Chapter Thirty-One
XADEN
We're ten minutes from the house where Toren is staying when the flashing lights appear in my rear-view mirror.
“Fuck,” Andrade mutters, twisting to look behind us.
But these aren't cop cars.
Black SUVs. Government plates. Three of them boxing us in from behind and the sides.
“Boss—” Ken's voice crackles through the radio from the car behind us.
“I see them,” I cut him off. “Don't stop. Keep moving.”
I press harder on the accelerator, but two SUVs swerve in front of me, forcing me to either hit them or brake.
I brake, my hands white-knuckled on the steering wheel.
“Fuck!” I slam my fist against the dashboard. “Fuck!”
The SUVs surround us—front, back, sides. Professional. Coordinated. A dozen armed agents emerge, tactical gear, weapons drawn and pointed directly at our vehicles.
And stepping out of the lead vehicle, looking like she owns the goddamn world, is none other than the cunt herself, Deputy Director Fiona Williams.
“Don't do anything,” I order through gritted teeth. “Not yet.”
One of the agents approaches my window, tapping on it with the barrel of his weapon.
I don't roll it down.
“Mr. Devlin!” Fiona's voice carries across the distance. “Let's not make this more difficult than it needs to be. Step out of the vehicle. Now.”
“Go fuck yourself!” I shout back.
“I have fifty agents surrounding you,” she calls out. “You have what… eight men? Nine? The math isn't in your favor.”
“Then you better hope your aim is good, cunt,” I snarl. “Because I'm not getting out of this fucking car.”
I need to get to Toren. Need to warn her. Need to—
The window shatters.
The cunt reaches through and unlocks the door, yanking it open. Hands grab me, pulling me out of the vehicle as I fight against them.
“Get your fucking hands off me!” I roar, throwing an elbow that connects with someone's face. I hear the crunch of bone and cartilage, feel the satisfying spray of blood.
“Boss!” Andrade's door flies open and I hear him struggling.
Behind us, Ken, Gauge, and Johnson are being dragged from their vehicle, guns pointed at their heads.
“Stand down!” Fiona orders. “Stand down or I will authorize lethal force!”
“Xaden!” Ken shouts, and I see him trying to reach me, but three agents slam him against the hood of the car.
I'm fighting—I'm fighting with everything I have—but there are too many of them. One agent gets his arm around my throat while two others grab my arms, wrenching them behind my back.
“You're making a mistake,” I snarl at Fiona as she approaches. “A fatal fucking mistake.”
“Am I?” she asks calmly.
“You think you can detain me? Threaten my men?” I bare my teeth at her. “I will burn your entire operation to the ground. I will find everyone you've ever cared about and I will make them suffer before I kill them. You hearing me, bitch?”
She nods to her agents.
Cold metal snaps around my wrists.
Handcuffs.
“Bold words from a man in restraints,” Fiona observes.
“These restraints won't last forever,” I promise her. “And when I get out—and I will get out—you're the first person I'm coming for.”
She turns to her agents. “Put him in the vehicle. If he resists, tase him.”
“You don't have the balls—”
Pain explodes through my body as electricity courses through my nervous system. I drop to my knees, muscles seizing, unable to do anything but endure the agony.
When it stops, I'm gasping, but the rage hasn't diminished.
“Get him up,” Fiona orders.
They haul me to my feet and start dragging me toward the SUV.
“This changes nothing,” I spit at her. “You're a dead woman walking.”
“Xaden!” That's Ken again, and I see him struggling against four agents. Blood streams from his nose where one of them hit him. “Let him go!”
“Stand down!” one of the agents shouts, pressing a gun to Ken's temple.
“Stand the fuck down!” I roar at my men. “That's a goddamn order! Don't give this cunt the satisfaction!”
Ken's face contorts with fury and helplessness, but he stops struggling.
They're loading me into the SUV when I hear the car door open behind us.
“What the fuck do you think you're doing?”
Cas.
I twist to see him trying to climb out of the vehicle, his casted leg making it awkward, crutches clattering.
“Cas, get back in the fucking car,” I order.
But he ignores me, hobbling forward on his crutches, his face a mask of rage.
“You think you can just take him?” Cas snarls at Fiona. “You stupid bitch—”
“Caspian Vought,” Fiona says, and something shifts in her expression. A smile that makes my skin crawl. “I was hoping you'd make an appearance.”
“Fuck you, Fiona,” Cas spits.
“Such hostility,” she tsks. “And here I thought we were making progress in our arrangement.”
“Cas, get back in the fucking car!” I shout, but it's too late.
Agents swarm him, knocking the crutches away, and he goes down hard. They haul him up, ignoring his grunt of pain as his casted leg drags.
“Careful with that leg,” Fiona says mockingly. “Wouldn't want to damage such a valuable asset.”
They cuff him and drag him toward the same SUV they're loading me into.
“Let them go!” Andrade roars, trying to break free, but an agent slams the butt of a rifle into his stomach. He doubles over, gasping.
“Anyone else want to be a hero?” Fiona asks pleasantly, surveying my men. “No? Good. You're all free to go. Tell whoever's waiting for Mr. Devlin that he's been detained for questioning. We'll release him when we're done.”
“Bullshit!” Gauge shouts.
“I can do whatever I want,” Fiona says. “I'm the Deputy Director of the CIA, and you're all associates of known criminals. So I suggest you leave before I decide to detain all of you.”
She turns away from them and climbs into the SUV where they've shoved me and Cas.
The door slams shut.
“Drive,” she orders.
The vehicle pulls away, and I watch through the tinted window as my men stand there surrounded by federal agents, helpless to do anything.
Then we turn a corner and they're gone.
I'm breathing hard, rage coursing through every vein, the handcuffs cutting into my wrists.
Beside me, Cas is in a similar state, cuffed, bloodied from the takedown, his casted leg stretched awkwardly in the cramped space.
“This is the dumbest thing you've ever done,” I tell Fiona, my voice cold and deadly. “And you've done a lot of stupid shit.”
“Have I?” she asks calmly.
“Yeah. You have.” I lean forward as much as the cuffs allow. “Because now I know exactly who to kill when I get free. And I will get free. These federal charges? They won't stick. My lawyers will have me out in forty-eight hours. And then?”
I smile, and I know it doesn't reach my eyes.
“Then I'm coming for you. And trust me, what I did to Steven Kellar will look like mercy compared to what I'm going to do to you.”
“Interesting,” Fiona says, unmoved. “Because I was under the impression you were too busy angsting over Toren Kellar to be making death threats.”
“Don't say her fucking name,” I snarl.
“Why not?” Fiona challenges. “She's the whole reason you're in this mess. The reason you've lost focus. The reason you're making mistakes.”
“The only mistake I've made is not killing you sooner,” I shoot back.
“Well, let me show you another mistake you've made,” Fiona says, opening her laptop and turning it toward us.
“I don't give a fuck about your—”
The words die in my throat.
It's surveillance footage.
The house where Toren is staying.
The timestamp shows last night.
And there, clear as day, is Toren sitting on the sofa with Carnage De Santis.
I watch as he reaches up to cup her face. Watch as his thumb strokes her cheekbone. Watch as he leans closer, his eyes dropping to her lips.
Watch as they stay frozen there, foreheads touching, in a moment so intimate it makes something in my chest crack open and bleed.
“What the fuck is this?” I demand, my voice low and dangerous.
“Evidence,” Fiona says simply. “Of what really happens when you're not around.”
I can't tear my eyes from the screen as the footage plays.
Toren's hand is on his chest. Their faces are inches apart. Another second and they would have—
But they don't.
She pulls back. Says something I can't hear. And Carnage releases her, putting distance between them.
But the damage is done.
I saw it.
“She nearly kissed him,” Fiona says conversationally. “Right there in the living room. Alex Denver's second and the girl he's been protecting. Touching. Wanting. Almost crossing a line.”
“Where did you get this?” I ask, my voice deadly quiet.
“I have surveillance on that house,” Fiona says. “Have had for weeks. I know everything that happens there. Every conversation. Every moment. Every almost-kiss.”
She leans back, watching my reaction.
“And tonight, when my people eliminate them both at that briefing, Alex Denver will know it was because of his arrogance. Because he thought he could best me.”
I go very still. “What did you just say?”
“Tonight isn't about the Kellar Cartel,” Fiona explains. “It's about revenge. Alex Denver has been operating with impunity for years. Moving product, building power, thumbing his nose at federal authority. And I'm done with it.”
She closes the laptop.
“So tonight, I'm taking away everything he's been protecting. His second. His reputation. And the little pregnant girl he sent Carnage to protect.”
The pieces click together with sickening clarity.
“You're using the briefing as cover,” I say. “Using Masen to draw everyone out.”
“Oh, Masen knows exactly what's happening,” Fiona says with a smile. “He's been quite cooperative. In exchange for my protection and control of a reorganized cartel structure, he's helping me set the perfect trap.”
My jaw clenches. “The cocksucker is working with you.”
“Has been for weeks,” she confirms. “He called that briefing specifically to gather everyone in one place. Toren. Carnage. The Denver Kings members. Everyone Alex cares about protecting.”
She leans forward.
“And when my embedded agents make their move, they'll all be eliminated. Masen gets to play the survivor—the only Kellar left standing. And I get my revenge against Alex Denver.”