Page 11 of The Devil's Chaos

When I was satisfied that no part of him remained on my skin or inside of me, I turned the water off, wrapped a fluffy pink towel around me, and wandered back into my bedroom. The decanter of whiskey and my black satin sheets called out to me. I stripped off the towel, letting it fall to the floor, and slipped an oversized Bad Omens T-shirt on, opting out of putting underwear on. Before I crawled into bed, I opened my balcony doors, embracing the breeze that drifted into my room. I fumbled with the remote by my bedside and turned on a horror movie called Wrong Turn, where a group of kids in the Appalachian Mountains get hunted and hacked into pieces by some creepy, inbred mountain family.

A classic.

Draped in the warm lights of the TV and drinking my weight in whiskey, I was lulled into a deep sleep. The sound of a loud boom startled me awake, and I sat up and rubbed my eyes in a state of confusion. The movie was still playing a part near the end. The female character was running from the mountain men, and the pink glow from the clock on my end table read 3:38 a.m. I strained my ears to listen for any other sounds, and that’s when another loud crash of thunder shook my walls. The sound of rain splattering against my window caused me to let out a sigh of relief. It was just a thunderstorm.

My favorite.

From a young age, I had always been fascinated by thunderstorms. The turbulent clouds crashing into each otherlike warring armies in the sky captivated me. The bolts of lightning streaking across the heavens, followed by the deafening roar of thunder, gave each storm a sense of finality, like the end of a melancholic melody before the next one began. The pitter-patter of rain against my window soothed me with its hypnotic rhythm. I reached for the whiskey decanter, pouring another generous amount into my glass and feeling its warmth spread through my body.

As I took small sips from the glass, I slid out of bed and went to the kitchen. The fridge revealed a lack of groceries, but I managed to find some vanilla yogurt.

I made a mental note to hit the grocery store as soon as possible.

Spoon in hand, I closed the silverware drawer by bumping my hip against it and headed back to my bedroom. The moment I stepped into my bedroom, a cold wind hit me. It took me a minute to realize I had left the double balcony doors wide open, with the curtains billowing like ethereal beings. The sound of pouring rain and wind was now amplified inside my room.

The storm outside was picking up, with flashes of lightning brightening the room, and a low rumble of thunder echoing through the sky. I had always appreciated raw energy and power. I was drawn to the balcony, to the wind and rain, to the loud drumming of the thunder, and to the lightning—the lightning that shed light on the darkest places. I walked across the threshold and into the wall of rain falling from the sky. The rain pelted my skin, cleansing me as I stood under the torrential downpour. The sensation was both harsh and invigorating as my heart raced in sync with the thunder’s echo. The lightning illuminated the apartments around mine, casting shadows and highlights that danced across the wet brick walls. I stood there completely exposed and vulnerable to elements, embracing the raw power of mother nature. The wind whipped my hair intoa frenzy and carried the scent of rain-soaked earth and damp foliage with it, and I reveled in the chaos. I closed my eyes, tilted my head back, and let the storm consume me, savoring its primal energy.

I let my thoughts wander back to the tattooed stranger.

Why washisface the only face I saw when I closed my eyes?

I shook my head, trying to dispel his image, but he still lingered there. Maybe it was the whiskey, or maybe Gerald had hit me harder than I thought, but I swear I heardhisvoice behind me. I spun around quickly, peering through the rain wall and into my dark room, straining my eyes to focus on the direction of the sound, expecting to seehimthere. Seconds passed, and the storm roared, and just as the thunder boomed around me, lightning illuminated the sky around me. For a moment, I thought I saw him, hooded and silhouetted against the lightning flashes outside. As each bolt illuminated the sky, he seemed to move closer until he was just inside my doorway. My breath caught in my throat as I stumbled backward, tripping over a chair and crashing to the ground.

As I fell, I hit the back of my head against the corner of a nearby table, and before everything went black, all I could see werethosepiercing blue eyes staring back at me in the darkness.

7

SEVEN

KAI

Playing by the rules was not my strong suit. I knew Archer would be pissed if he found out, but the minute I locked eyes with Haven Benson, the daughter of the dirtbag kingpin of The Collectors, I couldn’t resist. I had full intentions to observe. After all, that’s what I was there for.

It was simple.

In and out.

Observe interactions of that lowlife family, so technically, Haven was included.

Or at least that’s what I had convinced myself.

But then, it wasn’t that simple.

As I watched her dance, something inside of me shifted. Her dark hair cascaded down her back like a midnight river, and her eyes locked onto mine in a hypnotic trance. I followed her to her dressing room, unable to resist the pull she had over me. Her eyes were deep forest green and flickered like sunlight filtered through leaves, like rings of silver encasing still summer water. As we stood face to face, her unflinching defiance ignited an unfamiliar thrill within me. But my excitement turned to rage when I witnessed how her piece-of-shit brother, Alexander,treated her—pimping her out to his greaseball friends and, interestingly enough, to Mila’s father, who I had already been tasked with watching. In theory, Archer couldn’t fault me for following Haven, as it also meant keeping an eye on Winston Grey and anyone affiliated with The Collectors. But deep down, I knew the truth—I was drawn to Haven like a moth to a flame, and now my mission had become entangled with something more dangerous than I could have ever imagined.

It was a good thing; red flags were green in my world.

When I saw Alexander drag her back into the room like she was nothing but a piece of meat, not even human, I was filled with rage. And fuck if this seething hot chaos that flowed in my blood didn’t lead me to do something about it. Sneaking into the VIP room next door, I lit a cigarette and carelessly threw it on the chic couch, watching with satisfaction as the flames devoured the velvet. The fire wrapped around the couch within minutes like a hungry predator consuming its prey. The crackling of the fire echoed loudly in the small room, drowning out any other sound as the smoke billowed upward, filling the air with a toxic, acrid scent. Once the fire alarms started and the sprinklers kicked on, I knew that was my cue to mingle with the crowd and disappear out the front door. I relished in the chaos I had created, watching as panicked patrons fled the club and Collectors members scrambled to extinguish the blaze. Waiting in my Impala outside, I knewshewould eventually emerge, frightened and vulnerable. Sure, I was reckless, but that’s why it paid to have Theo, a tech genius and fellow psycho, who could delete any evidence of my actions.

“Tell me you’re not calling because you need me to bail you out,” Theo answered.

“The night is still young,” I joked. “I need you to delete the camera feed from when I went into Haven’s dressing room?—”

“The fuck! What do you mean you went into her dressing room? What the fuck are you thinking, man?” he exclaimed.

“Relax, that’s not even the best part.”

“I can’t wait.”

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