Chapter 10: Dinner for Devils
1476 Words
The boat didn’t slow.
Sinner aimed straight for the black yacht. No lights. No flag. Just a floating fortress.
“Hold on,” he said. Arm locked around me. The drive burned in my palm.
We hit the hull at full speed. Wood splintered. Metal screamed. The boat flipped.
Water hit like ice. Hands grabbed me. Pulled me up.
Sinner. Bleeding. Alive. He dragged me onto the yacht deck before the boat sank.
Alarms blared. Men in suits ran. Guns up.
Sinner fired from the hip. Dropped two before they aimed. “This is my dinner invitation,” he said.
The deck was glass and steel. Cold. Empty. Except for one table. Long. White. Set for three.
At the head sat a man. Old. Suit tailored. No cut. No club. Just a gold ring on his finger. Same as mine.
The Architect.
He clapped slowly as we approached. “Mr. and Mrs. Blackwood. Right on time. I was afraid you’d miss dessert.”
Sinner stepped in front of me. Gun raised. “Where’s Diablo? Where’s my mother?”
“Dead,” the Architect said. “Diablo bled out on Dock 17. Your mother’s body is ash. Such a waste. She was my best student.”
Sinner’s jaw ticked. He didn’t fire. Not yet.
“Sit,” the Architect said. Gestured to the chairs. “Let’s talk business. Family business.”
“I don’t negotiate with ghosts,” Sinner said.
“I’m not a ghost,” the Architect smiled. “I’m your father-in-law. And her grandfather. That makes us family.”
He looked at me. Eyes like Sinner’s. Gun-barrel gray. “Angel. You have my eyes. And his ledger. Give it to me, and I’ll let you both walk. New names. New lives. I’m generous to blood.”
I didn’t move. Sinner’s hand found mine behind his back. Squeezed.
“The ledger doesn’t belong to you,” I said. Voice steady. “It belongs to the people you ruined.”
The Architect sighed. “Sentiment. Your father’s flaw. That’s why he died.”
“You faked his death,” Sinner said. “He’s alive.”
“No,” the Architect said. “I faked it twice. First to make him run. Second to make you trust him. He died in that warehouse. Explosion was real. Body was real. Sorry.”
The word hit like a bullet. My knees buckled. Sinner caught me. Held me up.
“Lie,” Sinner said. But his voice was rough.
“Check the news tomorrow,” the Architect said. “Devil’s Blood compound. Massive explosion. No survivors. Tragic.”
Sinner pulled me tighter. “You want the ledger? Come take it.”
The Architect stood. Old but not weak. He walked around the table. Stopped two feet from Sinner’s gun.
“I don’t need to take it,” he said. “I built it. Every name. Every account. Every sin. And now it’s in her blood. Your wife. My granddaughter. The final key.”
He reached for me. Sinner fired.
The bullet hit the Architect’s shoulder. He didn’t flinch. Didn’t bleed.
Body armor under the suit.
He grabbed my wrist. Yanked me forward.
Sinner moved faster. Drove his knife into the Architect’s side. Between the plates.
The old man gasped. Then laughed. Blood on his lips.
“Good,” he whispered. “You have his anger. My ruthlessness. She has my mind. Together, you could run everything.”
He collapsed. Dead before he hit the deck.
Silence. Then footsteps. Many.
Suits surrounded us. Guns raised. No orders. Just waiting.
A voice came from the yacht’s speakers. Female. Cold. Familiar.
“Father’s dead. But the business continues.”
Agent Rivera stepped from the shadows. No FBI vest now. Just a black suit. A tablet in her hand.
She looked at the Architect’s body. Then at me. Then at Sinner.
“Mommy?” I whispered.
She smiled. No warmth. “Hello, daughter. Did you really think I died in that car crash twenty years ago?”
Sinner swore. Pulled me behind him. “You.”
“Me,” Agent Rivera said. “I faked my death to escape him. Then I built my own empire. FBI badge. Cartel contacts. And now, Devil’s Blood and Reaper’s Sin both leaderless. One call and they’re mine.”
She tapped the tablet. Screens lit up across the yacht. Feeds from every city. Every club. Every account.
“I’m the Architect now,” she said. “And you’re either with me, or you’re fertilizer.”
Sinner didn’t lower the gun. “You used her. Used me. Used everyone.”
“I used what I had,” she said. “Including you, Kane. I let you think you chose her. I let you think you were in love. It was all leverage.”
“Wasn’t love,” Sinner said. Looked at me over his shoulder. “This is.”
He fired. Hit the tablet. It shattered. Screens went black.
Chaos. Suits opened fire.
Sinner dragged me behind the table. Returned fire with one hand. The other holding me down.
“Stay down,” he growled. “I got this.”
“You don’t,” I said. Pulled the drive from my pocket. “I do.”
I stood. Held the drive up. “You want it? Come take it!”
Rivera aimed at me. “Don’t—”
Sinner was faster. He tackled me. We hit the deck as bullets ripped the air above us.
The yacht lurched. Explosion below deck. VP’s voice in Sinner’s earpiece. “Boss! I planted charges! We have sixty seconds!”
Sinner stood. Dragged me up. “Run.”
We sprinted for the edge. Suits chased. Rivera screamed behind us. “You can’t escape me!”
Sinner didn’t answer. He just jumped.
Pulled me with him.
We hit the water. Cold. Dark. The drive clutched between our hands.
Behind us, the yacht exploded. Fire lit the sky. Bodies and steel rained down.
We surfaced gasping. A small boat idled nearby. VP at the helm.
He hauled us in. Wrapped me in a blanket. Sinner refused one. Just stared at the burning yacht.
“Is she dead?” I asked. Voice shaking.
“Fire that big? No one walks away,” VP said.
Sinner didn’t answer. He just held me. Checked my pulse. My breathing. Like I was the one who’d been shot.
“You okay?” he asked.
“No,” I said. “My mother’s alive. My father’s dead. My grandfather’s dead. What’s left?”
“You,” Sinner said. Touched the ring on my finger. “Me. Us. That’s all that matters.”
VP handed him the drive. “What now, boss?”
Sinner looked at it. Then at me. Then dropped it in the water.
It sank. Gone.
“Now we disappear,” he said. “No ledger. No war. No Architect. Just us.”
The boat cut through the dark. Away from the fire. Away from the name Blackwood. Away from everything.
Sinner kissed my forehead. “You’re free, Angel. No more clubs. No more blood. Just you and me.”
I should’ve felt relief. I didn’t.
My phone buzzed. In my pocket. The one I thought I lost.
Unknown number.
One text.
*NICE TRY, DAUGHTER. FIRE DOESN’T KILL WHAT’S ALREADY DEAD. SEE YOU AT DAWN. -MOM*
Rivera. Alive.
Sinner saw it. His whole body went still.
He looked at the horizon. At the first light of dawn bleeding across the water.
Then he looked at me. Gun-barrel eyes. No fear. Just promise.
“She’s not done,” he said. “Which means we’re not either.”
He stood. Took my hand. Pulled me to the bow of the boat.
Wind in our hair. Blood on our skin. The ring between us.
“Last stand,” he said. “Her and me. No clubs. No armies. Just blood for blood.”
Dawn broke. And on the shore, a single figure waited.
Rivera. In a white dress. Gun in her hand. Smiling.
Sinner squeezed my hand once. Then let go.
“Stay on the boat,” he said.
“No,” I said. Stepped onto the sand beside him. “Blood for blood. Remember? I’m your wife. Not your hostage.”
Rivera raised the gun. Aimed at Sinner’s heart.
“One of you dies,” she said. “Pick which one.”
Sinner stepped forward. Put himself between us.
“Pick me,” he said. “Always me.”
I raised my gun too. Aimed at Rivera.
“Pick her,” I said. “Always her.”
Rivera laughed. “You think love wins? It doesn’t. Power does.”
The three guns stayed raised.
And then the sand behind Rivera shifted.
A hand reached up. Grabbed her ankle.
Diablo. One-handed. Burned. Alive.
He smiled up at her. “Missed me, sister?”
- Writer
