The Devil in a Suit
936 Words
Chapter 17: The Devil in a Suit
Lily didn’t knock.
She pushed the Dean’s office door open like she owned the place, flash drive clutched in her sweaty palm. Her heart was pounding, but her eyes were steel.
Dean River looked up from his laptop, surprised. Then amused.
“Well, if it isn’t Miss Linton. To what do I owe the pleasure?”
Lily walked to his desk and dropped the flash drive onto it. “I think you already know.”
He arched a brow. “Is this some kind of game?”
“No.” Her voice was sharp. Clear. “This is a warning.”
He leaned back in his leather chair, folding his hands. “I see Blake’s rubbed off on you.”
Lily didn’t flinch. “He’s missing. And I have a feeling you know why.”
There was a flicker of something in his eyes. Just for a second.
Then he smiled. Cold. Rehearsed. “That boy has always been reckless. Bound to make enemies.”
“Enemies like you?” she snapped. “Like the men who pinned him in the parking garage last night?”
The Dean stood, slow and deliberate, walking around his desk until he stood just inches from her.
“You’re out of your depth, Miss Walker”
“No,” she said, lifting her chin. “You are. Because I’ve seen what’s on that drive. I know everything. The bribes. The assaults you covered up. The careers you destroyed.”
He chuckled, soft and dangerous. “You think one little flash drive changes anything?”
“I’ve backed it up. Five different ways. If anything happens to me or Blake, it all goes public.”
His jaw ticked. That smile slipped just a fraction.
Bingo.
“So here’s what’s going to happen,” Lily continued, adrenaline roaring in her veins. “You’re going to release a statement saying Blake Holloway is on leave due to an administrative error. You’re going to stop the threats. And you’re going to resign.”
River’s face hardened.
“You’re playing with fire, girl.”
“I’m not afraid of being burned anymore.”
She walked out of that office on legs that shook the entire way back to her dorm.
She didn’t stop until she was behind locked doors, heart pounding, knees giving out as she sank to the floor.
She had done it.
She had stood toe-to-toe with the devil.
But her victory tasted like ash.
Because Blake was still missing.
And now she had to find him.
It was past midnight when her phone lit up.
Unknown number.
1 attachment.
Her fingers trembled as she opened it.
A video.
Static.
Then—
Blake.
Strapped to a chair. Blood on his temple. A cut lip. Breathing heavy, but alive.
A voice off camera: “You think she’ll come for you?”
Blake: “She’ll burn this whole place down.”
Lily’s breath hitched.
Another voice: “Let her try.”
The screen went black.
Lily didn’t cry.
She burned.
She stared into that darkness and made a choice.
If they wanted war, they just got one.
She didn’t sleep that night. She planned.
Every connection Blake ever mentioned. Every contact Sienna once used. She dug deep—into dark corners of the web, into encrypted messages, into favors no one should owe.
By morning, she had a name.
Dr. Nolan Virex. Ex-military. Now a private consultant for security firms.
And the man Blake once said “owed him a life.”
She found his contact.
She made the call.
“Blake Holloway is missing,” she said.
A pause.
Then: “Where?”
That evening, she met Nolan in a back alley bar on the edge of town.
He was tall, broad, scars down his knuckles like he carved violence for a living. But his eyes softened when she said Blake’s name.
“He was always the kind of i***t who made enemies,” Nolan muttered. “Where’s the last location?”
She showed him the video. He watched it once.
“That’s an old processing building. Abandoned after the fire five years ago.”
He grabbed his coat. “Come on.”
“You’re bringing me?”
He looked at her like she was insane. “Do you love this kid?”
Her silence was answer enough.
“Then yeah. You’re coming. He’d kill me if I left you behind.”
The warehouse was colder than death.
Nolan led the way, gun drawn, silent as a shadow.
Lily followed close, heart racing, ears straining.
They turned the corner—
And there he was.
Blake.
Slumped, but awake.
His eyes widened the moment they met hers. “Lily—!”
Two guards lunged at Nolan. One punch, one kick, and they were down. Nolan was fast—brutal.
Lily ran to Blake, untying him with shaking hands.
“You’re hurt,” she whispered.
His hand rose to her cheek, thumb brushing it like she was the only thing tethering him to life.
“I told you,” he rasped. “You should’ve run.”
“I told you,” she whispered back, “I don’t run.”
They escaped into the night.
Bruised. Shaken.
But together.
And when they collapsed in the back of Nolan’s car, Lily didn’t speak.
She just leaned into him. Felt his arms around her. Felt the heat of him, the pain, the rage simmering just beneath the surface.
“Are we safe now?” she asked.
Blake looked out the window.
“No,” he said. “But we’re ready.”
- Writer
