CHAPTER NINE -

CARLOS POV

"Carlos." Damien's voice drops dangerously low.

"How do you know she's precise with her cuts?"

I don't reply. Just to humor myself-a tiny bit of fun.

His eyes dart between the road and me like I'm a dead man walking

"Don't tell me she stabbed you?!"

There it is. I smile.

"It's not fucking funny!"

Exactly. I restart the car.

"I watched a clip of her cutting off a guy's dick."

"Oh my God."

"For strategic purposes." I keep my tone light.

"And unlike me, Thalia only punishes bad guys. She does a good job at it."

"You watched a video of someone you call a kitten castrate a man?"

"He tried to rape her."

"You watched a video of someone you call a kitten, castrate a poor man?"

"For strategic purposes.And he isn't a poor man."

His eyes narrow

"He tried to rape her"

"Kill her now or that will be you next!"

"Can't. She's planning something"

He raises both brows at me

"A secret. Apparently It's to die for"

I watch the corner of his lip lift

"You're Insane!"

"I'm prepared. There's a difference." I straighten on my seat.

"Insane!" He deadpans

"This isn't insanity, it's long-term investment strategy. Portfolio diversification. I'm basically Warren Buffett, but with more murder and significantly better fashion sense."

Damien stares at me for a long moment, then starts laughing.

"What?"

"Nothing. Nothing at all." He repeats ruffling his hair

"Just wondering if I should start planning your funeral now or wait until she actually stabs you."

"She won't stab me."

"Carlos, she has sixteen different plans to kill you pinned to a board in her apartment."

"Fourteen. I counted."

"THAT'S YOUR TAKEAWAY?!" His hands fly off the wheel momentarily before gripping it again.

"That I miscounted your own death schemes?!"

"Gotta be thorough."

"You're delusional!" He takes a shuddering breath.

"She's nobody Damien."

"Listen to me." I do

. "People like Emma-whose body you left in the freezer for eight hours before giving him a knife to kill you-he just begged for his life. That's 'nobody.'"

I can't ignore him. His words are wrapped in genuine concern. Not loud anymore, but thunderous.

"Challenging Zara. Dethroning Marcus. Burning Santos' sons alive after nursing them back to health-they were all 'nobody.' They feared you. They knew you'd ruin them harder, so they gave up."

His jaw clenches.

"But Thalia..." He turns to face me fully.

"Damn daughter of nightshade. She's not afraid of you. You brought her to your apartment, made her your PA, gave her proof you've been stalking her-that fucking candle."

The fear in his eyes makes something uncomfortable twist in my chest.

"CARLOS, YOU'RE OBSESSED WITH HER! BEYOND THE OTHERS!"

There it is.

I know he thinks so. But she's just entertainment. The best I've had in years, admittedly.

The death of her family was unplanned. I didn't even know she existed until one of the boys mentioned her afterward. High schooler? Boring.

"Monitor her for three weeks," I told Damien six years ago.

"If nothing interesting happens, she dies."

But something interesting happened. Two weeks after her family's death, she started training for revenge.

What a thrillimg surprise.

"Shouldn't we tell her about Marcus?" Damien's voice cuts through my thoughts.

"Maybe it'll change her focus-"

"Don't you dare."

He opens his mouth, then closes it. I was harsh, but he'll deal with it.

Nothing is taking Thalia's focus away from me.

I've seen what she can do. Her first fight in the ring-seventeen years old with only five months of training. She was losing, bloodied and battered. Then her opponent pulled her hair.

She went straight for the woman's eyeballs. Dug her nails in deep, then slammed her opponent's head against the floor repeatedly. The sound of skull meeting concrete echoed as she scream at the lady while everyone watched in stunned silence felt like absolute sonata.

Perfect sound.

That venom from a seventeen-year-old was fascinating.

Now she's here, in my head. Carving herself into my bones.

"You zoned out." Damien's already driving toward Swallow Now.

"You don't see it." His voice softens. "I fear she'll ruin you. Ruin Viper Lane. Ruin everything we've worked for."

"I can't let her go," I admit, gripping his hand on the wheel.

"But her ending is set in stone. Death, brother. Just like the others."

His frustration returns, but he speeds toward our destination instead of arguing.

We arrive at Swallow Now by seven. The lounge is packed-Friday night crowd, drunk and rowdy. Perfect cover.

Shipment confirmation takes less than an hour. Oil contracts from Dubai, weapons from Bulgaria. All clean. All untraceable.

By nine, we're heading to the warehouse.

Damien's quiet. Unusual.

"You're planning my intervention, aren't you?"

"Thinking about it." He doesn't look at me.

"Or your eulogy. Haven't decided which."

"Touching."

"She followed you tonight." His knuckles are white on the wheel. "She knows now isn't when you go home."

My jaw clenches. I've lost men to her schemes. Been careful with information. If she got one of my veterans to talk, I'll have to eliminate multiple soldiers. Can't handle that loss right now.

Though part of me admires it. Keeps me sharp. Forces me to think harder.

"When you visit her tonight-be careful." Damien pulls into the warehouse district.

"Search for weapons she's gathered as your PA."

"She was my PA for less than an hour."

"It's Thalia!" His voice rises. "That's enough time, and you're too whipped to notice!"

"Whipped?! I haven't even fucked her!"

"Still whipped. You could've sent the guys."

Now I'm quiet.

He's right, and I hate it.

Damien pulls over suddenly. Puts the car in park and just sits there, staring at the steering wheel.

"What-"

"Do you remember what you told me?" This can't be good

"After Zara? You made me promise that if you ever got like her, I'd put a bullet in your head before it gets that far."

My blood runs cold.

"You're not shooting me, Damien."

"I know." He laughs, but there's no humor in it.

"That's the problem. I should. But I can't." I exhale. Ready to leave this car

"Just promise me one thing."

"What?"

"When she kills you-" His voice cracks. When, not if

"make sure she does it quick. I don't want you to suffer."

Warmth spreads through me. Qe fist bumb

I was furious this morning when she claimed to have a husband.

Almost drove to her house just to kill him but got a message.

I've stalked her as thoroughly as she's plotted against me. But for two months, I've been too preoccupied.

Tonight, I'll visit while she sleeps.

Nearly midnight when we finish. Books clean, shipments distributed. Everything smooth.

I drive alone to her apartment, blood pounding hot and fierce.

My hands are shaking on the steering wheel.

That's new.

I've killed men, burnt empires without my pulse rising. But the thought of seeing Thalia.

I don't feel fear.

So why does this feel like standing at the edge of something I can't come back from?

The anticipation is exquisite. What will I find? Anything but her husband is fine

The building comes into view. Dark except for a few scattered lights.

I park a block away. Walk the rest.

Standing outside her door now, key in hand. Her alarm already disarmed

My pulse thunders.

Hello, murderer.

CARLOS POV:

I can picture her in those sexy innocent pajamas. Compared to her dark ambitions, rage, and that vicious mouth, she does look feminine and dresses softly for bed.

I unlock the door with my copied keys, having already disabled the alarm. Her house sits close to a mountain, perfect for training and just a boat ride from Marcus... That name is buried, and I need to get her away from him. Soon.

My gun rests in my pocket, loaded and ready to eliminate that supposed husband. More reason for her to fuel her vendetta against me. I check her living room first...... no evidence of male's presence. I walk up to her bedroom, twelve stair steps away from living room

"Anything new?" Damien texts. Always worried. How he manages to play chess with her when he's this terrified is surprising. But he possesses patience I lack entirely.

My breathing becomes erratic before escalating to an uneven fire. There's my personal fire.

Exactly as I'd pictured her. Front naked with a blue short that says: Little pet. Curved ass pushed out, clutching the teddy bear that conceals her knife and gun like lifelines.

My body electrifies at the reality of her breast bare against that teddy.

I've sometimes watched her sleep & have the map of her naked body mastered. I didn't intend to, my doll just prefers sleeping stark naked or with lingerie sometimes. Giving me blue balls whenever I visit

"Clear, but still searching," I text back before tiptoeing to the basement entrance by her closet where she have her Manic on display. Images of her pear like tits surfaces again, making me adjust my jeans until crimson lighting greets me.

Entering the basement fully, The sight stops me cold. Smile warms up my cheeks & my heart pounds hard.  She's still obsessed.

More photographs of me than I last saw, plaster every surface. With me looking as handsome as I dressed for her.

Four years ago was when I noticed her stalking Me. By the third time I saw that little figure disguised as an old man, I decided to start dressing magnificiently, to give her a good shot. After all, she put in effort to not get caught.

Some images held in place with knives driven through my wrists, feet & face. Others with X's taped across my face.

But it's the centerpiece that makes my cock throb painfully against my jean.

A large framed image of me,with knife holes over my throat, pasted on a table, in the middle of the room like a shrine for her hatred.

Under it, candles burn down to stubs, wax pooled like dried blood. She's manic over my death & it makes me feel happy beyond imagination.

I step closer, trailing my finger at the edge of the frame, Welcoming the cold glass that bites my skin.

Every knife marks, wax pooling like dry blood, this room, they all look to me like a Romantic confession displayed in Tempest.

She has made me a king she worships with rage

My heart pounds, a thudding beat that craves to thank her. I imagine her standing here, gaze hotter than the lighting she put here, driving her knife into my throat. I adjust my cock as it strains at that image, swearing to ruin me, fury pulsing her blood, even at the mention of my name.  My pulse is a raging mess & I suddenly feel hot.

She doesn't just crave my death, she exalts it, a raging oracle of vengeance, and I feel honored, my body alive with the thrill & dedication of her hatred.

The pulse of her throat under my palm yesterday resurfaces, making my stomach knot. She'd kill me before letting me claim her, pound into that fair cunt, but if that's price to show her my appreciation of this obsession with killing me, I'd die happy being slaughtered by her hands.

"You're not searching. You just went to see her," Damien texts & I willfully ignore

I stare at the shrine a moment longer, drinking in the beautiful madness of it. This isn't just revenge plotting: it's art. She's turned her obsession with my death into something of idol

Behind me, she have changed position of my Floors plan & schedules. She even added Damien's to it but a face stops me dead....

No she didn't.... I bend down in admiration, letting the laughter flow. Orio's face smeared in red: Palm oil

Her hostility & vendetta just makes my cock throb for more. To fuck more attitude & anger into her.

"Both. She lied. No husband," I finally respond.

Then head back to her room after taking images of the King I am.

Every step towards her sleeping form makes me hard, body pulsing with electricity. I'm wrapped with urge to wake her up, claim her & fuck my appreciation deep into her whole being.

My girl is a worshipper but liar, and discovering that thrills me more than it should. No trace of any husband: no men's clothing, no toiletries, no photographs. The fact that I've been fooled, properly manipulated, makes me chuckle in admiration

She played me. Actually bloody played me.