Page 42 of The Devil In Disguise

A dark chuckle has a wave of goosebumps rolling over me. “Music to my ears, baby. When and where?”

“I’m sending you the information I have on him now. Benito has eyes on him, so he’ll send you the location. If you guys get there before I do, tie him up or secure him to the chains.”

“Got it. I’ll call Benny.” With that, he ends the call and presumably gets to hunting.

He’s good at tracking people down even without Benito’s help, so this should be a walk in the park for him. Especially since Duke isn’t hiding. Bastard likely doesn’t even expect the retribution that’s headed his way.

That dickhead not only had the audacity to disrespect her right in front of me, but he was fully ready to lay a hand on her perfect skin. He can’t say I didn’t warn him. As much as I know Amaris can handle her own, that just didn’t sit right with me.

At all.

On my ride to the warehouse, my thoughts alternate between Duke’s demise and other ways I can see the bright smile on Amaris’ face. Maybe I’ll gift her his severed hand that dared to try and strike her so she’ll truly know that I will slay all her dragons, with or without her by my side—scratch that, it might scare her off. This is what I was made for, though, isn’t it? Albeit, this is the first time it feels right. The first time I crave the bloodshed and agony that awaits me.

The van is already parked out front when I arrive; the fucker works fast. Halfway to the door, I slow my steps to a stop when a purple smile plastered onto a mask—similar to the one I usually wear—stands at the entrance and then meets me halfway.

“Why do we need to wear these masks? I want to feel, see, and smell everything I’m doing to the sack of shit in all its glory.” Dario’s hoarse voice filters through the mask. While his face is concealed, I couldn’t hide the distaste from my features even if I tried.

“Relax, bloodhound. You can take it off now. It was just so the cameras don’t pick up your faces on this side of town with that asshat. I don’t need anyone sniffing around here or looking for him,” I respond coolly.

Swiftly removing the mask from his face, he shakes his hair out—it isn’t much longer than mine, I have no idea why he does that. “Good. I’m all for masks, but not these, that shit gets hot. It’s only fun when the situation calls for it. Or if there’s role-play involved,” he says with a wink.

“Is he conscious?” I push forward, moving towards the open door.

“I have two guys in there chaining him up to the hoist. He’ll be up soon if he isn’t already. I didn’t give him much, he must be the easiest target I’ve had.” Dario snorts.

Noticing he’s walking back to the van, my confusion makes me pause, but I think better of asking and just saunter inside. He’ll be back.

The men inside are still masked, each of us wearing all-black clothing. One guy is securing the last chain to a senseless Duke’s ankle while the other is at the table laying out different weapons. It doesn’t take long for Dario to stroll inside carrying a speaker in one hand and some sort of knife in the other.

He sets both items onto the table casually and I’ve never seen that thing in my life. Upon closer inspection, I notice that it’s a set of brass knuckles with sharp spikes protruding out the knobs and each side ends with a karambit-style blade. My attention bounces between the contraption and Dario’s cheeky grin. A quick scan of the room confirms that the other guys are as curious as I am.

“Dude, what the fuck is that bear claw thing?” The smirk that slips out is beyond my control. This crazy motherfucker never fails to surprise me.

“You like it? I named it Raven. Kinda looks like one, right? Just had the wings sharpened this morning.”

For what?

“I just called you less than an hour ago,” I deadpan.

“You never know.” He shrugs. “Look at the odds, I get to put it to use today anyway. It worked out.”

Glancing at the tattoo he has of a raven spanning the length of his forearm and then back at the weapon, I can see the similarity.

An uncomfortable groan along with the light sound of chains rattling pulls all of our attention away from the table and to the owner of the sound.

Show time.

“What the hell?” Duke’s groggy voice matches his confused, disorientated state.

He blinks hard a few times until the realization hits him that he can’t move. We quietly move closer to him, waiting for him to look up and spot us. He furrows his brows at the chains holding him in place as he tries to free himself. The fear must give him an energy boost, because his wide eyes shoot up searching for our faces frantically.

“What’s going on?” he whines, eyes squinting to adjust to the lighting.

Dario laughs, turning to sharpen the hunter’s knife he pulled out of his pocket. Duke struggles to focus his gaze on my advancing form.

My voice is a low rumble when I finally speak. “You did a stupid, stupid thing.”

Whether my voice makes him realize who I am or his eyes finally start working properly, his ashen expression gives him away. The fear emanating from his pores is spreading through the room, filling me with a sense of enthusiastic anticipation.

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