Total pages in book: 57
Estimated words: 52851 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 264(@200wpm)___ 211(@250wpm)___ 176(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52851 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 264(@200wpm)___ 211(@250wpm)___ 176(@300wpm)
One side of his face was completely melted. He looked like something out of a horror movie. Like his flesh had been devoured by fire or acid, twisting his features into something barely human. Scar tissue pulled tight across his skull, warping his expression into a permanent sneer. He had the kind of face that made children cry, the kind of face that haunted nightmares. It was also clear that he hadn’t been able to seek medical attention for it, and a scar that’d normally make my heart break for the person living with it… Well, karma worked in wonderous ways.
Ironically, his appearance wasn’t even his biggest problem, because now the entire world believed he was the leader of a gay orgy suicide cult. In his world, that wasn’t just an insult, that was a death sentence. His allies would start questioning him, would start wondering if he had gone soft. More than likely, they’d already decided he was losing control.
And once doubt crept in, it spread like a disease.
His men would hesitate before following orders. His lieutenants would second-guess his judgment. His rivals would start circling like vultures, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. And that was more dangerous than anything we could have done to him physically. Because men like Demingo didn’t fear bullets, they feared weakness. They feared irrelevance, and losing their grip on power, so we just had to keep pushing. We had to do it hard enough and relentlessly enough until he had no choice but to come out and play.
Chapter 9
Jagger
"You’re what?”
We were sitting in the dimly lit church on our compound, the heavy scent of burning wax and dust mingling in the air. Tension sat thick between the wooden pews, pressing in on us like an invisible weight. Preacher hadn’t had the chance to talk to Kyle yet, not with all the chaos we’d been dealing with, and now she was dropping this bombshell on us.
“No fucking way.”
Kyle stood in front of me, hands on her hips, her eyes blazing with defiance. The fire in them told me she was ready for a fight.
“Look,” she snapped, her voice low but edged with steel. “These people are part of this bullshit. All I have to do is go to this gathering, blend in, get information, and get out. It’s as simple as that, and also something we’ve all done a million times.”
I shook my head, the knot in my chest tightening. “And what if they recognize you? What if they decide you’re the one they want to send fuck knows where?”
The room felt like it was closing in. I glanced at Preacher, watching him battle with this just as much as I was. It had been only a couple of days since we’d seen the shape Piper came back in, her body broken and bruised, and Bo taking a bullet and disappearing. This was real—it was life and death—and she wanted to walk right into it?
“They won’t,” Kyle insisted, her voice sharp with frustration. “These are the grunts and the errand boys. And I’m a professional, Jagger.” She stepped closer, her chin tilting up defiantly. “I’ve done this a million times.”
I shot up so fast my chair clattered to the ground behind me. “I don’t care if you’ve done it a million times. You could get fucking hurt!” My voice came out as a roar, sharp enough to cut through the tense silence.
The others flinched at my outburst, a few sucking in quiet breaths, but I didn’t care. This wasn’t some game.
Preacher finally broke the silence. “Go with her, Jagger.”
Kyle and I both snapped our heads toward him, disbelief flashing between us.
“No fucking way,” Kyle protested, shaking her head before I even had the chance to say anything.
“I’m in.”
I didn’t wait for her argument. I turned on my heel and walked out of the room, my pulse hammering in my ears. I needed space and needed to clear my head. Something about this felt wrong, like a whisper in the back of my mind telling me this was a mistake. But Kyle was determined, and if she was going in, then I was making sure she got out of it alive.
My jaw ached from clenching it as we approached the building. The high-end cars lined up along the street were a parade of wealth and corruption. Bentleys, Lamborghinis, Rolls-Royces—it screamed money, power, and bad intentions.
Duke had gotten us a Bentley SUV to blend in, and now, seeing the scene in front of us, I understood why. This wasn’t just a casual meetup, this was going to be a fucking production.
Kyle walked beside me, her fingers laced through mine, her demeanor the picture of calm. Her other hand casually brushed through her hair as if the only thing on her mind was whether it was still perfectly styled.