Chapter 9
CHAPTER 9
Layla
I smoothed my hands over the curves of my hips, studying my reflection in the full-length mirror. The woman staring back at me was a stranger. Regal, dangerous, powerful, but so fucking broken. When did I become this sad shell of my former self? Surely this wasn’t the same bad bitch that was hunting flesh dealers only a handful months ago.
My hair fell in loose waves around my face, still damp from the shower where I'd scrubbed away the last traces of Raul's blood. The memory of his final moments flashed through my mind—the gratitude in his eyes, the soft exhale as the light faded from them. I pushed the thoughts away, locking them in that dark place inside me where I kept all my weakness hidden.
As I reached for my favorite stilettos, the sharp trill of my cell phone cut through the silence. I froze, my heart suddenly pounding against my ribs. Only a handful of people had this number, and most of them were already in the villa.
With trembling fingers, I picked up the phone. The screen showed an unknown number, but deep in my gut, I knew who it was.
I answered, my voice steady despite the storm of emotions roiling inside me. "Gage."
There was a moment of silence on the other end, then his familiar voice. "Layla."
Just hearing him say my name sent a jolt through my system, a toxic mix of rage and longing that left me breathless. I gripped the phone tighter, fighting the urge to hurl it across the room.
"What do you want?" I snarled, pacing the length of my bedroom. The plush carpet muffled my footsteps, the only sound the rapid pounding of my heart.
“I needed to hear your voice…” He was whispering, as if maybe there was someone else nearby.
"Save it," I snapped, but there was no heat behind it. Only deadness. "I'm not interested in more of your lies. I told you a long time ago, that if you fell for me, I would break your heart. But you know what? I guess I was the fucking idiot, because I fell for you while you pretended to want me, and look where that got us.”
Gage's breath caught audibly on the other end of the line. When he spoke again, his voice was thick. "I never pretended to love you. Never. It started as just a job, yeah, but it became so much more than that."
I wanted to hang up, to cut off his words before they could worm their way into my heart. But something in his voice kept me listening.
"Do you know how many missions I botched?" Gage continued, his words tumbling out in a rush. "How many times have I had to make excuses to my superiors because I couldn't bring myself to betray you and Raul?"
He paused, taking a shaky breath. "There was the arms shipment to Venezuela. I was supposed to tip off the Coast Guard, but I 'accidentally' gave them the wrong coordinates. Then the meeting with the Russian mob in Miami. I swapped out the surveillance equipment for faulty gear so we wouldn't get any usable intel."
My mind reeled as he listed incident after incident, each one a moment where he'd chosen loyalty to us over his duty as an agent.
"The night of the charity gala," Gage said softly. "Remember? You wore that red dress that made you look like a goddess. We danced, and for a moment, it was like the rest of the world didn't exist. That night, I was supposed to plant a bug in Raul's office. But I couldn't do it. I danced with you instead. For those few reckless fucking moments, nothing else mattered. Not my mission, not the agency, nothing but you."
We’d fucked in a coat closet that night. It was the first time, and after that we couldn’t stop.
"There were so many times, Layla. The weapons shipment to Colombia last year—I was meant to tip off the local authorities, but I 'accidentally' gave them the wrong time. The glass lab in Juarez we were supposed to check in on, I corrupted the data before sending it back to headquarters?—”
“Enough!” I snapped, my chest heaving with every breath, like I suddenly couldn’t get enough air. What he was saying was insane. “Fuck you so much, Gage. Just—fuck you!”
I didn’t want to cry. I wouldn’t cry.
"I'm going to make this right," he said desperately. "I'll prove to you that what we had was fucking real. That it still is real."
A bitter laugh escaped my lips. "You can’t undo the lies, Gage. It doesn’t work like that. You’re a narc and I’m a boss. The two don’t mesh. It’s not written in the fucking stars for us. The fact that I let you get away once already shows I have too many weaknesses."
He growled and something crashed over the line, as if he’d thrown something at a wall. "No more lies. I'm done with all of it —the agency, the undercover work, all of it. I've already handed in my resignation."
My eyes flew open in shock. "You what?"
"You heard me. I'm out. For good. And I'm coming back to you, Lala. Even if you have to put a bullet hole in my heart, at least bury me somewhere close to wherever you are."
An hour later, I stood in Raul's empty bedroom, my face a mask of cold detachment. The sheets had been stripped, the medical equipment removed. Only the lingering scent of antiseptic and death remained.
I watched silently as two men carefully wrapped Raul's body in a crisp white sheet. Their movements were reverent, almost tender, as they lifted him onto a stretcher. Vinny supervised, his usually impassive face etched with grief.
"Take him to Dr. Reyes," I instructed. "Tell her to prepare him for a viewing in one week."
Vinny nodded, his eyes meeting mine briefly. I saw a flicker of uncertainty there, quickly masked. Good. Let them wonder. Let them fear what comes next.
"Is it done?” I asked him.
Vinny didn’t reply with words, only a curt nod.
As Raul's body was carried away, I turned to the ornate mirror hanging on the wall. My reflection stared back at me. The ruby ring glinted on my finger, a brand new reminder of the power I now wielded. I straightened my shoulders. My black dress was tight, and my heels were sky high. My lips were blood red and my eyes were lifeless.
I turned away from the mirror, heels clicking sharply against the floor as I strode out of Raul's room. The hallways of the villa seemed longer, emptier now. Shadows clung to every corner, as if the very walls mourned their master's passing.
My fingers traced the walls as I descended the grand staircase, the same path I'd walked countless times before. But now, each step felt weighted with new purpose, new responsibility.
I made my way through the winding corridors of the lower level, the air growing cooler and damper with each step. The muffled sounds of the villa above faded away, replaced by an oppressive silence broken only by the staccato rhythm of my heels.
I reached the white room, Tomasso holding the door open for me, for once without saying a damn word. The stark fluorescent lighting assaulted my eyes as I entered, a deliberate design choice to disorient and unsettle. The room lived up to its name—clinical white walls, white tile floor, white ceiling. No windows, no decoration. Only the dark red stains on the floor drain hinted at the room's true purpose.
In the center of the room, Carlos sat strapped to a metal chair, his once-pristine suit torn and bloodied. His head lolled to the side, greasy hair falling across his bruised face. The sight of him, broken and pathetic, sent a thrill of savage satisfaction through me.
Alex, Sarge, and River stood in a loose semi-circle around Carlos, their faces grim masks of controlled violence. Each of them was shirtless and barefoot, making for an easier cleanup and disposal if this got too messy. It was an effort to avert my eyes from the tattoos and muscles.
Alex's eyes blazed as he glared at his father. Sarge's massive arms were crossed over his chest, biceps bulging, scars left from two bullet wounds were healed over on his chest. And River—River moved to prowl the perimeter of the room like a caged beast, his single eye never leaving Carlos's slumped form.
Carlos stirred as I approached, his eyes slowly focusing on me. I saw the moment recognition dawned, followed quickly by confusion and then naked fear. His gaze darted frantically around the room, taking in the grim faces of my companions before settling back on me.
I stopped directly in front of him, close enough that he had to crane his neck to look up at me. I said nothing, letting the silence stretch taut between us like a rubber band ready to snap.
Carlos licked his cracked lips, his voice a hoarse whisper when he finally spoke. "Where's Raul?"
I remained silent, my face impassive as I stared down at him. Slowly, deliberately, I raised my hand, watching as his eyes locked onto the ornate ring glinting on my finger. The blood-red ruby caught the harsh fluorescent light, seeming to glow with an inner fire.
The change in Carlos was instantaneous and visceral. His face flushed an ugly, mottled red, the veins in his neck bulging as rage contorted his features. He thrashed against his restraints, spittle flying from his lips as he snarled.
"That ring belongs to me!" he roared, his voice cracking with fury and desperation. "I am Raul's blood! His true heir! You fucking bitch, you have no right?—"
I didn't let him finish. My hand lashed out with lightning speed, the heavy ruby ring connecting with Carlos's cheek in a sickening crunch. The impact split his skin open, blood immediately welling up and trickling down his face. The metallic scent filled the air, mingling with the antiseptic smell of the white room.
Carlos's head snapped to the side from the force of the blow, a strangled cry escaping his lips. His eyes went wide with shock and pain, pupils dilating as he struggled to focus. A thin line of crimson spittle dribbled from the corner of his mouth, staining his already filthy shirt.
The ring left a deep gash across his cheekbone, the edges ragged and angry. I could see a glint of white where the bone was exposed beneath torn flesh. The ruby gleamed wetly, now slick with Carlos's blood—a fitting christening I supposed.
Behind me, I heard Alex's sharp intake of breath, followed by River's low, approving growl. Sarge remained silent, but I could feel the weight of his steady gaze on my back. The tension in the room ratcheted up another notch, the air practically crackling with barely contained violence.
He spat blood, his teeth crimson as he slurred— “You kill me, and my guys have the go ahead to execute your mother.”
My blood ran cold. "You don't know anything about my mother."
Carlos's split lips curved into a bloody grin. "Oh, but I do. Claudia Ro?u, living in a quaint little house in Albuquerque. Teaching second grade at Jefferson Elementary School. Such a kind woman, always baking cookies for the neighborhood kids."
With deliberate slowness, I turned away from Carlos and walked to the far wall. There, almost invisible unless you knew exactly where to look, was a small indent. I pressed my palm against it, feeling the hidden mechanism whir to life.
A section of the stark white wall slid open silently, revealing a drawer lined with pink velvet. Inside lay an array of tools, each one custom-made to my exact specifications. The sight of them sent a familiar thrill through me, a mixture of anticipation and dark pleasure.
I ran my fingers lovingly over the implements, each one a work of art in its own right. Scalpels with blades so sharp they could split a hair lengthwise, their handles inlaid with diamonds. Pliers of various sizes, some designed for delicate work on fingers and toes, others sturdy enough to crack ribs. A delicate pair of rose-gold forceps winked at me, tiny diamonds embedded in the handles catching the harsh fluorescent light. Beside them lay a matching set of curved hooks.
“Holy shit—” Alex hissed. “I’ve ever been so fucking turned on.”
I selected a pair of delicate forceps, their rose-gold handles cool against my palm. Diamonds winked at me as I turned back to Carlos, a smile playing at the corners of my lips.
"Now then," I purred, sauntering back towards him. "Let's have a little chat about those trucks at the docks, shall we? I'm simply dying to know more about your extracurricular activities."
Carlos's eyes widened, darting between my face and the forceps in my hand. Sweat beaded on his brow, mingling with the blood still oozing from the gash on his cheek.
"I don't know what you're talking about," he stammered, his bravado crumbling.
I tsked , shaking my head in mock disappointment. "Oh Carlos, lying is so unbecoming. And here I thought we were going to have an honest conversation." With exaggerated care, I used the forceps to pluck at a loose thread on his sleeve. "Those girls in the trucks—they weren't exactly our usual cargo, were they? A bit young for the clubs, I'd wager."
Carlos flinched as I leaned in close, my breath hot against his ear. "Tell me, did you have a favorite? A pretty little thing you were keeping for yourself, perhaps?"
"You're insane," Carlos spat, but I could hear the tremor in his voice.
I laughed. "Insane? Oh no, Uncle. I'm perfectly sane. You, on the other hand..." I trailed off, tapping the forceps against my chin thoughtfully. "Well, it takes a special kind of sicko to buy and sell little girls, doesn't it?"
Carlos's face drained of color, his eyes darting frantically around the room. I could practically see the gears turning in his head as he searched for a way out.
"You have no proof," he blustered, but his voice lacked conviction.
I leaned in close, my lips brushing his ear. "Don't I? Those shipping manifests make for some very interesting reading. All those crates of Raul’s glass your best buddy Quincy was supposed to be ferrying? Funny how they never seemed to make it to any of our usual distribution centers."
Carlos swallowed hard, Adam's apple bobbing. A bead of sweat trickled down his temple, cutting a path through the drying blood on his cheek.
"It's not what you think," he stammered. "I was just trying to diversify our income streams. Expand into new markets."
"New markets?" I echoed, raising an eyebrow. "Is that what we're calling it now? Tell me, Carlos, how exactly does one 'diversify' with terrified children locked in shipping containers?"
Carlos's face contorted with rage. "You bitch," he snarled. "You have no idea what you're dealing with. I have powerful friends—connections you can't even imagine. You think you can just waltz in here and take over? You're nothing but Raul's little pet project, a stray dog he picked up off the streets!"
I smiled coldly, trailing the forceps down his cheek. "Unfortunately for you, I'm so much more than that. I'm the woman who's going to make you beg for death before this night is over."
Without warning, I plunged the forceps into his left nostril. Carlos screamed, the sound high and piercing as I twisted the metal implement. Blood gushed from his nose, staining his shirt crimson.
"Now then," I purred, ignoring his agonized wails. "Let's try this again. Tell me about those trucks at the docks. And Carlos?" I leaned in close, my lips brushing his ear. "If you lie to me again, I'll rip your fucking nose off."
Carlos sobbed, snot and blood bubbling from his nostrils. "Please," he whimpered. "I'll tell you everything. Just—just stop."
I twisted the forceps again, eliciting another shriek. "I'm listening."
His eyes flitted behind me frantically. “My son, are you going to let this continue?”
Alex stepped forward and grabbed his father's chin roughly, forcing Carlos to meet his gaze. “You lost the right to call me son when you started selling kids. If it were you, I’d give her all the information she wants. She’s playing right now, but you won’t like it when my queen gets really pissed off.”
Carlos sputtered as Alex stepped back, and despite my grief, my rage and my adrenaline, every fiber of my being wanted to mount and fuck Alex into oblivion right here, right now.
A feral grin spread across my face as I turned back to Carlos. His eyes darted between Alex and me, the last shreds of hope dying as he realized there would be no mercy here.
"Now then," I purred, trailing the bloody forceps down his cheek. "Let's start at the beginning, shall we? I want to know how long you’ve been going behind your brother’s back. How long were you planning to betray Raul? And Carlos? If I think you're holding anything back, I'll start removing body parts. Slowly."
Thirty minutes later, the pristine white room had been transformed into a grisly abstract canvas. Blood spattered the walls and pooled on the tile floor, the metallic scent heavy in the air. Carlos slumped in the chair, his once-immaculate suit now shredded and soaked crimson.
Where his left hand had once been, only a mangled stump remained. Severed fingers lay scattered on the floor like discarded cigarette butts, congealing blood forming macabre halos around them. His right eye socket gaped empty, trailing viscous fluid down his cheek to mingle with the blood from his mutilated nose.
I stood before him, my black dress splattered with arterial spray. The ruby ring glinted wickedly on my finger, now slick with Carlos's blood. In my hand, I held a wickedly curved filleting knife, its blade stained dark red.
"I have to admit, Carlos," I purred, wiping the blade clean on his sleeve, "I'm impressed by your stubbornness. Most men would have broken long ago."
Carlos lifted his head with visible effort, his remaining eye unfocused and glassy with pain. "You can't kill me," he slurred, blood bubbling at the corners of his mouth. "My men have the order to execute your precious mother if anything happens to me."
I tsked , shaking my head in mock disappointment. "You still don't get it, do you? Your men are already dead." Carlos's eye widened in disbelief. I pulled back, savoring the dawning horror on his mutilated face."That's right, Uncle. While you've been enjoying our hospitality, my enforcers have been busy. Your safe houses? Raided. Your lieutenants? Eliminated. And those men you sent to watch my mother?" I paused, letting the tension build. "Well, let's just say they won't be reporting back."
A choked sob escaped Carlos's throat, a sound of utter despair. I could see the last shreds of his defiance crumbling away, leaving nothing but a broken, pathetic shell of a man.
"You see, Carlos," I purred, trailing the tip of the knife along his jawline, "I learned from the best. Raul taught me to always be three steps ahead, to anticipate every possible outcome. Did you really think I'd let you anywhere near my mother?"
Vinny and about a dozen of my enforcers had taken care of Carlos’s guys, thanks to Alex’s intel he managed to con out of his father’s men. It was pathetic, actually, how easily the operation was shut down. Carlos was getting rusty in his old age.
Carlos slumped in his restraints, defeat written in every line of his battered body. "What—what do you want from me?" he whispered, his voice barely audible.
"It's not about what I want anymore," I purred. "This is for all those girls you sold, for the families you destroyed, for betraying Raul's trust. I considered killing you right here," I mused, twirling the knife between my fingers. "Or locking you in here with only your single brain cell to keep you company. But that would be too merciful. No, I think it's time we put those shipping containers of yours to good use."
Carlos's remaining eye widened in horror as understanding dawned. A pathetic whimper escaped his throat, the sound music to my ears.
"That's right, Uncle," I purred, straightening up. "You're going to experience firsthand what those poor girls went through. Locked away in the dark, slowly starving, wondering if anyone will ever come for you."
I turned to Alex, who had been watching with cold detachment. "Have the guys at the docks prepare one of the containers. Make sure it's airtight."
Alex nodded, a cruel smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "With pleasure, baby girl."
As Alex left to carry out my orders, I turned back to Carlos. Tears streamed from his one good eye, mingling with the blood on his cheeks.
"Please," he sobbed, all pretense of dignity abandoned. "I'll do anything. Just kill me now. Don't put me in there."
I cupped his cheek, letting my nails sink into his pockmarked skin. “I’m afraid I’m fresh out of fucks to give you.”
Carlos sobbed pathetically as I stepped back, his pleas falling on deaf ears. I turned to Sarge and River, who had remained silent observers throughout the interrogation.
"Get him ready for transport," I ordered. "And make sure he's secured tightly. I don't want him to have any chance of escape."
Sarge nodded grimly, moving forward to begin untying Carlos from the chair. River's eye gleamed with dark satisfaction as he produced a set of handcuffs. The door opened and Tomasso came in, with Effren and two more guys on their heels.
As they worked, I made my way to a small sink in the corner of the room. The water ran pink as I washed Carlos's blood from my hands, the ruby ring glinting wickedly under the harsh fluorescent lights.
I caught my reflection in the small mirror above the sink. My face was spattered with blood, my eyes cold and hard. For a moment, I barely recognized myself. Then I smiled, baring my teeth in a feral grin. This was who I was now—Raul's chosen successor, the new queen of his empire.