Page 37 of Toxic

She meets my gaze steadily. “Yes, we do. But not here, not now.”

I nod in agreement. There will be time for explanations, for unraveling the web of secrets and lies that led us to this point. For now, I’m content knowing she’s safe and back where she belongs — by my side.

As we make our way out of the warehouse, the cool night air hits us, carrying with it the promise of a new dawn. The city sprawls before us, unaware of the drama that unfolded in its shadows. But I know that after tonight, nothing will be the same.

I guide Devin toward one of the waiting SUVs, my hand never leaving her back. As we settle into the vehicle, I catch her watching me, a mix of emotions playing across her face.

“What?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.

She shakes her head slightly, a small smile tugging on her lips. “Nothing. Just... thank you. For coming for me.”

I reach out, taking her hand in mine, my thumb tracing circles on her skin. “Always,” I promise, my voice low and intense. “I will always come for you, Devin.”

As the car pulls away from the warehouse, leaving behind the chaos and violence, I feel a shift in the air between us. Thegame we’ve been playing, the dance of power and control, has changed. We’ve crossed a line tonight, and there’s no going back.

But as I look at Devin, her head resting against the seat, eyes closed in exhaustion but her hand still firmly in mine, I realize I don’t want to go back.

The city lights smudge past the window as we drive, and I allow myself a moment of contentment. Devin is safe. Kazanov and Regina are neutralized. And tomorrow... tomorrow I figure out who the mastermind behind every attack on my business and life is.

As we near my penthouse, Devin stirs, her eyes opening to meet mine. There’s a vulnerability there that I’ve never seen mixed with her usual strength. It’s a heady combination.

“Hawk,” she says softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “What happens now?”

I squeeze her hand gently, my gaze never leaving hers. “Now, we rest. Tomorrow, we plan. And then...”

“And then?” she prompts, a hint of her usual challenge in her tone.

A slow smile spreads across my face, all threat. “And then, my dear, we conquer.”

EIGHTEEN

The warehouse looms before us, a hulking metal beast on the outskirts of the city. As Hawk pulls the car to a stop, I feel a thrill of anticipation mixed with dread. Today, we get answers.

Hawk’s hand finds mine, squeezing gently. “Ready?” he asks, his voice low and dangerous.

I meet his gaze, seeing my own ruthless determination reflected there. “Yes.”

The interior of the warehouse is cold and damp, our footsteps echoing off concrete walls. In the center of the vast space, two figures are bound to chairs - Regina and Kazanov, both looking worse for wear after a night in captivity.

Hawk’s men stand guard, their faces impassive. As we approach, I see Regina’s eyes widen, a flicker of hope crossing her features.

“Hawk,” she starts, her voice hoarse. “Please, you have to understand-“

Hawk cuts her off with a sharp gesture. “Understand what, Regina? That you betrayed me? That you put Devin in danger?” His voice is ice, devoid of any warmth. “Oh, I understand perfectly.”

I watch as Hawk circles Kazanov like a predator stalking its prey. The crime lord tries to maintain his bravado, but I see the fear in his eyes. He knows what’s coming.

“You made a grave mistake, Kazanov,” Hawk says, his tone conversational despite the menace underlying his words. “You touched what’s mine.”

Before Kazanov can respond, Hawk’s fist connects with his jaw in a vicious uppercut. The crack of bone is audible, and blood sprays from Kazanov’s mouth.

I feel a rush of savage pleasure at the sight. This man who thought he could use me as a pawn in his game is about to learn the cost of his arrogance.

Hawk doesn’t stop with one punch. His fists rain down on Kazanov in a brutal onslaught, each impact punctuated by a grunt of exertion. I watch, mesmerized, as Hawk unleashes his fury. It’s addicting. Watching the power behind his fury is so fucking sexy.

When he finally steps back, Kazanov is barely recognizable, his face a swollen mass of bruises and blood. Hawk’s knuckles are split and bleeding, but he doesn’t seem to notice.

“Now,” Hawk says, wiping his hands on a handkerchief, “let’s talk about who you’re working for.”

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