Page 15 of The Devil's Chaos

Her eyes searched mine as if seeking some hidden truth buried deep within my soul. “And if I refuse?”

I tilted my head slightly, a smirk playing on my lips. “Then we play a different game, little lamb. A game where the stakes are much higher than you could ever imagine, and there’s no turning back.”

I leaned in closer, the scent of rain and fear surrounding us. “I will get the answers I need,” I whispered, my words hanging in the air like a promise or a threat, depending on how she interpreted them.

She didn’t back down; instead, holding my gaze, she declared, “You don’t scare me.”

“Perhaps I should,” I replied, a warning laced in my words.

But instead of heeding it, she squared her shoulders and met my gaze head-on. “I’ve dealt with worse than you,” she scoffed. “Try me.” Her challenge hung in the air between us, daring me to make a move.

The air crackled between us as we stood locked in a silent battle of wills. I took a step back, breaking the intensity of the moment. “Very well, little lamb,” I said, amusement threading through my voice. “Let the games begin.” I pushed past her and strode toward the front door. I sensed her eyes boring into my back, curiosity mingling with determination. I didn’t expect her to follow me, but when she trailed behind me, her steps hesitant, yet purposeful, I knew we were both determined to outwit the other. Turning to face her, she had a glint of defiance in her eyes that matched my own.

“You don’t get to leave without explaining to me why the hell you broke into my apartment and watched me like some creep.”

“A creep?” I repeated mockingly. My gaze fell on her face, illuminated by the light from the nearby table. And then I saw it—a dark purple bruise decorating her jawline. It stood out starkly against her olive skin, like a sinister painting.

My amusement vanished, replaced by a surge of protectiveness. For a moment, my composure wavered, and the mask of indifference slipped from my face.

She must have noticed the change in my expression because a flicker of uncertainty flashed in her eyes before her defiance returned tenfold, and she steeled herself once more.

“What’s the matter? Don’t tell me you’re feeling guilty now,” she spat, bitterness lacing her words. “You think you’re going to intimidate me?”

I took a deep breath, trying to steady my rage. “Who did this to you?” The words escaped my lips before I could stop them, genuine concern seeping into my tone.

“Did wh—?” Her eyes followed my gaze, and when she realized I was talking about the bruise on her face, her jaw clenched as she averted her gaze. A haunted look passed over her features.

“Who. Did. This. To. You,” I asked, emphasizing each word.

“It doesn’t matter,” she replied curtly, attempting to sidestep the question. She lifted her chin, a boldness to that simple movement. But something in the way she avoided my eyes told me it mattered more than she let on.

Without thinking, I reached out and firmly tilted her chin up, forcing her to look me in the eyes. “Either you tell me who did this to you, or I kill every person that was at the club tonight.” My threat hung heavy in the air between us as she stared back at me with wide green eyes.

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me,” I challenged, meaning every word.

“You’re fucking crazy.” She tried to pull away, but I held her firmly in place.

“You have no idea,” I growled. “Now, tell me.”

The fire in her eyes softened as she seemed to reconsider her earlier bravado.

“I…I don’t know who he is. He’s some friend of Winston Grey.”

“Name,” I demanded sharply.

She hesitated before answering, “Gerald.”

My blood boiled at the mention of that name. “Last name?”

“I don’t know.” Her voice was barely above a whisper now.

It did not matter. I would find him with or without a last name.

I clenched my fists, the need for vengeance gnawing at my very being. “Who else?”

“What do you mean, who else?”

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