Page 38 of Throttle All the Way

Ray nodded, his jaw tight. “I’ll follow up with the feds, see if they’ve got anything else they’re not sharing.”

As he stood to leave, I couldn’t shake the unease coiling in my gut. The pieces didn’t fit. Killing Tommy was one thing. Slaughtering the girls was another. This wasn’t just business. This was personal.

And personal was dangerous.

Outside, the city stirred awake, oblivious to the storm brewing beneath its surface. Somewhere in the shadows, Yulian Volkov was moving his pieces, each one a step closer to checkmate.

And I’d be damned if I let him win.

VOLKOV

The night cloaked me like an old friend, shadows curling around my frame as I watched the events unfold at the Elixir. From the darkness, I could see the flashing lights of police cars reflecting off broken glass and drying blood. A symphony of despair, orchestrated to perfection.

A grim smile tugged at my lips as Noel Garcia emerged from the club, the detective’s face was carved with exhaustion, frustration, and a touch of fear he likely thought no one could see.

What a fucking fool thinking he could go head to head with the Bratva. Just like his President, Paul Jameson. Thinking he could take what didn’t belong to him.

I leaned against the brick wall of the alley, a cigarette dangling loosely between my fingers. The embers glowed as I inhaled deeply, the smoke curling around me, a companion to my thoughts.

Mila. My Mila.

She thought she could run, thought she could hide in Noel Garcia’s arms like some damsel in distress, just waiting to be saved.

Garcia was no knight, no savior. He was a misstep. An idiot who didn’t understand the rules of this game. Mila was mine to play with, marked the moment she was born, and she would be mine to destroy. Anyone stupid enough to stand in my way, deserved to die.

And the Royal Bastards?Oh, they would pay for their arrogance. Bulldog and his merry band of self-righteous fools thought they were untouchable, hiding behind their brotherhood, their patched leather, and their delusions of power. But even kings fall.

And their downfall would begin with Noel Garcia’s dead body.

He destroyed everything. Took everything. Mila Stepanovich was supposed to die at my hands as soon as she signed her fortune over. Mila’s betrayal cut deep, but Noel’s insolence was unforgivable. He dared to challenge me, to insert himself where he didn’t belong. But no matter.

I exhaled slowly, the smoke twisting into the cold night air as I watched the detective climb into his car, his movements sharp and irritated. He didn’t know it yet, but he was already playing into my hands.The scene at the club?That was the opening act. A distraction, a seed of uncertainty planted to create doubt and disorder.

And it was working beautifully.

Tommy Lingdale was the perfect awn in the game. The police would now be all over who killed the Councilman’s son, not knowing that the Councilman himself was a piece of shit who not only owed us money, he played in our little game. Every week he’d request a new girl, younger and younger came his requests in return, he’d let us do what we needed to do to move money and girls across the border. But he was getting a little too arrogant and we needed to remind him who had the power here.

The detective drove off, the taillights of his car disappearing into the distance, leaving behind only the fading hum of an engine and the scent of gasoline.

“Run along, Garcia,” I muttered under my breath, flicking the ash of my cigarette onto the ground. “While you’re busy chasing ghosts, I’ll be tending to matters far more personal.”

I pushed off the wall, the night stretching before me like an endless canvas. It was time to visit my favorite pet. She always knew how to soothe the fire in my veins, how to remind me of what I was capable of. Her pain, her submission—they were my sanctuary.

Mila might think she’d escaped me, but she hadn’t. Not really. The leash I had around her neck was invisible, but it was there, tightening with every move she made.

And as for the biker? Well, he’d learn soon enough.

With a final glance at the club, I turned on my heel, my steps echoing softly against the pavement as I disappeared into the shadows.

Tonight wasn’t about bloodshed. That part of the plan was already set in motion.

Tonight was about pleasure. About control. About reminding myself that, while the world thought chaos reigned, I was the one holding the strings.

MILA

The stillness of the night was a cruel illusion, the kind that whispered sweet lies of safety into my mind. The warmth of the blankets swaddled me in a cocoon, and for one fleeting moment, I let myself believe it. Cipher would be back soon, strong and unyielding, with that steady presence that made me feel, for once, that I wasn’t alone.

“Cipher?” My voice was barely a whisper, heavy with the haze of sleep and desperate hope. The bed had shifted, the weight beside me a familiar comfort.

---