Page 18 of Dead Devil's Playground
Chapter 8
Ry
Istandfrozenatthe railing, my knuckles white as I grip the metal bar. My vision narrows to the chaos below, where bodies continue to drop like dominoes. All I can hear is screams and the heavy thud of security boots as they try to control the panicking crowd.
White-hot rage builds in my chest, choking me. This is my territory. My fucking club.This is fucking war.
Below, Rev moves like a force of nature through the crowd, his face carved from stone as he directs security to block the exits. No one's getting out until we know what we're dealing with. Camden weaves between bodies, checking pulses, barking orders into his radio. Kai is helping load a convulsing woman onto a stretcher, his movements controlled despite the madness surrounding him.
In the distance, sirens wail, getting closer by the second. My jaw clenches. This is going to be a PR nightmare. The club is inthe twins' names—all our businesses are—but this is my empire. My rules that someone just pissed on.
"Fuck," I hiss, slamming my palm against the railing.
Through the pandemonium, I see Rev catch Kai's eye, something passing between them in that silent twin language they've had since birth. He jerks his head toward the VIP section—toward me. Kai nods once, sharp and decisive, before breaking away from the medical team and heading for the stairs.
The sirens are screaming now, right outside. Red and blue lights flash through the windows, casting eerie shadows across the walls. We don't have much time.
Kai appears at my side, his face grim, eyes burning with the same fury I feel coursing through my veins. Without a word, he grips my elbow and steers me away from the railing.
"We need to go. Now," he growls, already guiding me toward the private elevator at the back of the VIP section.
"But—"
"Rev's handling it," he cuts me off. "We need to regroup."
I let him pull me into the elevator, my mind racing with all the ways I'm going to make whoever did this suffer. The doors slide shut just as uniformed officers pour into the club below.
The moment we reach the penthouse, I explode.
"Who theFUCKwould dare?" I snarl, pacing across the living room like a caged animal. "In our club? Under our fucking noses? I want them found. I want them skinned alive."
Kai watches me, his eyes tracking my movements with predatory focus. His phone buzzes in his pocket, but he doesn't even glance at it.
"We'll find them," he says, his voice dangerously soft. "And when we do, they'll wish they'd never been born."
"This isn't coincidence," I snap, running a hand through my hair. "First Fifth Street, now this? Someone's testing us, Kai. Making a move against everything we've built."
"I know." His eyes darken as he stalks toward me. "And they'll pay for it. In blood."
"Damn right they will," I hiss. "I want to tear this city apart until we find them. I want to hunt them down and carve them open myself."
"I know." His voice is calm, but I can see the same rage simmering beneath his controlled exterior.
"We need to find whoever did this and make an example of them. I want their heads on pikes outside the club." I'm shaking now, anger and adrenaline coursing through me like electricity.
“I think that might cause more trouble than some overdoses,” he mutters as his phone buzzes again. He pulls it out to look at it, his jaw tightening, but he makes no move to answer before his attention is on me again. "We will hunt them down. Every last one of them. I promise you that."
"When?" I demand, my voice cracking with fury. "I need blood, Kai. Tonight."
He tosses his phone onto the counter, ignoring the persistent buzzing. His eyes darken as they travel over me, taking in my flushed cheeks, the heaving of my chest, the murderous glint in my eyes.
"God, it's been too long since we've gone hunting together," he murmurs, closing the distance between us. "You have no idea how fucking hot you are like this. When you get that look—that killer gleam—it drives me insane."
His hand slides up my arm, fingers wrapping around my throat, just tight enough to make my pulse jump.
"The way you move when you've got a blade in your hand," he continues, voice dropping to a husky whisper. "The look on your face when you draw blood... makes me hard just thinking about it."
Before I can respond, his mouth crashes into mine. The kiss is brutal, all teeth and tongue, and I taste blood where his teethcatch my lip. I don't care. I need this—need the violence, the release.
