THE ARCANE: Birth of Revenge

Chapter 13

[Warning: This chapter contains explicit s****l content and strong language. Rated 18+]

Emirate Hills, Dubai.

★★★★

El Rojo lay deep in the warmth of his marble pool, hidden within the luxury of his Dubai mansion, a place he had fled to after everything he built in his hometown, Mexico had been reduced to ashes by Kendric’s armies, yet nothing about him suggested defeat.

He leaned back in the pool, relaxed but alert. A thick cigarette sat between his fingers as he brought it to his lips, took a slow drag, then lowered his hand again. A glass of alcohol rested at the edge within his reach, untouched, while thin smoke rose from his fingers and drifted into the air.

Around him, the atmosphere was anything but quiet. Five women moved around him in the water, their laughter soft and s****l, their hands gliding over his c**k, his shoulders, his chest, each one trying to pull his attention in her direction as they competed for his focus.

“Eres una perra sexy,” he muttered in Spanish (You are a sexy b***h), his lips curling slightly as he reached for one of them, pulling her closer with a possessive ease. “Ven con papi.” (Come to daddy.)

Two others, who had been caught up in their own moment, kissing each other as it turned Danté on, slowly turned their attention toward him, their laughter blending together as they moved through the water in his direction. Their bodies brushed against his as he drew them in, the moment soaked in temptation and control.

“El Rojo.”

A voice cut through the room. The atmosphere shifted instantly, El Rojo’s expression didn’t change at first, but the slight pause in his movement said enough as he slowly turned his head, his eyes narrowing just enough to show his irritation.

“¿Qué?” he replied (What?), his tone low, edged with annoyance at the interruption .

One of his men stood at the entrance, careful and cautious, fully aware that he had just stepped into something he shouldn’t have interrupted unless it mattered... and somehow, it did.

“Encontramos una foto de cómo se ve el chico…” the man said (We found a picture of what the boy looks like…)

That got Mr Red’s attention.

There was a subtle shift in his posture, a slight tightening in his gaze as the weight of those words settled in, pulling him out of the moment completely as his focus snapped fully onto the man.

“Show me,” he ordered, his broken English slipping out as he extended his hand, his tone no longer distracted, now sharp and intentional.

The man stepped forward without hesitation, holding out a small file as Mr Red took it from him, water dripping from his fingers as he opened it slowly, his movements deliberate, like he was already expecting something valuable inside.

He pulled out the first image. It was a picture of Rowan.

Mr Red studied the face for a moment, his eyes scanning every detail, his head tilting slightly as a faint, knowing expression crossed his face, he laughed calmly, like someone who was ten steps ahead of the enemy.

“Hmm…” he murmured under his breath. Then he flipped the page. The next document held more than just a face. It held history, details and information of Rowan. And as his eyes moved across it, the amusement faded into something colder.

He read carefully, slowly, taking everything in, not missing a single line.

“¿Sin padres?” he asked (No parents?), his voice quieter.

“No, El Rojo,” the man replied. “No tiene parientes ni familia… parece otro proyecto de Kendric.” (He has no relatives or family… seems like another project of Kendric.)

Mr Red leaned back slightly, his fingers tightening around the edge of the file as a deeper understanding began to form in his mind, connecting pieces that hadn’t made sense before.

“Así que esto es lo que hace valiente a Kendric…” he murmured. (So this is what makes Kendric brave…) tone low, as though speaking to himself.

His eyes hardened. “He need to watch his back,” he continued in broken English, his voice dropping further as his gaze remained fixed on the file. “No sabrá qué lo golpeó cuando vaya por mi venganza.” (He won’t know what hit him when I come for my revenge.)

The room felt colder, even with the warm water, even with the women still around him. In that moment, Mr Red wasn’t thinking about pleasure anymore. He was thinking about war.

“¿Dónde están ahora?” he asked (Where are they now?), lifting his eyes to the man.

“Siguen en Londres,” the man replied. “Pero nuestras fuentes hablan de un nuevo proyecto… podrían moverse pronto.” (They’re still in London… but our sources speak of a new project… they might move soon.)

Mr Red went quiet for a second, processing that.

“Interesante…” he whispered (Interesting…), his lips curling slightly as if he had just been handed an opportunity. He closed the file slowly.

“Quiero que los vigiles,” he said (I want you to keep an eye on them), his tone calm again and controlled. “Cada movimiento. Cada cambio. Quiero saber todo en cuanto ocurra.” (Every move. Every change. I want to know everything as soon as it happens.)

“Sí, El Rojo,” the man replied immediately. (Yes, Mr Red.)

There was nothing more to say. He turned and left just as quickly as he came, the door closing behind him.

For a moment, Mr Red sat there in silence, the file resting in his hand, his mind already moving ahead, already planning, already seeing the path that would lead him back to what was taken from him.

He exhaled slowly. And just like that, the atmosphere shifted again. His gaze dropped back to the women around him, who had gone quiet during the exchange, watching him carefully while waiting.

A slow smile returned to his face.

“Come on,” he said, his voice low and gentle, almost amused as he leaned back again, letting the tension dissolve into something else. “Don’t stop because of that.”

The women began to move, the energy returning, the laughter softer again, more s****l, but cautious as they circled him once more.

He looked at the bodyguards surrounding the pool and ordered them to vacate with a simple hand signal. They obeyed without a word and left.

When he confirmed no one else was around, it was just him and the five hot, sexy, naked ladies.

Mr. Red eased himself onto the pool’s edge, legs spread wide. The warm water lapped gently beneath him as he slowly pulled down his drawers.

"Come on baby," he said with ease, his voice smooth and commanding. "Suck this dick..."

Slowly, the girls began to touch his lap, their soft hands sliding up his thighs as they took turns sucking his veiny c**k.

One after the other, their warm, wet mouths wrapped around him. Tongues glided hungrily along every thick, pulsing vein, mixing their saliva together.

They continued sucking him eagerly, exchanging deep, sloppy kisses between themselves while stroking his hard d**k. Precum was already glistening on Mr. Red’s swollen d**k cap.

“f**k!” he moaned, the sound barely a whisper as he tilted his head back toward the sky in pure satisfaction.

“Sigue… justo ahí, no te detengas, bebé,” he groaned, his eyes heavy with pleasure. (Keep going… Right there, don't stop baby)

And as the water rippled around him, as the room filled again with warmth and tension, one thing remained clear—El Rojo hadn’t escaped. He had only retreated. And now… he was ready to come back with revenge against not only the commander but Rowan.