Without warning, I reached down and gave her ass a hard smack.
"That's for spray painting my car," I said.
Her breath hitched, and she bit her lip, trying to suppress a smile. "You're such a caveman."
"Caveman? How about this?" I said, smacking her...
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CALEB'S POV
Anastasia was playing a different game now.
I didn't know what her end goal was, but I knew better than to trust her blindly. She had always been unpredictable—a wildcard I used to enjoy having in my hand, but now, she felt like a loaded gun with the safety off.
She had been my dealer for a while now, the one who supplied me with exactly what I needed, no questions asked. She handled the transactions with a detached ease, as if pushing poison into people's veins was just another hobby. And for Anastasia, maybe it was. But lately, she had been distant, slipping in and out of my orbit like a shadow, and that made me wary. I couldn't afford any fuck-ups anymore.
I knew she wasn't in this for survival. No, Anastasia didn't need money for basic needs—for rent or food or paying off some desperate debt. That wasn't her game. She needed black money, the kind that couldn't be traced, the kind that gave her access to the real shit. The shit you can't just swipe a credit card for. Weapons. Bribes. Underground pleasures. Drugs. The kind of things that weren't meant for everyday people.
She wasn't just a dealer; she was a fucking addict too—an addict for chaos, for drugs, for danger, for the thrill.
And Cecylia—her best friend, once my right-hand—she knew it too. She saw what I saw. And yet, Cecylia had her own agenda. They both did.
Anastasia had always been reckless, but lately, her absence spoke louder than anything. When someone like her goes quiet, it isn't because they've gone straight. It's because they're planning something.
And I wasn't about to let myself be blindsided.
Not this time.
took another slow drag of my cigarette, exhaling the smoke in a lazy swirl as I tried to shake Chloe off my arm. She was clinging to me like she had something to prove, like she thought she was different from the rest. God, she was relentless. I could already feel the way her nails dug into my sleeve, her lips brushing against my jaw whenever she got the chance.
She wanted the chase. The game. But I didn't have the patience for that shit. The only reason she was even here was because she fit my type—mature, horny, experienced, and willing. I didn't do sweet. I didn't do innocence. And I sure as hell didn't do complications. I fucked women who knew exactly what they were in for. Women who didn't ask for more. And Chloe? She played her part well.
Still, tonight wasn't about her.
It was the last university opening night, and I wasn't in the mood to talk business. No gang shit, no fucking underground deals. Just a drink, a cigarette, and a moment of fucking silence before all the chaos resumed.
I had spent the last few days away for two reasons. One—handling Anastasia's backup situation, cleaning up the mess she left behind while making sure my crew was set for the year. And two—because I needed distance. A break from the never-ending family bullshit before college resumed.
