Page 9 of Dance With A Devil
I’m itching again. And only one woman can scratch that.
Sitting in traffic feels like waiting for a vein to bleed out.
My fingers drum against the steering wheel, sharp and restless. The people on the other side of the road move like ants, oblivious. Blissfully unaware that hell could swallow them whole and they’d never see it coming.
I blink slowly. Then: “Siri, call Karter.”
The Bluetooth clicks.
“Hello?” His voice oozes through the speakers, low and lazy, like he’s just rolled out of someone’s bed. Probably has.
But I’m not in the mood for his charming bullshit. Not when it concernsher.
“I need her address,” I snap. “Now.”
Silence.
Not static. Not hesitation.Calculation.
“Karter,” I growl, voice tight enough to slit a throat, “I’m not in the mood to fuck around. I need to see her.”
He exhales, long, drawn out, like I’ve interrupted something important. “What happened? Where are you?”
“I just left the warehouse. The initiates handled their task like wolves tasting blood for the first time. Kill or be killed. Most chose correctly.”
“Why wereyouthere?” he asks, a little edge slipping into his tone. “Didn’t Dash already lock that shit down?”
A grin creeps across my face. He doesn’t know yet. And I get to be the one to tell him.
“Yeah, Dash had it under control. Until he didn’t.”
I stretch my neck side to side, watching the cars inch forward. “He left to chase a lead. I pulled up while the cleanup crew was still working. Thought I’d do a sweep.”
“You find something?” Karter’s voice sharpens.
“Oh, you could say that.” I lean back against the headrest, letting the moment stretch. “RememberKellan?”
“Name’s familiar,” he says. “Doesn’t ring a bell.”
Fucking hell.
“He’s been with our crew since his sophomore year. Cleaning up blood and body parts like a good little Devil. Went missing two months ago… and we didn’t even notice.”
Silence again. But this time, it’s boiling.
“Keep going,” Karter says tightly.
“Dash found out why.Colt Carmichael, Gerald Carmichael’s son, has been impersonating him. Wearing his skin. Workinginsideour walls. Right under our fucking noses.”
“Motherfucker.” Karter growls. “How the hell did we miss that?”
“Because we’ve been too comfortable. Too focused on parties, politics, and pussy while the cracks widened under our feet.”
My jaw clenches. I can feel it pulsing.
“We keep saying the moles are gone. But I’m not so sure anymore. This… this was a fucking warning shot. One we damn near missed.”
He breathes deep. “We need tighter control. Background checks. Surveillance. Every single person tied to our name needs to bleed for us or be removed.”
