𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥'𝐬 𝐒𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐭 𝟐 | 𝟏𝟖+

Cʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ Tʜʀᴇᴇ: Fᴀᴛʜᴇʀ Oꜰ Tʜᴇ Yᴇᴀʀ

Stepping up to the mirror, I run my fingers through my hair, teasing it into waves that spill over my shoulders. I paint my face with- smokey shadow smudged around my eyes, cheeks highlighted, lips stained in my signature red. I slip into a shimmering black dress. The back is nonexistent, just a few thin straps criss crossing over my shoulder blades.

I take a final look, making sure every detail is just right. I've learned just how to use my looks as a weapon when I need to. Men are so easy to manipulate when they're thinking with the wrong head.

I take a deep breath, trying to calm myself down. It's been a long time since I've gone out in Vegas. I've spent most of my time living in the shadows, consumed by my mission, killing as many Ramirez as I could. Going to this event is just another step towards my goal. Another link in the chain that will finally lead me to Alonzo.

Grabbing my phone, I quick-dial my security. "Need a car ready in five."

I hang up and reach under my dress, I slide the sleek knife from the garter holster, checking the blade with a practiced flick of my wrist. Razor sharp. I slip it back in. On the other side, I adjust the pistol nestled snugly in its own holster, ensuring it's within easy reach. I retrieve my rifle from its case, and sling the strap over my shoulder, the weapon resting comfortably against my back.

Some might call it paranoid, but in this world, there's no such thing as paranoid. The minute you let your guard down, that's when they strike. And I won't make that mistake again.

I head to the front door, stilettos clicking against the marble floors. I nod to my guard as he opens it for me, and I step out into the warm desert night. I slip into the back seat of the SUV. Amell gets behind the wheel while Ramos rides shotgun. The drive doesn't take long, and soon we are pulling up to one of the hottest clubs in town.

Ramos hops out first, scanning the area. He gives a subtle nod and the rest of us exit and head for the entrance. An ordinary citizen can't just stroll into a place like this with a rifle on their back.

But I'm no ordinary citizen.

I walk right past the velvet rope and beefy bouncer. The poor guy doesn't dare say a word as we brush past him. All eyes swing our way as we walk through the horde of bodies.

In the distance I see the high ranking members of the Demonios cartel sprawled out across the couches in the VIP section like they run this city. They're passing around bottles of overpriced champagne and eyeing me up as I approach. I just give them a cold stare right back.

I walk up to the section, my guardians in tow. With a couple hand signals, my guys fan out to the edges of the roped-off section. I grab the photo of my target from Amell and plop down on one of the couches, not intimidated in the slightest. Resting my gun on my lap, I make sure they get a good look at the heat I'm packing.

"Well...If it isn't the infamous Cat Caine," their leader Martez says, looking me up and down. "As beautiful as they say."

I force a smile, playing nice for now. "Why, thank you Martez. You're too kind."

Martez lets his eyes linger on me for a moment. "I must say, that dress looks amazing on you. You have great taste."​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

I keep that fake smile plastered on as I lean in closer to him. "Let's cut the shit, shall we?" My voice is sickly sweet, but the flash in my eyes makes it clear I'm not here to play games.

Martez' grin wavers for just a second before the smug mask slips back into place. He tsks, taking a swig from his glass. "And here I thought ladies appreciated a little charm."