Dévoyée

Note: Mr. Devereux here refers to the former CEO (Lucien’s father)

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The power struggle between the Devereux and the Augustin families had been raging on for years. It was no secret that the two families hated each other, yet when their interests aligned, they collaborated on shared investments.

After all, business came first.

It was past midnight when the muddy alleys of New York City witnessed an illegal operation going down.

The rain poured down in torrents, soaking the freshly pressed suit of a man standing in the middle of an empty alley. He hadn’t been there for long before a black SUV pulled up to the mouth of the alley.

A towering figure emerged from the backseat, clutching a black briefcase in one hand and an umbrella in the other. He took deliberate steps toward the man waiting alone in the alley.

“Je suis venu seul, comme je l’avais promis. J’espère que vous avez tenu parole,” he said as he neared the unmoving figure beneath the rain.

(French: I came alone, as I promised. I hope you kept your word.)

“Bien sûr, monsieur. Les documents sont exactement ce que vous avez demandé.” The drenched man offered a slight nod. A diagonal scar marred his face, running from his jaw to his opposite brow. Then, with an enigmatic smile, he added, “La réputation de Monsieur Devereux pour tenir ses promesses est incontestable.” He held out a black waterproof folder against the downpour.

(French: Of course, sir. The documents are exactly as you requested. / Mr. Devereux’s reputation for keeping his promises is unquestionable.)

“Cela signifie que je vous fais confiance. Ne me donnez pas de raison de le regretter.” Mr. Devereux took the folder, his eyes never leaving that of the man as he brought it closer. Only then did his gaze flicker downward, carefully examining its contents.

(French: It means I’m trusting you. Don’t make me regret that.)

“Je ne prends pas ça à la légère. Vous ne le regretterez pas,” The man affirmed. There was a long pause before Mr. Devereux broke the silence.

(French: I don’t take that lightly. You won’t regret it.)

“Vous avez bien fait.” He handed the briefcase over. The man popped it open just enough to check the money inside.

(French: You did well.)

“Ce fut un immense plaisir de faire affaire avec vous, monsieur !” A mutter escaped the man’s lips as he shut the briefcase with a loud thud. Mr Devereux turned away, retracing his steps back to the parked SUV. The man’s eyes tracked his back as he walked off, watching him with a calculated stare.

(French: It was my greatest pleasure doing business with you, sir!)

The eerie silence of the night planted unease deep into a man’s heart. It was as if the streets themselves were holding their breath, waiting for something to happen.

Somewhere in the distance, an engine began to hum. As the sound grew closer, Mr. Devereux glanced over his shoulder to see that the man who’d stood there moments ago was nowhere to be seen. In a reflexive movement, his hand flew to his inner jacket pocket, fingers curling around the grip of his pistol.

“Putain,” he muttered under his breath, now aware of the predicament he was in. He yanked out his pistol, aiming it at the black van that came to a harsh stop at the entrance to the alley. The loud screeching of tires disturbed the stillness of the night.

(French: Fuck.)

Without hesitation, Mr. Devereux started shooting at the black van as soon as its sliding door opened. A group of ten trained assassins stormed out of the vehicle.

It was only a brief moment before the other party responded, opening fire on the lone man in the deserted alley. To avoid drawing attention, all their weapons had silencers installed.

In the mere span of a minute, the SUV’s driver was killed, his body slumping out of the front seat. As the men closed in, the situation was getting more dangerous, but with Mr Devereux’s impeccable aim, he managed to take down two of them before a bullet finally struck him.

A sharp sting tore through his thigh as he looked down at the angry gash that sat there. He groaned in pain as he sank to the ground, balancing himself on his uninjured knee.

He pulled out the bullet hastily, planning to eliminate at least two more before they got to him.

However, as he pried the small, round object from his skin, he realized his assailants were using rubber bullets. More specifically, rubber bullets with a hard casing.

Blood spilled from his wound and trailed down his pants, staining them red, while he pushed himself to let off a few more bullets before he ran out of ammo.

He didn’t get the chance to see how many of them he had killed before something slammed into his head, causing his vision to darken and his awareness to slip away.

He collapsed, his limp body hitting the ground with a splash as his face met the rain-soaked concrete. The remainder of the men surrounded him, executing the rest of their plan as the night faded away.

What began as a simple scheme to gain power soon spiraled into utter chaos, one that wasn’t going to settle down anytime soon.

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A/N:

Hey Everyone! I’m back with a new silly idea that I plan to execute.

Truthfully, this is my first time writing this kind of trope, so I’m not totally sure how it will play out. Nonetheless, I’m extremely excited to unpack all the stuff I have in store for you.

Disclaimer, though: I like creating flawed characters. They won’t be perfect, meaning that they’ll make mistakes. They’ll say and do the wrong things, sometimes.

In my opinion, it makes them feel more real. Nobody wants to read about an ideal character who never does wrong.

I also like for feelings to take time to flourish. You won’t find them in love by the second chapter.

So, if this is what you signed up for, buckle up for the ride.

I hope you enjoy this book! Let me know if you do! <3

Happy reading,

mel