Page 95 of Stiletto's Savior

“Fear,” Blackjack says, his tone grave. “He ruled through fear. Took what he wanted without a second thought. But he got what was coming to him.”

I mutter under my breath, fire igniting in my chest. “Good riddance.”

Rage was a ghost haunting our past, but the scars remain fresh.

Blackjack warns softly, his gaze piercing. “Don’t let your anger blind you.”

“Trust me, I won’t,” I reply, determination hardening my voice.

I take a sip of my whiskey, the burn igniting a fire in my chest. Dex leans closer, curiosity etched all over his youthful face. “So what happened to Rage?”

Blackjack cracks his knuckles, a grim smile creeping onto his lips. “Vegas thought they had him once.” He pauses, letting the tension build. “They tortured him with scorpions. Left him to die in the desert. Buried him up to the neck or some shit.”

“Damn.” Dex’s eyes widen. “Did he?—”

I cut in, unable to contain myself. “Wait, wasn’t he the one who got stabbed in New York?”

Blackjack nods, the humor fading. “Yeah. It turns out the one who was tortured in the desert was his identical twin brother.”

I arch an eyebrow, intrigued. “Identical?”

“Same tattoos, same everything,” Blackjack replies, shaking his head. “The club didn’t even know he existed at the time.”

Dex leans forward, eager for more. “What’s his name?”

“His name was Lunatic.” Blackjack’s voice drops, heavy with meaning. “Fitting, don’t you think?”

“Seriously?” I scoff, smirking despite the gravity of the conversation. “Lunatic? Sounds like someone from a bad horror movie.”

“That’s not the worst part,” Blackjack continues, his gaze distant. “Lunatic was married to a British billionaire heiress—Sally Bernard. The Bernard family? They own half the damn casinos in Vegas and plenty of brothels too.”

“Great,” I mutter. “More problems for us, huh?”

“More like Vegas, but yeah,” His tone sharpens. “They’ve got a brood of kids, but their eldest daughter—Seraphina? She took after her dad. Violent. Unforgiving.”

I quip, rolling my eyes. “Sounds like a real peach.”

“She and Sally have made it their personal vendetta to screw with the club,” Blackjack says, his voice low. “They’re opening brothels around our Vegas charter because they know we own Bad Bunnies.”

“Just what we need.” I lean against the bar, crossing my arms. The weight of the world feels heavier tonight. “It’s a shame we can’t have all of our charters be calm and collected.”

“You’ll learn this soon enough, but our enemies are always lurking around,” Blackjack's expression hardens. “You gotta be vigilant, Stiletto. This is just the beginning of your time with the club, Stiletto.”

“Shit,” Dex breathes, eyes wide. “So, we’re looking at a war?”

Blackjack’s gaze flickers to me, gauging my expression. “Could be. We need to keep our heads on straight. I don’t know what we’re walkin’ into, but I know his brother’s ol’ lady is on a mission.”

I’m trying to mask my unease, but I can’t help the shiver that creeps down my spine.

I mutter, stirring my drink absently, the ice clinking against the glass. “There’s always somethin’. We can never have peace for too long, can we?”

Blackjack says, a hint of sarcasm dancing in his voice. “Welcome to the club life.”

“Perfect,” Dex bites out, frustration spilling over. “Just when I thought we could catch a break.”

“Breaks are for the weak,” Blackjack replies, his tone hardening. “We prepare. We fight. That’s how this goes.”

“Right.” Dex exhales, resignation settling over him like a heavy blanket.

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