Chapter Twenty-Four
I WALKED INTO the war room like I was steppin’ into judgment. Felt the weight of it in my bones.
Devil and my brothers were already there, circled around the scarred oak table. Smoke hung heavy in the air, mixing with silence thick enough to choke on. Arms crossed. Eyes locked on me the second I shut the door behind me.
They knew I had somethin’ to say. And if you speak in the war room, it better be worth hearin’.
I pulled out the chair across from Devil and sat slow, steadyin’ my breath. Then I got to it.
“Her name’s Sable. She’s runnin’ from Gabrial Lopez.”
The name cracked through the room like a whip. Chairs shifted. Brows lifted. The air itself tightened.
“She was born into a cult, calls themselves The Children of the Flame. Don’t think backwoods holy rollers, think a militia. Armed guards. Fenced in. Indoctrination from birth. And Gabrial?” My jaw clenched. “He’s not just their prophet. He’s the devil wearin’ a fuckin’ halo.”
A chorus of curses erupted. Fists hit the table.
Devil’s jaw ticked once, sharp. “Gabrial Lopez,” he repeated, gravel in his tone. “As in the cartel boss tied to Dragon Fire?”
“Yeah,” I said. “That Gabrial.”
Mystic leaned back in his chair, arms folded across his chest. “Son of a bitch.”
“He took her when she was just a kid,” I went on. “Groomed her. Called her chosen. Kept her locked away like a possession. All while tradin’ women and kids like cattle. Preachin’ fire and salvation with blood on his hands. The man’s a monster.”
Devil leaned forward, elbows on the table, eyes hard as stone. “And the kids?”
“Zara’s hers. Gabrial’s by blood. Malik too, but from another woman, and that one tried to kill Sable. Gabrial burned her alive, made ‘em watch.” I let that sink in. “She’s been raisin’ both ever since. They got out together. Barely.”
The room went still.
“Jesus,” Chain muttered.
“You believe all this?” Devil’s face was more curious than combative. “Sure this isn’t some story she’s feeding you?”
I met his stare. Didn’t blink. “I believe her. I’ve seen the scars, some you don’t see on skin. The way she walks. The way she don’t close her eyes all the way at night. That ain’t somethin’ you make up. I know the look of someone runnin’ from hell.”
Mystic tilted his head, unreadable. “And you’re standin’ behind her? If this turns into war, you ready for that?”
“I already am.”
That answer settled heavy over the table, like smoke that wouldn’t clear.
Devil’s eyes narrowed. “You claiming her in the eyes of this club?”
The weight of it hit. Claimin’ wasn’t about sex or romance. It was law. It meant she was under my patch. My responsibility. My blood, if it came to that.
Chain leaned in, his face dead serious. “If we’re gonna put The Devil’s House against a cartel and a cult, it sure as hell ain’t for somebody halfway in.”
I didn’t waver. “I am. I claim her.”
Devil studied me, long and cold, then gave a slow nod. The kind that carried judgment and mercy all at once.
“Alright. If Gabrial comes, he’s gonna find steel, not fear. But we don’t risk this club without a plan. She stays in that house. Off the radar. Quiet.”
“Understood,” I said.
He turned to Gatsby. “Dig up everything on Gabrial Lopez. His fronts, his movements, this Children of the Flame. I want to know what we’re facing before it gets here.”
“Already on it,” Gatsby said, scratchin’ notes in that leather journal he never let go of.
Devil’s eyes cut back to me. “You brought her in. That makes her yours to protect.”
“She already was,” I said.
Mystic grunted. “Guess you’re bleedin’ for this one.”
“Damn right I am.”
Chain smirked. “Shit, I gotta see her. Must be one hell of a woman to tie down your whorin’ ass.”
I flipped him off. “Talkin’ big for a man who can’t remember half the names he’s fucked.”
“You jealous, sweetheart?”
“Both of you shut it,” Devil snapped, standing. “This isn’t a joke. We’re in deep, and we don’t know how far this goes.”
I straightened. “I’ll keep her outta sight.”
“You make damn sure you do,” Devil said. “We’re not handing her back. But we aren’t giving Gabrial a reason to come knocking either.”
He walked out first, the rest followin’. Boots hittin’ the floor like drumbeats.
I sat there a beat longer, feelin’ the weight settle heavier on my shoulders. Didn’t second-guess it though. I was all in.
The first time I saw her standin’ by that broke-down car, I knew. Fate wasn’t somethin’ I believed in—but if it was, it looked a hell of a lot like Sable.
I pushed back from the table and grabbed my keys. Figured I’d hit the store, stock the place, maybe grab some toys for Zara and a TV for Malik. Somethin’ to make that upstairs room feel less like a safehouse, and more like a home.
Devil’s voice cut loud from the doorway. He had turned around and came back into the room.
“Thunder. Stay a minute.”
The others glanced back, but Devil gave ’em one look and they kept movin’. The door shut, and it was just us.
Devil didn’t sit. Just stood there, hands braced on the back of his chair, eyes burnin’ through me.
“You claim her, you stand by her,” he said, quiet but steady. “That means when the fire comes—and it will—you don’t flinch, you don’t falter. You bleed before she does.”
“I know,” I said. And I did. Every word of it.
He studied me for a long beat, jaw tight. Then his voice dropped lower. “Don’t waste what you’ve been given, brother. You don’t know how fast it can be taken.”
Somethin’ passed through his eyes then. Pain. Buried deep, but still there, like an old wound that never healed right.
I held his stare. Didn’t ask. Wouldn’t. Devil’s ghosts were his to carry.
He gave the faintest nod, the kind that sealed it. “Alright. She’s yours to protect. That makes her ours too. Don’t forget that.”
Then he turned, boots hittin’ the floor slow, and left me in the smoke and silence.
***
THE BOX SAID easy setup, but it was lyin’. Either that, or I’d already forgotten how much of a pain in the ass these flatscreens were, especially with a Ten-year-old starin’ holes through my skull like I was defusin’ a bomb instead of hookin’ up a damn TV.
Malik sat on the edge of the couch, elbows on his knees, watchin’ every move I made. Kid hadn’t said much, but he hadn’t looked away either. His eyes—dark, too damn grown for his age—tracked each cable I connected like it meant somethin’.
And maybe to him, it did.
“You ever watched TV before?” I asked, keepin’ my voice easy as I slid the HDMI into place.
He shook his head once. “Wasn’t allowed.”
Figures. Gabrial probably thought entertainment was poison unless he was the one preachin’ it.
Probably told Malik that men don’t waste time with games or cartoons.
Didn’t matter that Malik was still missin’ baby teeth.
In Gabrial’s world, a kid was expected to act like a soldier—silent, sharp, and ready.
“Well,” I muttered, powering it on, “you’re in for a treat.”
The screen lit up blue and flickered to life. Malik didn’t shift much, but I saw it, the slightest change in his expression. Not a smile. Not yet. Just that flicker of curiosity, raw and honest, like he didn’t know what to expect but maybe—just maybe—he wanted to.
Behind me, I heard laughter. Soft. Musical. I turned and spotted Sable sittin’ cross-legged on the floor with Zara perched in her lap. A pile of toys, stuffed animals, a couple dolls, a light-up wand that blinked and spun, was scattered across the rug like a treasure chest had exploded.
Zara giggled, holdin’ a plastic pony in the air like it could fly.
Sable was smilin’, but it didn’t reach her eyes. Not all the way. It was the kind of smile worn thin by too many years waitin’ for joy to go sour.
Still, she was tryin’. Cradlin’ that little girl like she was spun glass. Brushin’ curls back from her forehead and whisperin’ soft nothin’s that made Zara laugh harder.
Malik glanced over. He didn’t smile, didn’t move, but his jaw twitched like he was grindin’ back somethin’ edged and bitter.
“Those toys all for her?” he asked quietly.
“Yeah,” I said, keepin’ my tone neutral. “All hers.”
He nodded, like he’d already figured that.
“I was gonna get you some too,” I added, glancin’ over at him. “Didn’t know what you liked.”
“I’m fine,” he said—too fast, too practiced.
I didn’t push. I knew that tone too well. I’d said the same words once, sittin’ in someone else’s house, tryin’ not to take up too much space. Tryin’ not to look like I needed anything.
“You’re still a kid, Malik,” I said after a beat. “Don’t gotta be a man all the time.”
His eyes flicked up to mine. Guarded. Wary.
You don’t know Father Gabrial,” he muttered. “He said playing was a distraction from destiny.”
“Yeah, well,” I said, pickin’ up the remote and scrollin’ through the channels, “he ain’t here now. I am. And I got you somethin’ I think you’ll like more than a pile of toys.”
His eyes snapped to mine, a hint of surprise breakin’ through that stone mask. “What?”
“An Xbox. It’s a video game console,” I explained, holdin’ up a few games. “You can start with these, see what you like.”
He didn’t say a word. Just kept watchin’. But then he smiled. Small, cautious, but real, and his shoulders eased, just a little.
It was a start.
I glanced back at Sable. She caught my eye this time. Her smile faded, replaced by somethin’ quieter. Grateful. Maybe a little overwhelmed. Like someone finally set down a weight she’d been carryin’ too long.
I gave her a small nod and turned back to the screen. Landed on a cartoon with bright colors and awful jokes. Somethin’ mindless. Somethin’ safe.
“Zara’s gonna love this,” I said over my shoulder.
“I think she already does,” Sable replied softly.
She wasn’t talkin’ about the show.
***
THE CARTOONS HAD long since faded into background noise, the kind that hummed without meaning but filled the silence just enough to keep the walls from pressing in.
Zara was curled up on the couch, her head tucked into Sable’s side, one small hand fisted around a doll like it might vanish if she let go. Her cheeks were flushed from laughter, lashes fluttering as she drifted into sleep, safe, warm, unaware of the weight still hangin’ in the air.
Malik lay stretched out on the rug in front of the TV, his back pressed against the base of the couch, arms crossed tight over his chest like a steel shield. He hadn’t said a word in a while, hadn’t shifted or asked for anything. Just watched, silent and still, but never relaxed.
The kid didn’t rest—he observed. His eyes flicked to every sound, every creak of the floorboards, every shadow that passed across the windowpane.
You could see it in the tension along his shoulders, the way he braced like he was waitin’ for someone to bust through the door.
Like peace was just a trap, and any second now, it’d snap closed.
I sat in the armchair across the room, boots kicked off and one elbow resting on my knee, the remote in my hand but untouched for a while now. I was watchin’ him out of the corner of my eye, not pressin’ but not ignorin’ him either.
He finally spoke, a soft murmur, “Do you think he’ll find us?”
It wasn’t the question that twisted my gut, it was the tone. No fear, no tears, just grim awareness. Not a kid askin’ about a monster under the bed, this was a soldier askin’ if the enemy had breached the perimeter.
I met his gaze without flinchin’. “I think he’ll try.”
Malik gave a small nod like he’d already figured as much, like the part where Gabrial tried wasn’t the problem, it was the part where he succeeded that mattered.
“But he won’t get past us,” I added, slow and certain. “He doesn’t get to win this time.”
Malik looked down at his hands, turning one over like he didn’t quite recognize it. They were too damn small to be carryin’ this kind of weight, but life doesn’t wait for hands to grow before it hands you a burden.
“He always wins,” he said, the words hollow but carved deep. “He always makes sure of it.”
There was somethin’ in his voice, somethin’ frayed and buried, that opened up right there in front of me. I leaned forward, both elbows resting on my knees.
“Not this time,” I said. “Not if I’ve got anything to say about it.”
Silence stretched between us, not heavy, not awkward, just long enough for that truth to settle into the cracks.
Behind me, the couch creaked as Sable shifted, and even without lookin’, I knew she was listenin’.
Of course she was. Every mother learns to tune into danger, even when it’s only lingerin’ in the words.
Malik leaned his head back against the couch, his gaze drifting to the ceiling like he was lookin’ beyond it.
“I used to dream about killing him,” he said, the words so soft they barely made it across the room. “And sometimes, in the dream, I’d do it. I’d hear the sound. Feel the silence after, but then I’d wake up, and he’d still be there. Standing in the door. Smiling. Telling me I had learning to do.”
He didn’t look at me when he said it, didn’t need to.
I let the quiet sit for a moment before I answered.
“Sometimes the strongest thing you can do is survive long enough to prove he doesn’t own you anymore.”
Malik didn’t say anything. But he didn’t look away either. And that? That was enough for now.
Behind me, I heard the soft whisper of breath as Sable lifted Zara into her arms. She held her tight, arms curled protectively around her little girl, like she was afraid if she let go, the world might take her, too.
At the edge of the hallway, she paused and looked back at me.
Our eyes met, and in hers, I saw somethin’ unspoken.
Thank you.
I gave her a nod, one I didn’t expect her to return, but she did, just barely, before disappearin’ into the darkened hall.
I turned my attention back to Malik.
“You ready to learn how to play that game?” I asked, my voice lighter now.
He nodded. “Yeah.”
I grinned. “I don’t like to brag, but I’m pretty good at video games.”
He hesitated. “Is it hard?”
“Nah,” I said, settlin’ deeper into the chair. “You’ll get the hang of it. I’ll show you the ropes, and then you can practice while I pretend not to be jealous of how fast you learn.”
That flicker of curiosity was back again, burnin’ low in his eyes like a spark he hadn’t let show in a long time. Like maybe this world he’d stumbled into could offer somethin’ different. Somethin’ better.
I didn’t say another word.
Sometimes, the quiet said everything.