The Devil’s Chaos (The Brotherhood #2)

7. Seven

7

SEVEN

KAI

P laying by the rules was not my strong suit. I knew Archer would be pissed if he found out, but the minute I locked eyes with Haven Benson, the daughter of the dirtbag kingpin of The Collectors, I couldn’t resist. I had full intentions to observe. After all, that’s what I was there for.

It was simple.

In and out.

Observe interactions of that lowlife family, so technically, Haven was included.

Or at least that’s what I had convinced myself.

But then, it wasn’t that simple.

As I watched her dance, something inside of me shifted. Her dark hair cascaded down her back like a midnight river, and her eyes locked onto mine in a hypnotic trance. I followed her to her dressing room, unable to resist the pull she had over me. Her eyes were deep forest green and flickered like sunlight filtered through leaves, like rings of silver encasing still summer water. As we stood face to face, her unflinching defiance ignited an unfamiliar thrill within me. But my excitement turned to rage when I witnessed how her piece-of-shit brother, Alexander, treated her—pimping her out to his greaseball friends and, interestingly enough, to Mila’s father, who I had already been tasked with watching. In theory, Archer couldn’t fault me for following Haven, as it also meant keeping an eye on Winston Grey and anyone affiliated with The Collectors. But deep down, I knew the truth—I was drawn to Haven like a moth to a flame, and now my mission had become entangled with something more dangerous than I could have ever imagined.

It was a good thing; red flags were green in my world.

When I saw Alexander drag her back into the room like she was nothing but a piece of meat, not even human, I was filled with rage. And fuck if this seething hot chaos that flowed in my blood didn’t lead me to do something about it. Sneaking into the VIP room next door, I lit a cigarette and carelessly threw it on the chic couch, watching with satisfaction as the flames devoured the velvet. The fire wrapped around the couch within minutes like a hungry predator consuming its prey. The crackling of the fire echoed loudly in the small room, drowning out any other sound as the smoke billowed upward, filling the air with a toxic, acrid scent. Once the fire alarms started and the sprinklers kicked on, I knew that was my cue to mingle with the crowd and disappear out the front door. I relished in the chaos I had created, watching as panicked patrons fled the club and Collectors members scrambled to extinguish the blaze. Waiting in my Impala outside, I knew she would eventually emerge, frightened and vulnerable. Sure, I was reckless, but that’s why it paid to have Theo, a tech genius and fellow psycho, who could delete any evidence of my actions.

“Tell me you’re not calling because you need me to bail you out,” Theo answered.

“The night is still young,” I joked. “I need you to delete the camera feed from when I went into Haven’s dressing room?—”

“The fuck! What do you mean you went into her dressing room? What the fuck are you thinking, man?” he exclaimed.

“Relax, that’s not even the best part.”

“I can’t wait.”

“I need you to do your little nerdy magic and delete all the camera footage from inside and outside the club from tonight.”

“Wanna tell me why I need to do that?”

“Because I may have set a fire.”

“A fucking fire, Kai!” Theo asked as he coughed, and it sounded like he was mid-sip of a drink when he started coughing.

“It was a small fire.”

“Archer is going to kill you,” he managed to say through his coughing fit.

“Can you do it or not?” I challenged him, letting my gaze fall on a group of barely clothed dancers that had stumbled out of the front entrance.

“Of course, I can. I hope you know what you’re doing.”

“When have I ever let Archer or The Brotherhood down? I know what the hell I’m doing.”

“Okay, man,” Theo sighed, and the sound of the keyboard clacked in the background before he continued, “Footage deleted. Anything else?”

“Just the information on her.”

“I’ll send you what I have. To be honest, there isn’t a lot. It looks like daddy dearest kept her pretty locked up and under his or Alexander’s control. I’m not sure what you’re looking for, but are you sure it’s smart to poke the beehive?”

“I’ve been poking beehives my whole life, why stop now?” I chuckled darkly as my gaze fixated on Haven, still in her tiny but ripped black bodysuit, drenched from head to toe, walking barefoot toward the back of the building. “Let’s poke this beehive and see if we can’t get the Queen to emerge.”

“Call me if you need backup.”

“Will do.” I hung up and tossed my phone into the cup holder, never taking my eyes off Haven. She stopped suddenly, her body tensing as she turned around sharply, her gaze piercing through the night as if searching for an unseen threat. I saw how she paused and scanned the parking lot like a frightened lamb surrounded by wolves. She could sense my presence, but she couldn’t see me.

Shaking her head, she quickly got into her Range Rover and sped off into the night. I followed at a safe distance as she hastily navigated through the busy streets.

She was a clever girl who knew someone was following her, so when she almost collided with another car, I slowed down just enough for her to think that she had lost me or that I was a figment of her imagination. Eventually, she pulled into the parking garage of an upscale high-rise apartment complex that looked expensive and difficult to get into. I parked across the street and scrolled through the files Theo had sent to my phone. Thankfully, it didn’t take long for me to find her address, which included her penthouse number, 7201, and the code needed to access the elevator that would go to her floor.

As the rain began to fall, I crossed the street, and a soft drizzle danced on the wet pavement, creating an otherworldly glow as I entered the building. The sound of my boots against the pavement echoed through the empty foyer, and the security guard barely spared me a glance as I stepped into the elevator, punching in her code and riding it to the twentieth floor. The ascent was smooth and silent, the only sound being the gentle hum of the elevator moving upward. When the doors slid open to reveal a luxurious hallway adorned with expensive artwork and elegant lighting, I could hear the muffled sound of music coming from one of the units. Otherwise, the floor seemed eerily quiet.

I followed the sequence of numbers on the door until I arrived at 7201. Taking a deep breath, I raised my hand to knock but hesitated. What was I hoping to accomplish by seeking out Haven in her home? Was it curiosity or something more primal driving me?

Whatever it was, I jimmied the lock and stepped into her lavish penthouse. My senses were on high alert as I cautiously navigated through it, straining my ears to listen for her presence. Quietly moving through the apartment, I admired the elegance of everything. The rich ebony flooring and ornate Victorian furnishings exuded an air of decadence and wealth. It was perfectly arranged, a fa?ade of perfection hiding a sinister truth.

Her life wasn’t her own, and it never had been.

This space was the only thing she had control over, and it showed.

Standing in the shadows, I barely breathed as I watched her pour herself a glass of whiskey.

Then another.

And one more for good measure.

When she undressed, I watched her like a wolf watching their prey.

Unmoving.

Silent.

Obsessed.

Hungry.

She peeled off her torn black bodysuit, and my eyes drifted from her perfect round tits, over each curve and angle of her body, down to her delicate feet as she moved with a fluid grace while she meandered through her bedroom, her movements unhurried yet purposeful. She was a contradiction in every sense of the word, a delicate flower blooming in the midst of a battlefield. I couldn’t tear my gaze from her, even if I were a more honorable man.

Which I wasn’t.

There was a vulnerability in her, a weariness that transcended physical exhaustion. Her eyes held a dark storm of emotions, a tempest of fear and defiance, resignation and rebellion. I saw her not as a pampered princess of a cursed bloodline, but as a woman trapped in a gilded cage, yearning for freedom amidst the suffocating confines of her own life. She seemed unaware of the danger lurking in the shadows, closing in on her like a predator stalking its prey. My gaze followed her every gesture, every subtle shift of expression, as if trying to unravel the enigma that was her .

What secrets did she hold?

What demons haunted her in the dead of night?

Did she sit up at night, drowning herself in whiskey? Or did she wake up in a cold sweat looking for monsters in the dark?

I watched as she settled on her plush bed, the light from the TV casting a hazy glow over her features. Her eyes, usually sharp and guarded, now held a softness that tugged on something deep within me. She reached out to the nightstand, grabbing a worn photograph. She stared at it with a mixture of longing and sorrow. I strained to see the image from my vantage point in the shadows, but it was too distant to make out any details. She opened her end table drawer and slid the photo inside before closing it and heading toward her bathroom. Once she closed the door, I waited until I heard the shower turn on, and a few seconds more, before walking swiftly toward the end table.

I needed to see what caused her eyes to look so vulnerable, what memory haunted her so vividly, like a ghost in the dark. The photo was old and faded, the edges curling slightly from age and wear. In it, a younger version of Haven smiled brightly next to a woman with dark hair who had her arm wrapped protectively around Haven’s shoulders. They looked happy and carefree, a stark contrast to the woman drowning her sorrows in alcohol. Who was this woman who held such a significant place in her heart? What tragedy befell their idyllic existence together, shattering it into fractured memories that haunted her as she stared at the photo, her eyes glistening with unshed tears?

I rifled through the bottom drawer, a wicked grin spreading across my face as I discovered an arsenal of sex toys meticulously arranged in a neat little row. Haven’s collection was impressive, spanning a variety of sizes and shapes. Some were small and discreet, while others were larger and more obvious, meaning from the design and color alone, they were meant for different occasions. The thought of her pleasuring herself with these had my cock throbbing against the confines of my jeans. I picked up a hot pink one and brought it to my nose, inhaling the intoxicating scent of her skin, mingling with the heady aroma of her arousal. A guttural groan escaped my lips as vivid fantasies consumed me. I imagined her using it on herself, her fingers working it inside of her, rubbing it against her sensitive clit, the wet sounds of her moaning, her body trembling with pleasure. My hand moved almost instinctively, stroking my growing erection as I tasted the cool silicone, tasting her . My hunger grew stronger with each fantasy that played in my mind.

She was still in the shower, but her scent permeated the room; the smell of vanilla and sugar, with a hint of amber, floated through the air, driving me wild. I sprawled on her bed, letting her sweet fragrance envelop me. As the warm water of the shower cascaded down her body, I envisioned it was my mouth and tongue trailing over every inch of her skin. Her green eyes would widen in shock and desire, her body tensing as I licked and sucked her flesh. I would kiss my way down her stomach as my hands left trails of fire on her skin. I’d feel her shivering under my touch, her moans filling the air as I sucked her perfectly pink nipples that hardened under my ministrations. I pictured her on her knees with her pussy glistening as she stroked herself with the toy. Her soft moans would crescendo into cries of ecstasy as she climaxed.

The vision pushed me over the edge. Stiffening, my cum spurted from me in powerful jets that coated my hand. In the throes of one of the most intense orgasms I’d ever experienced alone, the remnants of Haven’s scent clung to my nose and the sheets around me. I couldn’t help but wonder if she had experienced the same kind of pleasure during her moment of release.

The shower stopped abruptly. Panic surged through me as I heard the faint sound of her toweling off. Hastily zipping up my jeans and straightening the bedspread, I pocketed the toy—a token soaked in her arousal—to tide me over until I could bury myself deep inside her.

With measured steps, I retreated to my hiding spot outside her bedroom door. Holding my breath, I watched as she emerged from the bathroom, wrapped in a pink towel. She let the towel fall to the floor with effortless grace, standing naked and dripping wet for a tantalizing moment before slipping into a black band T-shirt without bothering with panties.

Every nerve in my body pulsated with a desperate hunger to devour her, to taste the sweetness between her thighs.

But I resisted.

Soon, I would claim her as my own.

It didn’t matter if she was aware of it yet.

The beast inside of me had a taste of lamb, and I wouldn’t stop until she was screaming my name.

My desire for her had become an all-consuming firestorm, threatening to tear me apart. It was a feeling I wasn’t familiar with, but I liked the pain. I managed to stay composed, remaining hidden as she made her way to the bar and poured herself another glass of whiskey. As she sat on her bed, with her toned legs sprawled out, the light from the TV casting shadows across her flawless skin, she was completely unaware of my presence or how close she was to being devoured by my insatiable hunger. I knew this unrelenting craving would eventually consume us—but until then…I remained cloaked in darkness— waiting … watching … wanting …