Captured by a Devil 1 – Removed part two

Captured by a Devil 1 – Removed part two

Oct 29, 2024

“Get the hell off me!” The voice belonged to my reina. To the girl with the silver blonde hair.

 

It was then that I saw one of my bouncers, his filthy hands gripping her beautiful hair and her body pinned against the wall. His crotch was grinding against her and his hand was skimming up her leg.

 

“I’ll fuck both of your holes, fancy bitch,” he leered.

 

A red haze marred my vision, and fury burned in my throat and my chest.

 

“Get your fucking hands off her,” I roared, my gun already in my hand with a click to the gun’s safety.

 

Instantly, his hands jerked off her body like he got burned.

 

The look in her eyes tore at my fucking heart.

 

Terror. Vulnerability. Ghosts.

 

And it was that which sent me over the edge.

 

My hand wrapped around the fucker’s throat and I squeezed. Hard.

 

I turned my eyes to her. The girl that should be all smiles and safe in my club.

 

“Did he-” Fuck, I couldn’t say the word. It couldn’t have happened that fast. Right? “What did he do?”

 

When she didn’t answer, I reined in my rage. I was scaring her. Still gripping the throat of my bouncer, I let out a calming breath.

 

“Are you okay, Reina?”

 

She swallowed. “He didn’t rape me,” she whispered. “You came and-”

 

We were getting an audience now. Vivian, my right hand man, showed up and I signaled him over.

 

“Boss.”

 

The girl's wide eyes were still on me. She didn’t look at the man I was squeezing the living daylights out of.

 

Literally. Her eyes were locked on me, as if she needed to absorb my strength.

 

“Walk this lady back to her friends,” I ordered. “Safely. Anyone who touches them will answer directly to me. Then come back so we can take care of this cabrón.”

 

Her lower lip quivered. Fuck, I had just met the girl and seeing her upset didn’t sit well with me. She doesn’t belong in my world. The thought pierced through my chest in the most unexpected way. Why? I had no fucking idea. Or maybe I did have an idea.

 

I wanted her. For some reason, I wanted this girl - to protect her from all the evil in the world. Except, if I dragged her into my world, she’d be exposed to it all.

 

Vivian walked up to her. “Let’s go, princess,” he urged, but he didn’t touch her.

 

Her chest rose and she took a deep breath then exhaled. “Thank you.”

 

A soft whisper and she was gone.

 

The moment she was gone, I bared my teeth into a feral grin. With my free hand, I grabbed his arm and twisted him around, then slapped my hand over his mouth.

 

Before anyone could see, I stabbed my knife into his back, careful to miss his liver. I definitely didn’t want to end him too quickly by hitting his vital organs. Twirling my knife, I shoved it even deeper and every so often scraped against his ribs.

 

He screamed like a pig, grunting beneath my hand. Then with a sharp punch to the back of his head, I knocked him unconscious. His body slumped over, and it took everything in me not to fucking kick him in the goddamn balls.

 

For trying to rape a girl. In my club.

 

Nash and Vivian showed up at that very moment. Vivian started to bark the orders to the other bouncers while Nash used his body to block the view of the miserable fucker in front of me.

 

Once the area was clear, we dragged him down the dark corridor to one of the torture rooms I had set up in the basement. Every single one of my establishments had this room.

 

Wonderful, right back to the basement, I grumbled dryly.

 

A trail of blood spilled behind us as we hauled the body down the hallway. Every single one of my bouncers was built, and at this very moment, I fucking regretted it. He was heavy as fuck, even with his weight distributed between me and Nash.

 

Once in the basement, I swept my palm over the scanner of our security system and opened the steel, soundproof door. I spent hundreds of thousands of dollars transforming the basement of every building I owned into an impenetrable fortress.

 

First floor and above were designed in state-of-the-art luxury and security, but the security above didn’t compare to what we had down here. Nothing could get through this basement door.

 

The soundproof walls would hide the sound of a detonated bomb. The basement was where I handled all of my business - human traffickers, pedophiles, murders, and potential rapists. Anyone that dared to double-cross me.

 

If only I could drag my father here and get rid of him too.

 

Nash and I shoved the body of the fucker onto the stainless steel table and started chaining him up. Yeah, it was the opening night, and yes, we’d use the torture room plenty of times over the last few weeks.

 

The body on the table jerked and the discussion was put on pause.

 

“I didn’t know she was yours.” Ah, the sleeping fucker woke up. “Come on, I didn’t know. There are plenty of other pussies for me to hit.”

 

My molars ground together. “Not in my club, coño,” I gritted.

 

This pendejo would get an extra slow death. The slowest fucking death to ever happen since God created this Earth.

 

“Why don’t you be a good little bitch, and shut the fuck up.”

 

He opened his mouth and Spanish words spilled from his lips. “Me cago en tu madre.” I shit on your mother.

 

Oh this fucker would get a double whammy. “Oh you fucked up,” Nash grinned. “This torture session will be so much fun, pendejo.”

 

I punched him in the nose, relishing in the crunch of cartilage beneath my fist. At least I’d get relief this way tonight. Blood squirted from his broken nose and trickled down his ugly-ass face. He started jerking against the chains, like a worm on a hook.

 

“Let’s play, shall we?”

 

The panicked look on his face was priceless. He finally came to realize the truth. He wouldn’t survive this. Terror filled his expression.

 

“Please, please,” he panted, his eyes filling with tears. He didn’t fucking care when his victim was terrified. And he thought I’d give him mercy. Not in a million fucking years.

 

So I punched him again. Just for the principle of it. He gurgled on his blood and attempted to spit it out, his tooth coming out too. The fucker was a lousy spitter.

 

His nose had started swelling and his eyes were bruised. Grabbing a tool off the table, I leaned over him, letting him see the tool I was about to use on him.

 

A screwdriver.

 

His eyes widened, his eyeballs ready to pop out. I smiled cruelly, relishing the fear in his eyes.

 

“I hear you like to beat your girls,” Nash spat disgustedly. “Force yourself on them. Like you tried on Diablo’s girl.”

 

His head shook back and forth wildly. Fucking liar. He was caught with his hands on her, groping her. Just thinking about it made me see red.

 

Without delay, I shoved the screwdriver into his abdomen and his screams filled the room as his face turned blood red.

 

“Diablo, I’m sorry,” he bellowed like a fucking bitch, a vein pulsing in his forehead. “I didn’t know she was yours. I’m sorry.”

 

In response, I slowly pulled the screwdriver out of his abdomen so he could feel every single thing. He started coughing, blood trickling down the side of his mouth. He was a fucking mess.

 

Then I stabbed the screwdriver straight into his abdomen again.

 

“This is for every woman you ever hurt,” I hissed in a low tone. “And especially for the one you touched upstairs. Because she is la reina and you are fucking dirt under her feet.”

 

Much to my dismay. The fucker only lasted ten minutes.

 

Goddamn coward.

 

I’d committed plenty of cold-blooded murders. And I’d done it for various reasons. For raping a child, killing an innocent, or destroying the life of an innocent.

 

But I’d never killed someone out of jealousy.

 

Yes, my fucking bouncer scared my reina, but I’d be a fucking liar if I didn’t admit to myself that it gnawed at me that he touched her. He fucking touched her. Marred her snow white skin with his filthy fingers.

 

It took all of my control not to go after her and drag the beautiful, young woman home with me.

 

It was my fault. I knew giving this fucker a chance was a bad fucking move. It was the last time I’d ever let my father convince me of anything. This guy was a fucking psychopath. A real one. He liked to fuck rough and beat even rougher.

 

The anger simmered, making my blood run a few degrees hotter. The guy deserved to die.

 

Once I cleaned up, I headed upstairs to my office. As I neared my office, I could hear soft whimpers. It should have been my clue, but I was so fucking pissed off that it didn’t register in my brain. Instead, I cracked my neck to release some of the tension and as I neared my office.

 

I entered it to find my father’s hand around a young woman’s neck, hissing something under his breath.

 

“Oh God.” I wasn’t in the mood for this today. Did all fucking predators decide to show up on the opening night of my new club? I strode towards the two of them. “Let go of her,” I hissed.

 

I wasn’t above killing another man today. Father or not.

 

End of Jungkook pov.

 

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