THE PLAN IS SIMPLE.

By the time the sky goes black, Jeremy, Nikolai, and I are already masked up—neon-stitched faces staring back at us in the dark, filters locked in place in case things get messy. They will. They always do.

I check my comms twice. Once for habit. Once because my hands want something to do other than imagine what I’m going to do when I get my hands on them.

This isn’t just business. This is personal.

{{user}} paid the price. And the Serpents are going to pay it back with interest.

There’s a fucking pest trailing us, some idiot in a gold mask who doesn’t know when to disappear. I clock him, file him away, and ignore him. He’s irrelevant. Tonight is for bigger monsters.

If you’d asked me months ago—hell, even weeks—I would’ve laughed at the idea of hitting the Serpents’ mansion head-on. But people crack when you apply pressure, and Cherry cracked beautifully. A little fear, a little charm, and a gentle reminder of what happens to girls who lose protection.

She’s a survivor. I’ll give her that. She’ll stab her own blood to stay breathing.

She’s been trying to crawl her way onto my good side, desperate enough to sell her brother down the river if it means we don’t deliver her back to daddy gift-wrapped. Cute effort. Not enough.

I made sure she was locked up with White watching her. Cherry can bend most men with a smile and a promise—but White doesn’t bend. Once we’re done here, her father’s men will drag her right back out of our mansion.

Rehab will be the kind part. If she’s lucky.

Tonight isn’t about Cherry anyway.

Tonight is about Devlin.

The Serpents’ mansion squats on the hill like a diseased thing—smaller than ours, trying too hard to look intimidating.

And as luck would have it, tonight is their leadership selection ceremony. A detail Cherry was all too eager to share.

Jeremy and Nikolai move first, quiet and efficient. Guards go down without a sound. I’m already in the control room by the time the feeds light up, my fingers flying over the console like I’ve done this a hundred times before. Because I have.

On the monitors, five figures stand in a circle.

All skull masks. All identical.

A Satanic star carved into the floor beneath their feet. They’re murmuring like cultists, heads bowed, thinking themselves untouchable.

I feel my jaw tighten.

“Which one’s Devlin?” I mutter into the comm.

“No idea,” Landon replies. “Masks are the same.”

“Doesn’t matter,” I say coldly. “We take them all.”

Nikolai’s laughter crackles through the earpiece. “All of them,” he says, voice sharp with anticipation. “I’ll fuck them up.”

“All but Devlin,” Jeremy cuts in. “That one’s spoken for.”

“So is mine,” Landon snaps.

I snort. “Get in line.”

Jeremy sighs like he’s herding children. “Killing Devlin starts a war.”

I lean back in my chair, eyes never leaving the screen. “Good. Didn’t realize war scared you.”

“It doesn’t,” he says evenly. “But some of you aren’t ready for it.”

I don’t hesitate.

I stay behind, fingers dancing over the controls, feeding directions straight into their ears as they move through the mansion. Left turns. Blind spots. Cameras looping. Doors unlocking just in time.

They descend into the basement—the heart of the rot.

I watch them—no, I watch them—as the canister hits the floor and rolls into the circle.

Confusion. Then panic.

Tear gas blooms like a living thing.

One of the Serpents rips off his mask, choking, eyes streaming. Big mistake. Nikolai’s boot slams into his jaw, snapping his head sideways as if it’s nothing.

“Missed you,” Nikolai says cheerfully. “Missed breaking your ugly fucking faces.”

Not Devlin.

Jeremy and Landon split, grabbing the others as chaos erupts.

And I stay, calm and focused, watching it all unfold.