Treachery

Episode10

Dante was half a step behind me when someone bumped straight into my chest—soft, sudden, and smelling faintly of citrus and vanilla.

I caught her by instinct before she could stumble.

Her voice came out rushed, flustered. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry—”

She looked up at me, and I froze.

Not externally—never externally. But something flickered beneath the surface. She was pretty in a way that caught me off-guard. Not done-up, not exaggerated. Just… striking. Brown eyes. Full mouth. The kind of skin you don’t forget after one glance. She looked soft. Real.

But more than anything, it was the way she looked up at me—uncertain, a little startled, lips parting slightly like she wanted to say more but didn’t.

I hated that, I noticed.

My jaw tightened. I was still staring. I didn’t move.

Her eyes flicked to Dante, who towered behind me with that don’t-f**k-with-me energy radiating off him in waves, and I watched the way her face paled just a little. She thought we were dangerous. She was right.

“Sorry,” she said again quickly, stepping aside, eyes dropping.

And just like that, it was over. A brief moment. A flash of softness in the chaos.

I walked past her without another word. But she stayed in my head.

---

The place the bastard mentioned turned out to be a ghost site. Boarded up. No drive. No intel. Nothing but broken crates and a few rats that scattered when Dante kicked open the back door.

Dante and I had taken tow hours to tear the place upside down, hoping it was the right place but the information was just well hidden but after going at it with no results, it was clear that theo lied to us. We would have to find another way to bring out the information from him, and I knew the perfect way.

I looked around once and sighed. “He’s lying.”

“Told you,” Dante muttered.

“Look into his personal life. There must be someone he's afraid of losing. Make him lose them.”

Dante nodded, already texting someone.

I stared at the floor a second longer, jaw clenched. Not because of the lie. That part I expected. It was the damn girl. Her image had resurfaced—uninvited. Unwanted.

I forced her face out of my mind and returned to the SUV.

---

By the time I made it home, the sun was beginning to dip behind the skyline, casting an amber tint through the bulletproof windows of my penthouse. The space was quiet. Clean. Lifeless. Just how I liked it. I stripped out of my shirt and stood under the shower, letting the water burn away the scent of blood and metal.

But even as steam wrapped around me and the water drummed against my skin, I couldn’t stop seeing her. The bump. The look in her eyes. The softness I had no business remembering.

I was pissed at myself.

It wasn’t like I was some hopeless romantic. I didn’t believe in grand gestures or gentle words. Love, if it existed at all, was action. It was protection, provision, showing up when the rest of the world walked out. My version of love didn’t come with poetry. It came with results.

So why the hell couldn’t I stop seeing her?

I dried off, threw on sweats, and grabbed a drink. My dinner sat untouched on the counter. I wasn’t hungry. But I had to force myself to eat at least half of it. It was my first and only meal of the day.

I was just tired.

Tired and already wondering what the hell kind of girl wore a face like t

hat in a world this dark.

And why the f**k it mattered.