Twisted Loyalties

RAFAEL POV You know that moment when you realize you’re in too deep? Yeah. That happened the second I locked eyes with Cassian DelaVega. He was sitting in the back of his private club, legs crossed, dressed in a black-on-black suit that screamed money and murder. The room smelled like expensive smoke and sweat, and I swear time slowed the moment he tilted his head at me. I told myself I’d be fine. I’d faced worse. Cartels. Gunrunners. Dirty cops. Hell, I once crawled out of a drug tunnel with a bullet in my thigh and a kilo strapped to my chest. But nothing, I mean nothing, had prepared me for the way Cassian looked at me. Like he already owned me. “Luca Rios,” I said, sliding into the seat across from him. The alias felt smooth on my tongue. Like a lie I’d told too many times. Cassian watched me. Didn't speak for a moment. Just tapped his glass with a ringed finger and raised an eyebrow like I’d walked in late to his funeral. “I don’t like being kept waiting,” he said, voice low and smooth. I leaned back in the chair and met his stare without flinching. “I don’t like being shot at. Life’s full of compromises.” That made his lips twitch. Almost a smile. Almost. “I hear you cleaned up Ortega’s mess.” “Cleaned? No. But I took out three of his men. Left their bodies in a dumpster behind 8th Street. Thought you’d appreciate the gesture.” He nodded slowly. “You’re cocky.” “And you’re cautious. That’s why you’re still alive.” He smirked then. A real one. “Interesting. Most men try to flatter me. You insult me instead.” “I don’t flatter men I don’t respect.” “And yet, here you are.” Touché. --- He didn’t trust me. I knew that walking in. But I’d already gotten farther than most agents ever had. Close. Too close. My job was to infiltrate, gather evidence, and bring him down. But standing in front of him… something shifted. Cassian was dangerous. Not just with a gun, but with how easily he read people. How effortlessly he got under your skin and made you want to belong to him. Even if it destroyed you. “You’re either the real deal,” he said finally, “or a dead man walking. I like both.” He stood and walked around the table, circling me like I was some shiny new toy he hadn’t figured out how to break yet. He stopped behind me, leaned close. “Come with me.” I didn’t hesitate. Because hesitation in his world gets you shot. --- We walked through the back halls of Club Sinistro. Red light glowed under the doors, moans filtered from private rooms. Lust, power, and secrets clung to the walls like smoke. He opened a door and motioned me inside. “Test time,” he said. The room was dim. A man knelt in the center, blindfolded, naked, trembling. His body was marked with fresh lashes. There was a collar around his throat. One Cassian had probably fastened himself. "This is Julian,” Cassian said casually. “He’s been bad lately. Would you like to punish him for me?” I stared at him. Then at the man on the floor. This wasn’t about obedience. It was about power. About control. About seeing what I’d do when offered dominance on a silver f*****g platter. “No,” I said. Cassian tilted his head. “No?” “You want someone to hurt? Hurt yourself. I don’t get off on breaking what’s already broken.” I turned to face him. “But if you want a challenge… try me.” He smiled. A slow, dangerous curve of his lips. “Well,” he murmured. “Aren’t you fun.” --- He didn’t f**k me that night. He didn’t even touch me. But his eyes did. They slid over my body like a promise. One that said, "Soon." And I hated how much I wanted him to. --- Three nights later, I was in. Not just in the club. I was in his orbit. His inner circle. He had me shadowing deals, checking shipments, cleaning up his messes. I was earning his trust. Fast. But the truth was, I wasn’t just pretending anymore. Not completely. There was a pull between us. Raw. Physical. Dangerous. He tested me. Constantly. “I could kill you in your sleep,” I said to him once, after a quiet dinner in his penthouse. He leaned forward, eyes locked on mine. “You wouldn’t.” “How do you know?” “Because if you do, you’ll never know what it feels like when I finally take you apart. I swallowed hard. He was right. --- I was f*****g drowning. The agency thought I was gaining access. Getting intel. But all I was getting was his hands on me. His voice in my head. His scent in my lungs. One night, we ended up alone in the club office after a deal went sideways. His men were dead. I had blood on my hands. Real blood. He looked at me, chest rising and falling, pupils blown wide. “You like this life.” I shook my head. “I hate it.” “But you’re good at it.” He walked up to me, placed a hand on my chest. I didn’t stop him. “You want to know what I see when I look at you?” he asked. “What? He leaned in close. His lips brushed my ear. “Someone just like me.” And then he kissed me. Rough. Deep. Unforgiving. I kissed him back like I wanted to kill him. Maybe I did. Maybe I didn’t. --- That same night, my phone buzzed. A burner line. Only one person had the number—my handler. The message read: **“Pull out now. They’re burning the mission. He knows.”** I froze. I wasn’t sure if my blood had gone cold, or if it had just stopped moving altogether. I turned to look at Cassian. He was standing by the window, shirt open, cigarette burning low. “I need to ask you something,” I said. He didn’t turn. Just flicked ash into a tray. “Ask.” “You ever been betrayed by someone close to you?” He turned then. Slowly. Those dark eyes locked on mine. And he said, “Every man I’ve ever trusted put a knife in my back.” He walked toward me. Reached into his coat. And pulled something out It wasn’t a weapon. It was a badge. **My badge.** Federal Agent. Rafael Moretti. My blood went ice.. He looked at me. Dead in the eye. “I know who you are.”