with a whip.
I filed the information of him publicly being out without his wife.
The political connections might prove useful if things went sideways.
Outside, the night air hit us like a physical shock after the heated interior of the club. I kept Gavriel close as we walked to my car, the silver chain still connecting us.
"Friday morning," he said once we were inside, his voice tight with urgency. "We have to keep her hidden until then."
I started the engine, pulling smoothly into traffic. "Which means we move to my secret spot Thursday night."
"The documents won't be ready."
"Don’t worry, Pretty Boy. No one but me knows this location." I navigated through the city streets, mind racing through contingencies. "Your father's estate has how many guards at night?"
"Twelve on rotation. Four at the main house, two at the perimeter gates, the rest patrolling the grounds."
I nodded, formulating a plan. "And how many would die for you?"
Gavriel was silent for a long moment. "I don’t know. Harley would actively help. Maybe eight?"
"That's not going to be enough," I said, reaching across to squeeze his thigh. "We'll need a distraction, something big enough to pull security away from your father’s study."
His eyebrows pinched together. “That’s going to have to be some distraction. What are you thinking?”
I shook my head. A plan was forming in my head that would give us both the retribution that we needed.
“Can you ensure that Juarez and your father are at the same place on Friday? Two birds, one stone. Otherwise, is there somewhere they would both be out in public? Though I would like to handle this. . . privately.”
"I can arrange that." His voice had shifted, hardened into something cold and precise. The voice of the Owl’s Talon, not my submissive.
I glanced at him, taking in the transformation. With the mask removed and the leash hanging loosely from his wrist, there was nothing submissive about him now. This was the man who had executed enemies of the Azzaro family without hesitation, who had earned his reputation through blood and terror.
And yet, he had knelt for me. Had surrendered control to me. Had trusted me with his sister's life.
"We'll save her," I promised, turning onto the highway that would take us back to my house. "But first, we need to call Rico. See where we are on those documents."
Gavriel nodded, already reaching for his phone. As he made the call, I focused on driving, my mind continuing to map out escape routes and safe houses.
Whatever happened next, we'd face it together—the domme and her deadly submissive, playing a game where the stakes were measured in lives, not pleasure.