Page 60 of Twisted Devotion

No wonder the boy reminded me of him.

I press a hand to my jaw, rubbing slowly. When I open my eyes, my voice is steady. “Leave him where he is. Increase his pay.”

Matteo nods once. “Done.”

I stare out the window, fingers drumming against my knee. “Has he had his first kill yet?”

Matteo’s mouth pulls into a slight frown. “No. He’s still green.”

I stare ahead at the road. The city stretches before us, the sky thick with heavy clouds, threatening rain. After a few more seconds of contemplation, my decision is made.

“Call him,” I say. “Tell him to meet us where we’re going.”

“Yes, boss.”

Matteo takes his eyes off the road just long enough to make the call, reaching for the Bluetooth on the dashboard and fixing it in his ear.

“The boss has ordered you to meet us at…” His voice drops to a low murmur, delivering the order without explanation.

James is family within a family. Ken’s blood runs through his veins. Whether he realizes it or not, he’s under my protection.Allmy men are, but now, him more than most.

I take care of my own. And part of that means making sure he learns—fast.

The rest of the ride is spent in silence. I close my eyes, my thoughts drifting elsewhere. The memory of Aria and the taste of her sweet pussy lingers, vivid and consuming. I bring my fingers to my nose and inhale deeply. The smell of her sex makes my cock twitch, and I already can’t wait to see her again. To find another reason to either punish or reward her.

When we finally reach the house, the place is quiet as we pull into the driveway.

Not abandoned, not empty—justquietin the particular way places are when they’ve never truly been lived in. Fresh paint. Clean walls. A house with no history.

Except for what I plan to do in the basement.

Matteo kills the engine. The air outside is thick and damp with the remnants of a storm that never came. I step out, boots crunching against gravel, and take in the house. Plain. Unremarkable. A place no one would think of searching.

But that’s not the only reason I bought it.

I got it to keep Aria away.

The memory of her in the shower—crying, scratching at her skin like she could scrub the horrors away—claws at the edges of my mind. It should’ve been a lesson, a moment to show her what this life truly means. And yet, even after telling her to get used to it, I don’t want her toseethis part of it. I don’t want her to witness men being tortured or having their brains blown out. I want her strong, not broken.

Matteo moves ahead, unlocking the door. The scent of new wood lingers inside. No furniture, no decoration. Just a house waiting to be filled.

Or in this case,used.

We head straight for the basement.

The stairs creak beneath our weight, the air growing colder with each step. A muffled whimper reaches my ears as we descend.

A single bulb flickers above, casting weak yellow light over the room. The dockman is tied to a chair in the center, his head slumped forward, his breathing ragged.

I’ve been hunting him for weeks. And now, he’s here.

He’s in bad shape—not physically, but mentally. His shirt is stained with dark patches of sweat. As we approach, he lifts his head, eyes darting between us, wide and frantic.

I take my time stepping forward. He stiffens. His wrists look raw from struggling, and his split lip is crusted with dried blood. His face is bruised, but not badly—my men followed orders. I wanted him shaken, not broken.

Matteo leans against the wall, arms crossed, silent. He won’t interfere unless I tell him to.

I crouch in front of the man, elbows resting on my knees.

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