Chapter 11: A Peddler’s Dream (And a Plan to Dominate)

Cady's POV

"I'm not hungry," I snap, glaring at him. "You think I'm going to sit here and have a meal with you like we're friends?"

He sighs, setting the tray on a nearby table. "You need to eat, Cady."

"Why do you care?" I shoot back, crossing my arms over my chest. "Why do you even—"

"Because I do!" he snaps, and for a moment, there's a crack in that perfect, emotionless mask. I see something raw, something painful, and it catches me off guard.

But then it's gone, and he's back to being the monster I know. He steps closer, his eyes boring into mine. "You'll eat, and you'll do as I say. Because if you don't, I promise you, I'll make this so much worse."

I swallow hard, my heart pounding. "You're a psychopath."

He smiles, but there's no warmth in it. "Maybe. But you're the one who's stuck here with me."

I stare at him, my mind racing, trying to find a way out, a way to fight back. But all I can think about is that one moment when his mask slipped, when I saw the pain beneath his visage.

Maybe... just maybe, there's a way to use it against him.

"Fine," I whisper, reaching for the tray. "I'll eat."

He watches me, his eyes narrowing, and I can tell he doesn't believe me. But he doesn't say anything, just turns and walks out, leaving me alone in this cage once more.

I pick up the fork, my hands trembling, and force myself to take a bite. It's tasteless, but I barely notice. All I can think about is that crack in his armor. That tiny sign of humanity.

Maybe that's my way out. Maybe that's how I'll break free.

$$$

Aiden's POV

The wind bites against my skin as I step out of the club, tugging the collar of my coat tighter around my neck. It's late, way too late, and I should be heading home. But I can't. Not yet. Not when there's so much at stake.

The call comes through just as I'm crossing the street. I glance at the number, my stomach twisting with nerves. I don't need to check the ID to know who it is.

"Yeah?" I answer, keeping my voice steady, even though my heart's pounding in my chest.

"Aiden." The voice on the other end is clipped, all business. Superintendent Roberts. Of course. "We've been waiting for the next package."

I grit my teeth, forcing myself to keep walking, keep my head down. "I know, sir. There's been... a delay."

"A delay?" His voice sharpens, and I wince. "Do you understand what that means? Every hour we're behind, we're losing money. And trust me, you don't want to start losing my money, Aiden."

I swallow hard, glancing around to make sure no one's listening. Not that it matters; the streets are empty, the city asleep. "I'm handling it," I say, trying to sound confident, in control. "Just need a little more time."

"There is no more time," he snaps. "The next delivery needs to be ready by tomorrow night, or I'll find someone else who can handle it. Are we clear?"

Crystal. "Yes, sir," I mutter, feeling the sweat start to bead on my forehead despite the chill in the air.

The line goes dead, and I let out a shaky breath, raking a hand through my hair. This is getting out of control. Every time I think I've got a handle on things, something else slips through my fingers. And Roberts… that bastard doesn't have an ounce of patience.

$$$

My apartment is just as I left it, pristine, polished, like something out of a magazine. You'd never guess what I do for a living just by looking at this place. But that's the point, isn't it? Keep up appearances, play the part, and no one asks questions.

I drop my coat on the back of a chair and head to the kitchen, reaching for the pack of cigarettes I keep hidden behind the spice rack. It's my one indulgence, the one vice I let myself have. I light up, the smoke curling around me like a protective veil, calming my nerves just enough to think.

"Status update?" I bark out, my eyes narrowing as I turn toward the shadow by the window. My PA, Greg, a stocky man with a permanently blank expression, steps forward.

"Shipments are on schedule," he says, his tone as neutral as always. "The usual routes are secure. No hiccups so far."

"Good." I take a drag, the nicotine hitting my bloodstream, and exhale slowly. "The superintendent's breathing down my neck about the next… delivery." I hate using these euphemisms, but it's necessary. You never know who's listening. "Make sure there are no surprises, understood?"

Greg nods. "And the… special order you requested?"

My lips twitch into a grin. "Ah, yes. That." I flick ash into the tray, savoring the burn in my lungs. "Make sure it's top quality this time. No more slip-ups. We can't afford another mess like last month."

He nods again, dutiful as always, and I feel a surge of satisfaction. Things are finally falling into place. "And… him?" Greg asks carefully, knowing exactly who I mean but too afraid to say it outright.

My good ol' boss. That piece of work. "He'll get what's coming to him," I mutter, taking another drag. "Sooner or later."

Greg doesn't ask any more questions. He knows better than to push me when I'm in one of these moods. Instead, he just nods, slipping back into the shadows, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

I lean back, letting my head rest against the cool glass of the window, staring out at the city below. So many people, living their little lives, thinking they're free. It's laughable.

But me? I'm different. I've got plans, bigger than any of them realize. And once everything's in place… Well, let's just say no one's going to be standing in my way.

Not even him.