Page 23 of Dead Devil's Playground
But then she does something that catches me off guard. She pauses, slides her phone into her pocket, and approaches Oliver, who's hovering uncertainly by the door.
"You did well," she says, her voice softening in a way I rarely hear directed at anyone but me and Rev. "Coming back here alone was risky, but you were very brave to call us right away."
Oliver practically melts under her praise, his eyes widening with naked adoration. "I just wanted to help," he says, voice small.
"And you did. You're such a good boy, Oliver." She reaches up, brushing his hair back from his face in a gesture so intimate it makes my teeth clench.
The look he gives her is exactly why I called him Puppy. His eyes are wide and worshipful, hungry for more praise, more attention. He'd probably roll over and show his belly if she asked. I hate it. I hate the way he looks at her like she's his salvation and his destruction all wrapped in one perfect package.
But I can never deny Ry anything, not even this. If she wants to keep this pretty little dancer as a pet, so be it.
I turn away, focusing on Hudson instead. "How bad is it?"
"Bad enough," he replies, still on the phone. "I'm bringing in a team to check everything. If they messed with the fire suppression system, they could have tampered with other safety measures too."
Ry rejoins us, her hand lingering on Oliver's arm for a moment before she lets go. "We have six hours to fix this before the inspector arrives. Whatever it takes, the Playground opens on schedule."
Her voice brooks no argument, and I find myself nodding along with Hudson. When Ry gets like this—all iron will and cold determination—it's impossible not to follow her lead.
"I'll call Rev," I say, pulling out my phone. "He needs to know what's happening."
As I dial, I glance back at Oliver, who's watching Ry with those puppy-dog eyes. Yeah, he's going to be a problem. But maybe he'll be a useful one.
If anything, at least I know he likes pain so I can get some knife practice if he ever even thinks of hurting her.
For now, we have more pressing concerns. Like finding the fuckers who dared to sabotage our club and making them regret the day they were born.
Chapter 10
Ry
Thefiremarshalisa short man with a permanent scowl etched into his weathered face. He adjusts his glasses, squinting at the clipboard in his hands as he makes another check mark. His khaki uniform is pressed to perfection, the badge on his chest catching the light as he turns to examine another section of the sprinkler system.
"Everything appears to be in order so far," he mutters, more to himself than to us.
I follow a few steps behind, my heart hammering against my ribs despite my casual expression. If he only knew how close we came to disaster.
Six hours of frantic work. Six hours of Hudson's team tearing apart the club, finding and repairing every bit of sabotage those bastards left behind. They'd done a thorough job—disabling sprinklers, tampering with emergency lighting, even rigging some of the electrical systems to fail under stress. It would have been impressive if it wasn't aimed at destroying us.
"The spacing on these sprinkler heads is good," the marshal mutters, making another mark. "And these emergency exit signs?" He gestures toward the glowing red signs above each door.
"All connected to the backup generator," Hudson replies smoothly. "In the event of power failure, they'll remain illuminated for a minimum of ninety minutes."
The marshal nods, making another notation. "Good, good. And the capacity limits for each area?"
I step forward, handing him the laminated charts we had prepared. "All clearly posted at the entrance to each section. We've also trained our staff to monitor the numbers and redirect patrons if necessary."
He examines the charts, his expression unreadable. I feel sweat gathering at the small of my back, but I keep my smile firmly in place. We can't fail this inspection. The grand opening is in two nights, and I'll be damned if I let some saboteurs derail everything we've worked for.
Around us, workers are already starting to file in, carrying tools and materials for the final touches. They keep their distance from the inspection, but I can feel their curious glances. News travels fast in this city, and I'm sure they've all heard about the overdoses at the Devil's Lair by now. The timing couldn't be worse.
The fire marshal continues his methodical inspection, checking every extinguisher, every emergency exit, every last inch of the sprinkler system. Each moment that passes feels like an eternity, but finally, he closes his clipboard with a decisive snap.
"Well, Ms. Coal, it seems everything is up to code," he announces. "You're cleared to open as scheduled."
I release the breath I didn't realize I was holding. "Thank you. We appreciate your thoroughness."
He narrows his eyes slightly. "Just make sure it stays that way. I'll be back for a follow-up inspection."
