Page 16 of Twisted Devotion

I hesitate, but he doesn’t give me a choice. Ken dives into the fray, his body a blur of motion and gunfire. My heart screams to stay, but my feet betray me. I turn and sprint to the car, every step causing pain in my chest.

I shouldn’t look back.

But I do.

And I see it—the moment one of the attackers lunges at Ken—the glint of a blade. The knife plunging into his neck.

My breath catches. The world tilts.

I throw myself into the driver’s seat, shaking hands fumbling for the keys. Blood slicks my fingers, but I find them and twist. The engine roars to life, drowning out the chaos behind me.

Self-loathing surges in every heartbeat. How did I not see this coming? How did I let this happen?

The car lurches forward as I slam the gas. The docks vanish in the rearview mirror, swallowed by fire and smoke.

And bodies.

The bodies ofmymen.

Pain claws through my chest, vision blurring. My shirt clings to me, soaked with blood, but I don’t ease up on the wheel.

The tattoo flashes in my mind again—vivid, unmistakable.

The serpent.

I know who’s behind this now.

My hand trembles as I grab my phone, bloody fingertips smearing the screen. Each breath feels heavier, a mix of pain and rage coursing through me.

The line clicks.

Before the voice on the other end can speak, I snap, “We need to meet.”

5

ARIA

The smell of smoke clings to me like a second skin.

No matter how often I wash my hair, the acrid stench lingers, defying every shampoo and soap. Maybe it’s in my head, but it doesn’t matter —it’s there, haunting me.

It’s been days, and I still feel like I’m suffocating.

I stare into the mirror, my reflection foreign. Dark circles hollow out my eyes, the sheen of fear coating my skin. My fingers shake as I twist my hair into a loose knot, but even that feels futile.

The suite should feel like a fortress. Velvet chairs, a marble bathroom, and guards posted at every possible entrance scream luxury and security.

But none of it matters.

I don’t feel safe.

I don’t think I ever will again.

Someone tried to kill me.

The shrill ring of my phone slices through the silence, sharp and invasive. and I know it’s Marco before I even glance at the screen. He’s the only one with my new number.

My hand hesitates over the phone, but I force myself to pick it up. With a deep breath, I tap the green button.

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