Unlawful Nights

The Devil’s Face

The flashlight beam hit us like a spotlight.

“There!” one of the men shouted, his voice echoing off the cold stone walls.

Adrian’s grip on my wrist tightened, firm and commanding. Before I could protest, his body shifted in front of mine, shielding me. His hand slipped inside his coat and when it emerged, I caught the metallic gleam.

A gun.

My stomach dropped. My professor. The man every woman on campus whispered about, every girl wanted, and every rival feared—was holding a weapon like it had always belonged to him.

The men rushed forward, boots striking against the concrete floor.

Adrian’s voice was low, sharp, like a blade cutting through air.

“Stay down.”

I froze. My legs refused to obey, but then he shoved me gently but firmly behind a shelf of old, dusty books. I crouched, shaking, every nerve in my body screaming that this was wrong, that none of this made sense.

The first man rounded the corner. Adrian struck without hesitation. A brutal crack filled the air as the butt of his gun connected with the man’s jaw. The flashlight clattered to the ground, spinning light across the underground chamber.

The second man lunged with a curse, only to choke when Adrian’s fist landed square against his throat. He dropped, wheezing, clutching his neck.

I clutched my chest, heart hammering.

The third man raised a knife, charging forward. Adrian moved with frightening precision—low, fluid, twisting the man’s wrist until the blade clanged onto the floor. He kicked him hard in the ribs, sending him sprawling against the wall.

It was over before I could take my next breath.

Three men groaned, broken and scattered, while Adrian stood over them, chest heaving, jaw tight, eyes blazing with something raw and unshakable.

Not a professor.

Not just a man.

Something more. Something darker.

My gaze flickered to the phone vibrating in his hand.

The screen glowed with a single name that made my blood turn cold.

Uncle Vega.

I froze, the name slicing through me. Vega. The name whispered in campus corridors. The name tied to corruption, mafia blood, unsolved murders.

The call wasn’t an accident. It wasn’t coincidence. It was confirmation.

“Elena.” His voice snapped me back. He strode toward me, slipping the gun beneath his coat again. His face softened slightly, though his eyes remained sharp. “We need to leave. Now.”

I stumbled back a step. “What… what was that? Who are you?”

He crouched down to meet me, our faces inches apart. “I’m the man keeping you alive.”

I shook my head, tears stinging. “You fought like them. Like one of them. That call… it was your family, wasn’t it?”

His jaw tightened, his silence louder than any confession. Then he extended his hand toward me, palm open, steady.

“You don’t want the answer to that.”

“I do.” My voice was barely a whisper. “I need to.”

Footsteps echoed deeper in the tunnels. More men. More danger.

His phone buzzed again. He glanced at it, unreadable. “It’s my uncle,” he muttered. “He already knows.”

Every bone in me screamed to run. And yet… when he said, “Take my hand,” I did.

And that was when I realized the most terrifying truth of all.

Adrian Vega wasn’t who I thought he was.

And I didn’t know if I wanted to escape from him… or escape with him.

The Safehouse

The night air slapped my skin as we emerged from the back exit of the campus. The sound of distant city life barely reached here. Adrian pulled me through the shadows, his hand firm around mine, every stride calculated like he had done this a hundred times before.

“Where are we going?” I demanded, voice trembling.

“Somewhere no one can touch you,” he said flatly.

No one could touch me? I almost laughed. He already had. His lips, his voice, his presence—they had branded themselves onto me, no matter how much I told myself to resist.

The ride in the sleek black car was silent. Adrian’s gaze never left the road, jaw tight, fingers steady on the wheel.

I stared at him in the dim light, at the lines of his profile, the sharpness of his eyes.

A stranger. A savior. A devil.

When we stopped, it wasn’t at a mansion or an estate. It was a plain house at the edge of the woods. Too plain. Too quiet.

A safehouse.

Inside, the walls were stripped bare. No photos, no warmth, no memories.

Only silence and the faint smell of cedar.

I stood there, still in my glittering gown, trembling, absurd against the emptiness of this place.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Adrian muttered, locking the door.

“I didn’t want to be alone.” My voice broke.

The words slipped out before I could stop them. And they were true.

I didn’t want to be alone. Not with the shadows of my father’s death haunting me, not with the sight of Adrian fighting like a killer burned into my mind.

“You’re safer away from me.” His voice was rough, like gravel.

But my feet moved on their own. I walked toward him.

My hand brushed his. “You’re my enemy. I should hate you.”

“Then hate me,” he rasped, his breath hot against my lips. “But don’t stay.”

I didn’t let go. I couldn’t. My grip only tightened.

The silence snapped, and in an instant his hands cupped my face, his mouth crashing against mine. The kiss was fierce, bruising, filled with desperation and fire.

I melted into him, into the man I was supposed to despise, into the enemy who felt like the only safe place left in the world.

That night, in the safehouse, I gave in.

Tomorrow, I told myself, I would never look at him again. Tomorrow, I would remind myself that he was a Vega. My father’s enemy. My enemy.

But tonight—I let myself burn.

The Morning After

Sunlight slanted through the blinds, sharp and accusing.

I sat at our dining table, hair damp, lips swollen from his kiss, my body betraying me with every memory of the night before.

“Elena.” My mother’s voice pulled me back. She peered at me over her coffee. “Why were you home so late? What happened?”

My throat closed. I forced a smile. “I was in the library. Lost track of time.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You look… different.”

I laughed lightly, shaking my head. “Just tired, Mama.”

But inside, I was anything but tired.

Inside, I was on fire.

I told myself I would push him away. That Adrian Vega was poison. That I would dig for answers, for evidence, for the truth about my father’s death and his family’s hand in it.

But the more I tried to hate him, the more I longed for him.

So I lied.

I smiled.

And I buried the secret of the safehouse deep in my chest.

Because the more I tried to go far… the more my heart betrayed me.

I wanted him.

Even if he destroyed me.

Adrian’s POV

I stood at the window of the safehouse, the night stretching endlessly beyond the trees. My shirt still carried the faint trace of her perfume, intoxicating and dangerous.

I should never have brought her here.

She didn’t belong in my world. Elena Cruz was light, brilliance, beauty—everything I had sworn to stay away from. The moment she stumbled into my life, I knew she would be my undoing.

My phone buzzed again on the table.

Uncle Vega.

I didn’t answer. Not tonight.

He would want explanations, loyalty, obedience.

He would want me to play the heir, the weapon, the next king in a bloody empire.

But my mind wasn’t on the family tonight.

It was on her.

Elena.

Her eyes, wide with fear and defiance.

Her lips, swollen from a kiss I never should have stolen.

Her body trembling against mine, yet she hadn’t let go.

She was my weakness. And weaknesses get you killed.

I raked a hand through my hair, jaw tight. I should let her walk away tomorrow, should push her out of my world before it swallowed her whole.

But the truth was brutal. I couldn’t.

Because, for the first time in years, I wanted something for myself.

And it was her.