7
Vivienne's pov
I woke up with a heavy sigh, staring blankly at the ceiling of my bedroom. night swirled in my min I rubbed my face, trying to shake off my tiredness The club, the tension with Lucian, it all felt like a war - and now I was paying the price for it.
The memories of the previous night at the club kept replaying in my head constantly. The smell of smoke, the pounding music, Lucian's irritating smirk, and his arrogant words. It was almost like I was back there, reliving the frustration and anger.
I hated him. I hated how he could get under my skin with just a few, well-crafted lines.
Fuck, I hated the way he had pushed my gun away with arrogance, like he was untouchable. The way he called me 'Tigress' - like seriously, what sort of horrible nickname was that? It was degrading, yet... yet, it sent a shiver down my spine.
I sat up, swinging my legs over the edge of the bed, feeling the soft carpet beneath my feet. Last night was supposed to be simple. I'd wanted to assert my dominance, show him and everyone else that I wasn't someone to be played with.
Instead, I had walked out of there feeling like I'd lost control. I hated losing control. It was a slippery slope, one that could lead to vulnerability. And vulnerability was a luxury I couldn't afford.
Pulling myself up, I walked to the bathroom, splashing cold water on my face in an attempt to wake up. I looked in the mirror and My reflection stared back at me. It had only been few weeks since I took over the family yet I was like a shadow of my former self. I was tired, but this wasn’t the time to be weak.Weakness wasn’t an option.
my phone buzzed on the nightstand. I reached for it, the screen flashing with Marisol’s name. She never called unless it was important, and that feeling in my gut told me I wasn’t going to like whatever it was.
I answered. “Talk to me.”
"Boss, we have a problem." Marisol’s voice was calm but clipped, which meant it was bad. "The shipment. It’s gone."
I clenched my jaw. “What do you mean, gone?”
“There was a raid last night. Someone tipped off the Rivera family. They got to it before we could secure it.”
The Rivera family. Of course. My blood boiled at the name. They had always been a thorn in my side, always looking for any opportunity to strike. But someone tipped them off? That meant betrayal.
"How did this happen?" I demanded.
Marisol hesitated. “It’s one of ours. Someone close. I’m still trying to figure out who, but we’ve got a traitor.”
I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath to stop the rising anger. “Where are you now?”
"At the docks. We’re cleaning up, but there’s not much left. You need to get down here."
“I’m on my way.” I hung up, my hands already balling into fists.
Betrayal. Someone thought they could stab me in the back and get away with it. Not a chance. Whoever it was, they were going to regret crossing me. No one betrayed me and lived to tell the tale.
--
The docks were a disaster when I arrived. Shipping containers had been torn open, and my men moved hurriedly, trying to salvage whatever was left . Marisol stood near the edge of the dock, barking orders to the men.
“Marisol,” I called as I approached. “Tell me everything.”
She turned, her face grim. “It’s bad. Whoever did this knew exactly where to hit. We lost nearly everything.”
I scanned the area, eyes narrowing. “How did they know?”
"That’s the million-dollar question," she said, crossing her arms. “I’ve been going over it in my head all morning. It had to be someone inside, someone who knew the schedule, the route.”
“And the Riveras?”
“They were waiting. Like they knew we were coming.”
I clenched my fists, trying to keep my cool. “Find out who did this. I want names.”
Marisol nodded. “Already on it.”
I took a deep breath, scanning the destruction. The Riveras were bold to come at me like this, but it wasn’t their style to act alone. They were opportunists, always looking for a way to stay in the shadows while others took the fall. This was too well-planned, too calculated.
Which meant someone close to me had set this up. And when I found them, they were going to pay.
Just then, one of my men, Tomas, approached. “Boss, we found something.”
I followed Tomas, who led me to one of the open shipping containers.
A small envelope.
I knelt down, picking it up, I carefully unfolded the note inside. The handwriting was neat, almost elegant, and the message was simple:
"Better luck next time. Regards, R."
I crumpled the note in my fist, my mind racing. This wasn’t just about the Rivera's taunting me. Someone from my own crew betrayed me—someone I trusted enough to know every detail of our operation. The thought made my blood boil. I had to make an example out of whoever it was. Let everyone know what happens when you cross me.
I stood up and turned to Marisol“I want the traitor found. Now.”
Marisol nodded, but I wasn’t finished. “In thirty minutes, I want all the guys gathered. Every single one of them. And I want the traitor in the middle.”
She hesitated for a second, then nodded again. “Understood.”
I watched as Marisol walked off, barking orders to the men. My hands were clenched into fists at my sides. This was going to be a message, not just to the traitor but to everyone watching. No one crosses me. Not now, not ever.
Thirty minutes later, the men were gathered in a tight circle at the dock. Every one of them stood tense, eyes shifting nervously. In the center of the group, on his knees, was Carlo. One of my own. A man I’d trusted.
I walked slowly toward Carlo, standing at the center of the circle of my men. His hands were bound behind his back, and he was kneeling down on the concrete. His face was pale with fear flashing in his eyes, but there was still stubbornness in there. That was fine. I'd take care of that soon enough.
I took a moment to look around, making sure all of my men were watching. This wasn’t just about punishing Carlo for betraying me; this was about setting an example. Weakness wasn’t tolerated here. Betrayal was a death sentence.
“You sold us out,” I said quietly, but my voice carried enough weight to silence the whispers. “You gave the Riveras our plans, our shipment, everything.”