Chapter 11: Wrong Target [I]

Three Weeks Ago

The cue slid smoothly through her fingers as Rosé lowered herself over the snooker table. She adjusted her stance slightly, bringing her face almost level with the green felt. A strand of dyed crimson hair slipped loose from behind her ear and fell across one eye, forcing her to tilt her head slightly as she lined up the shot. Her fingers formed a steady bridge against the table while the cue glided back and forth through them in slow, measured strokes. Each movement was deliberate, her breathing calm and controlled as she calculated the angle before her.

Across from her stood a tall man in his early thirties, wearing a fitted black shirt with the top three buttons undone, exposing the hard lines of his chest and the silver chain resting against his tanned skin. His dark hair was pushed carelessly back, and a faint scar ran along his jawline, giving his already intimidating features an even rougher edge. One tattooed arm rested heavily on his cue as he watched her in silence, seemingly lost in thought. His eyes appeared fixed on the table, but the distant look in them suggested his mind was elsewhere.

Around them, the clubhouse pulsed with life. Cigarette smoke drifted lazily beneath the hanging lights. Laughter erupted from a poker table in one corner as cards slapped against wood and stacks of chips shifted between greedy hands. Music drifted from somewhere overhead, blending with conversations and occasional bursts of drunken shouting. Several gang members lounged on oversized leather sofas with bottles balanced on the armrests. A couple occupied one corner couch, too busy kissing to notice anything happening around them, while another group shared drinks and cigarettes near the bar.

With a sharp, decisive flick of her wrist, Rosé took the shot. The cue ball rolled forward with satisfying precision, clipped a striped ball at just the right angle, and sent it gliding cleanly into the corner pocket. The crisp clack echoed across the table.

A smile immediately spread across her face. She straightened and twirled the cue once in her hand before looking at the man opposite her. "Your turn, brother."

The man didn’t respond. He stood entirely still, his fingers loosely gripping the shaft of his cue, his mind clearly a million miles away.

Rosé blinked.

"Hey. Big Leo!"

Leo blinked and snapped back to reality. He shook his head, forced a small, tired smile, and cleared his throat. "Right. My turn?"

A frown immediately creased Rosé’s brows. She studied him for a moment. "Yes, it’s your turn."

Leo glanced down at the table before chuckling softly. "Right. Sorry."

He moved around the table and leaned over for his shot. Rosé watched him carefully for a moment before speaking.

"What is it, brother? What are you thinking about that’s got you this distracted?"

Leo straightened, letting out a long, heavy sigh as he rested the cue against his hip.

Rosé’s expression softened slightly, her tone turning gentler. "Come on, talk to me. Are you still bothered about Darius?"

The question immediately drew a weary look from him. "Seriously, Rosé?"

He shook his head. "I really don’t know what you even see in that boy."

Rosé rolled her eyes.

"Why are you so damn fixated on him? No matter how much I think about it, I just don’t get it." He gestured vaguely with the cue in her direction. "Can’t you just change your mind? I guarantee there are tons of powerful, wealthy men out there who would literally kill to be with the sister of the district’s boss. Why him?"

Rosé snorted.

"Well, I don’t want tons of powerful, wealthy men." She spun the cue lightly between her fingers. "It’s either Darius or no one else."

Leo groaned. "Rosé."

"My mind is made up."

Her answer came so quickly that Leo didn’t even bother hiding his frustration.

"It’s pretty obvious the boy doesn’t want you."

Rosé’s expression immediately darkened.

Leo pressed on anyway. "He’s a street rat working a dead-end waiter job, and he avoids you every chance he gets. He barely talks to you unless he absolutely has to, and he looked you dead in the eyes and rejected you. I can’t believe my own sister is so desperate for a stubborn prick that she has to use my men just to bend his will and force him to look her way."

Rosé simply shrugged, unbothered by the harsh words. A cold smirk touched her lips.

"Don’t worry about it, BBL. After Jack and his men rough him up a little, he’ll realize that being with me is a hell of a lot better than getting his bones broken in dark a alley. He’ll learn to cooperate."

Leo’s eye twitched. A dangerous glare settled over his face.

"Don’t call me that."

Rosé’s smirk only widened.

"Seriously," Leo snapped. "Never call me that again."

She rolled her eyes but said nothing.

Leo dragged a hand down his face before fixing her with a look that was equal parts irritation and concern.

"And just so you know, a man who doesn’t want you will not want you, even if you use an entire army to beat him into submission."

Rosé’s smile faded slightly.

"I really don’t want my sister getting a man by brute force," Leo continued. "A relationship like that never ends well."

"Darius will come to love me after he sees my better side," Rosé countered easily, her voice dripping with absolute confidence. "He just has to give me a chance first, and there’s no better way to get a chance with a stubborn man like Darius than a little force to set him straight."

Leo raised a brow.

"And he’ll suddenly fall for you? A woman who used force on him? Seriously, Rosé, is this why I started a gang? So you could use it to force men into relationships?" ℴ

"I’m not forcing men!" Rosé practically screeched.

"Yes, you are. That’s exactly what you’re doing." Rosé opened her mouth to argue, but Leo cut her off. "Threatening someone until they date you is still forcing them."

Rosé crossed her arms. "You’re supposed to be supporting me in everything," she shot back. "I’m your only family."

The anger drained from Leo’s face, leaving only weary concern. His voice softened, though the disappointment remained.

"I know. And that’s exactly why I’m saying this. You’re my only family, Rosé. I just want you to be happy. You’re beautiful, rich, and connected. If someone wants you, they should choose you because they actually want to be with you. Not because they’re terrified of what’ll happen if they say no."

"Relax. He’ll choose me after the boys set him straight," Rosé said stubbornly.

Leo shook his head, leaning over the table to finally take his shot. "Seriously, I don’t have a good feeling about this."

He lined up the cue and struck the ball, sending it cleanly across the felt.

Rosé’s smirk returned as she stepped around to the other side of the table to plan her next move. But before her cue could touch the ball, a hurried pair of heavy footsteps approached from behind her brother.

"Boss, we’ve got a problem."

"Then solve it," Leo snapped without even turning around.

Rosé rolled her eyes and moved to the far side of the table to line up her next shot.

Her brother’s gang members could never seem to learn until they were bleeding.

Everyone in the organization knew that whenever Leo was spending time with her, it meant absolutely no interruptions. Yet there were always a few idiot lower-tier grunts who couldn’t handle basic street business without running back to the boss.

Behind Leo, the messenger shifted nervously from foot to foot, his face completely pale as the boss bent down to take another shot, seemingly ignoring him.

"This is serious, Boss," the man said, his voice trembling. "This is something we can’t handle on our own."

The clubhouse suddenly seemed much quieter. Slowly, Leo straightened.

When he turned around, the messenger visibly swallowed. Leo’s stare alone was enough to make grown men nervous.

"How incompetent can you people possibly be?" he hissed. "Do I need to start replacing everyone in this building? Should I start questioning whether any of you are capable of tying your own shoes without supervision?"

The messenger swallowed again, his hands shaking at his sides. "It’s Jack and his men, Boss. They’ve been arrested by the Royal Police."

The cue in Rosé’s hand froze.

Leo’s eyes narrowed into slits, his relaxed posture instantly vanishing.

"What the hell do you mean, Royal Police? How exactly did Jack and his men get tangled up with the RP? Weren’t they supposed to be roughing up that waiter?"

"They were, Boss," the messenger stammered, backing away half a step. "But apparently, the Royal Police caught them in the middle of the fight and took them away along with the waiter."

"Fuck!" Leo slammed the butt of his cue stick against the concrete floor hard enough to crack the wood. His gut had been twisting uneasily ever since his sister mobilized his men to deal with her little crush, but he had brushed it off. What were the odds that a routine street beating would somehow intersect with the Royal Police?

And what in the world had the Royal Police even been doing in that part of town? His stomach tightened. Something wasn’t adding up. He looked at the messenger.

"Call Marcus for me. Now. Tell him to get every contact we have on the line."

The messenger practically ran.

Abandoning his ruined cue on the pool table, Leo marched out of the private room with heavy, furious strides. Rosé hurried after him.

"Brother, you’ll help bail Darius out, right?"

Leo didn’t even slow down. "For the love of God, Rosétta Valentine, not now!"