The Devil's Gambit

In this game, the only rule is survival.

Adrian...

The city was too quiet.

Sitting in the back of my black Aston Martin, I watched as the dim streetlights cast long, stretching shadows over the pavement. The location was perfect—an old industrial site, abandoned for years, its steel bones rusting under the weight of forgotten blood. A fitting place for a betrayal.

The plan was simple: leak information about a major deal, draw out the traitor, and watch them fall right into my hands. And yet, something didn't sit right.

Lorenzo sat beside me, his fingers drumming against the leather interior. "They should've made a move by now."

I exhaled, keeping my expression unreadable. "Patience. Rats don't reveal themselves until they're desperate."

Across the lot, Celeste stood near the warehouse entrance, arms crossed, her posture relaxed but alert. She was the wildcard in all of this. Too smart, too composed, too willing to risk herself for answers.

I should have left her out of this.

But the moment I saw the fire in her eyes when she insisted on being part of the setup, I knew there was no stopping her.

"You're putting a lot of trust in her," Lorenzo muttered, eyeing Celeste. "What if she's playing you?"

I gave him a sharp look. "Then I'll handle it."

Lorenzo huffed. "You say that like you haven't already lost control of the situation."

I didn't respond. Because I wasn't sure he was wrong.

A movement caught my attention. Finally.

A black SUV rolled in, its headlights cutting through the mist. Three men stepped out, their faces obscured by the darkness.

Dante's voice crackled in my earpiece. "That's not our buyer."

I tensed. This was wrong.

Celeste shifted, and I knew she saw it too. They weren't here for the deal. They were here for us.

"Move in," I ordered.

Gunfire erupted before I finished speaking.

The Firefight

The first shot missed me by an inch, slamming into the car door. Lorenzo cursed, drawing his gun as we dove for cover. "Fucking hell, this was a setup!"

I already knew that.

Returning fire, I caught one of the men in the shoulder, sending him stumbling back. They weren't amateurs, but they weren't expecting us to fight back this hard.

Celeste had taken cover behind a steel column, her own weapon drawn. She locked eyes with me for a split second. We were outnumbered, but not outmatched.

A shadow moved behind her. My stomach dropped. "Celeste, left!"

She turned just as a man lunged at her. She fired, the bullet slicing through his side, but he still tackled her to the ground.

I didn't think—I just moved.

Before he could bring his blade down on her, I grabbed him from behind, twisting the knife from his grip and shoving him off her. A second shot rang out—Celeste's bullet finishing him off.

She breathed heavily beneath me, her hair falling in disarray, eyes wide with something I couldn't quite place.

"You're reckless," I muttered.

"And you're bleeding," she shot back, her gaze dropping to my side.

I glanced down. A deep gash streaked across my ribs. I hadn't even felt it in the chaos. Adrenaline was a hell of a thing.

Sirens blared in the distance. Whoever had set this up didn't plan on sticking around for long.

Dante's voice cut through the comms. "They're pulling back!"

I looked down at Celeste, still pinned beneath me. I should've moved. But I didn't.

Her breath was uneven. So was mine. Too close. Too dangerous.

A shiver passed between us, unspoken, raw.

Then she broke it. "Adrian, get off me."

I smirked. "You sure?"

Her glare was the only answer I needed.

I pushed up, offering her my hand. She hesitated—just for a second—before taking it. Her fingers were cold, but her grip was steady.

As we stood, my mind was already working through the mess we had walked into. Someone had sold us out. Again.

And this time, I wasn't walking away without answers.