Chapter 13
1331 Words
The night was warm, the kind of sticky Chicago summer air that clung to your skin like sweat and sin. DJ and his crew pushed through the heavy club doors and stepped out into the dark street. The smooth sounds of jazz faded behind them, replaced by the unmistakable sound of fists hitting flesh.
DJ froze. His jaw tensed.
Across the street, just outside Manny’s diner, three of Wyatt’s men had Manny pinned against the alley wall, taking turns throwing punches and kicks like he was a damn ragdoll. One of them had a pipe in hand, smacking it menacingly against his palm. They were laughing, cursing, yelling slurs loud enough to curdle blood.
“You think you don’t gotta pay, boy? Huh? You think you’re safe ‘cause the Black Devil’s back?”
“We oughta torch this whole place—with that pregnant b***h of yours still inside.”
DJ’s face didn’t change. He didn’t shout.
He moved.
With the smooth calm of a predator, DJ crossed the street. The ringleader didn’t even hear him coming until it was too late. DJ’s fist cracked against the back of his skull like a gunshot. The man dropped like a sack of bricks—dead weight crumpled to the pavement.
The others turned, stunned.
“What the—”
Before they could finish, DJ was on them.
The street exploded into chaos. Aron, Lamar, Shaun, and Dwight came in like a wave behind DJ. They met Wyatt’s goons in a violent collision of fists and rage.
DJ was a storm all on his own.
He ducked a swing and drove his elbow into one man’s nose—cartilage crunching under the blow. He spun and drove his knee into another’s gut, then sent a headbutt into a third’s jaw that knocked the man out cold.
A fourth thug lunged at him with a knife, but DJ sidestepped, grabbed the guy by the wrist, and twisted until the blade dropped. He slammed his forehead into the guy’s face, then threw him over his shoulder and onto the ground with a sickening crack.
Lamar let out a wild yell as he threw one man through a stack of wooden crates. Shaun ducked under a swing and jabbed a broken bottle into a goon’s thigh. Dwight laughed like a maniac as he tossed a small firecracker under their car, making it explode into sparks and chaos.
The streetlights flickered. A few onlookers screamed and scattered. Some stood frozen, unable to look away.
DJ stood at the center of it all—chest rising and falling, sweat beading across his temple, eyes dark with fury.
Wyatt’s men were retreating, limping and bleeding, dragging their unconscious with them like broken toys.
“Run,” DJ growled under his breath, “and tell your boss I’m just getting started.”
He turned, his breathing already steady again, and walked toward Manny.
The man was bloodied, lips split, one eye swollen nearly shut. DJ bent down and gently helped him up.
“You good?” DJ asked, brushing the dirt off his shirt.
Manny nodded weakly. “My… my wife…”
“She’s safe. Go to her. You don’t owe that son of a b***h a damn thing.”
Then DJ looked up.
And he saw her.
Aurelia.
She was standing at the edge of the small crowd that had gathered. Her blue eyes wide—not in fear, not in horror—but in awe. Her chest rose and fell slightly, her lips parted just the smallest bit. She wasn’t blinking.
She looked at DJ like a woman seeing something she wasn’t supposed to—but couldn’t look away from.
Admiration. Relief. And something else entirely… something darker.
Desire.
DJ held her gaze. He didn’t move.
She took one small step forward.
Then—sirens.
The shrill whine of approaching police cut through the night air like razors.
Aron grabbed DJ’s arm. “We gotta go, now.”
DJ nodded once, but not before looking at her one last time.
Aurelia opened her mouth, as if to call to him.
But Maybelle grabbed her wrist. “Lia—no. Come on.”
Aurelia stumbled back as Maybelle tugged her into the shadows, the look in her eyes lingering on DJ until he was swallowed by the alley’s darkness.
Aurelia’s breath still hadn’t settled.
The alley was darker now, the soft light from the diner’s broken sign barely reaching as Maybelle pulled her farther away from the scene. They moved quickly, but Aurelia kept looking back, trying to catch one last glimpse of him—DJ—before the night swallowed him whole again.
When they finally stopped two blocks away, hidden near the side of a quiet bakery, Maybelle spun around and placed both hands on Aurelia’s shoulders.
“What the hell were you doing?” she snapped. “You were gonna walk straight to him like it was nothing. Are you trying to get caught up in his mess again?”
“I wasn’t—” Aurelia’s voice cracked. She took a breath. “I didn’t mean to…”
Maybelle narrowed her eyes. “You forget who he is now?”
Aurelia shook her head. “No. I know exactly who he is… I just—”
She trailed off.
How could she explain what she saw? What she felt?
That wasn’t just some man fighting in the street. That was Devon James Spencer. The boy who used to sneak through her window when the thunderstorms scared him. The boy who held her hand while she read him books in the servant’s kitchen. The boy who kissed her goodbye nine years ago and promised he’d come back.
But tonight… he was no longer a boy.
He was a man now—her Black Devil.
Her heart was racing, but not from fear. She should’ve been horrified by the violence, the blood, the brutal way he moved through Wyatt’s men like a shadow of vengeance.
But she wasn’t.
She was captivated.
His body was power incarnate—broad chest, strong arms, that sharp jawline shadowed by a clean beard. And his eyes… God, his eyes hadn’t changed. They were still cold, unreadable—except when they landed on her. When they looked at her, the fire she saw there burned all the way down to her stomach.
She could still feel the imprint of his hands on her hips from the dance they shared earlier. Still feel his chest against her back, the low rumble of his breath near her ear, the way her skin lit up at his touch. It wasn’t just nostalgia—it was something deeper, something her body remembered before her mind did.
She closed her eyes.
“You’re flushed,” Maybelle said, staring at her. “You look like you just saw Jesus and the Devil had a baby.”
Aurelia blinked. “I think I saw something worse.”
Maybelle raised an eyebrow. “Worse?”
“Something I want,” she whispered.
Maybelle sighed. “Lia… don’t do this to yourself.”
Aurelia shook her head. “I thought I moved on. I thought… he forgot about me. But when he looked at me tonight…”
Maybelle folded her arms. “He’s dangerous now. You saw what he did.”
“I saw him protect someone who couldn’t protect himself. I saw him make those men run. I saw… who he’s become.”
Maybelle frowned. “You saw the outside. You don’t know what’s underneath all that muscle and silence anymore.”
“I don’t care,” Aurelia said quietly, looking down at her hands. “I waited for him. And part of me still is.”
The wind shifted. Somewhere in the distance, sirens still wailed. The night wasn’t done swallowing its secrets.
But as Aurelia stood in the quiet shadows, one thing was crystal clear in her chest.
DJ was back.
And her heart was already in trouble.
- Writer
