WET PUSSY
On the rain-soaked streets of Blackthorn City, whispers follow a drenched black cat the locals call Wet Pussy. To some, it's just a stray. To others, it's an omen. But to one woman, its sudden appearance at her doorstep marks the beginning of a nightmare.
After a stormy night leaves her staring at a bloody handprint on her window, she's dragged into the dark underworld surrounding an infamous bar that bears the same name. Inside its walls, secrets are traded like currency, and disappearances are explained away with chilling ease.
When her closest friend vanishes without a trace, she realizes the mystery isn't just about the bar or the cat. It's about her. Someone knows her past, someone is pulling her strings, and every step deeper into the shadows feels like walking into a trap.
But what if the cat isn't just a bystander? What if it's the only witness and the key to unraveling the truth?
With twists at every turn, Wet Pussy is a suspense charged thriller where nothing is as it seems, and survival depends on who you trust when the storm falls.
Chapters
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Chapter 1
All night, the storm lingered over Blackthorn City like a restless guest, hitting the rooftops like fists on locked doors. Streets ran like rivers, neon signs sputtered in the downpour, and the few pedestrians who dared to venture out moved like ghosts blurred by rain.
Selene March wasn't expecting visitors not at this hour, not in this weather. Yet something scratched at her apartment door.
Not the knock of a neighbor. Not the shuffle of human hands.
Scratch Scratch Pause Scratch.
Her pulse quickened. The storm outside howled as she crept closer, barefoot on the cold tiles, the hairs on her arms lifting like needles of static. She hesitated, then pulled the door open an inch.
There it was.
A cat. Black as midnight, its fur plastered to its frame by the rain, eyes gleaming with unnatural intensity. The drenched creature sat perfectly still, tail curled around its soaked paws.
It should have looked pitiful. Instead, it looked like it had been waiting.
Selene almost laughed at herself. "Just a cat," she whispered, though her voice sounded unsure even to her own ears. She bent low, the metallic tang of the storm heavy in the air, and the cat hissed softly as though warning her.
She was about to close the door when her eyes shifted past the creature, toward the glass window across the hall.
That's when she froze.
A handprint.
Pressed against the outside of her rain-slicked window. Fingers splayed, dripping red.
Selene stumbled back, breath caught in her throat. Her mind screamed to run, to call someone, anyone-but the cat slipped past her legs into the apartment before she could react.
The lights flickered.
The storm raged.
And Selene realized she wasn't alone tonight.
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8.5
I was guiding the blade through a slab of A5 Wagyu for our seven-year anniversary when a burner phone vibrated against my knee.
It was a photo of a manicured hand resting on the tuxedo I had bought for Dante three weeks ago. On the finger sat a massive diamond ring.
The caption read: Mrs. Isabella Gallo. Finally legal.
For seven years, I wasn't just his lover. I was the architect of his legitimacy, the woman who wrote the code that cleaned his dirty money. Yet, while I was here cooking his favorite steak, he had married a mob princess to secure her father's territory.
When Dante walked in smelling of expensive scotch and another woman's perfume, he didn't apologize.
"It's just politics," he said, loosening his tie. "You keep your allowance, your position. You just stay in the shadows a little longer."
He looked at me like I was a piece of high-end furniture. When I told him I was leaving, his face darkened.
"You can't resign from the Mafia, Seraphina," he sneered, blocking the door. "If you leave, I will burn everything you have."
He truly believed he was the King on the chessboard. He forgot that I was the one who built the board.
I didn't scream. I didn't cry.
I simply walked out, opened my encrypted laptop, and dialed the number of the one man Dante feared most.
"I'm cashing out," I said. "And I'm bringing the entire Gallo empire with me."
7.6
Top DEA agent Kaitlynn Bruce woke up to a heavy, chemical lethargy, only to realize she was trapped in the body of a weak, abused war widow.
Before she could even process her new reality, she heard her sister-in-law counting cash, selling her unconscious body to a local thug for a measly two hundred dollars.
The thug dragged her new seven-year-old son, Cason, into the bedroom.
"Mommy!"
When the boy reached out, the man brutally kicked his small body into a wooden doorframe, leaving him gasping and bleeding on the floor.
Memories flooded Kaitlynn's mind. Her predecessor was a pathetic doormat whose husband's military pension had been bled dry by these greedy in-laws, leaving her children to starve and suffer endless abuse.
But as Kaitlynn looked at the bleeding boy's dark, unnervingly alert eyes, a chilling piece of DEA intelligence clicked in her mind.
Cason Richmond.
The name, the town, the abusive aunt—it all matched the classified files of the "Director of the Hive," the most ruthless and feared cartel puppet master in the criminal underworld.
How could this battered, starving child be destined to become the ultimate monster she used to hunt?
The original widow's tragic death was supposed to be the catalyst that pushed this boy into total darkness.
But Kaitlynn Bruce was not a victim.
Adrenaline burning through the drugs, she cracked the thug's neck with a brass lamp and choked the sister-in-law against the wall.
Looking down at the boy who was supposed to become a global nightmare, she made a vow. She was going to rewrite his script, even if she had to burn the whole world down to do it.
8.4
"You don't belong in my world," he growled, his hand tightening around my waist.
"Then why do you keep pulling me deeper into it?" I whispered.
Ten years ago, I lost everything, my parents, my innocence, my trust in fate.
I only remember his shaking hands... and the birthmark on his arm.
Now, the most feared man in the city wants me.
A billionaire who commands blood and silence.
A mafia king who kneels only in the dark, only for me.
But what happens when I discover that the man I love...
...is the same man who destroyed my life?
9.0
The rejection letter from the private security school arrived on a Tuesday. It stated clearly that the single slot allocated to my son, Danny, had been filled by another boy.
My husband, a high-ranking Capo, had signed away our son’s protection to make room for his mistress’s bastard.
He sneered at me, calling Danny "soft," and sent him to an unguarded cabin in the north to toughen up.
Three days later, the Russians took him.
When the courier arrived, there was no ransom demand. Just a package containing a shred of blue cotton with a green T-Rex, soaked in black, stiff blood.
Tom didn't shed a tear. He poured a scotch, stepped over me as I wept on the floor, and blamed me for coddling the boy.
Overwhelmed by the silence of a house that would never hear my son's laughter again, I swallowed a bottle of sleeping pills to escape the pain.
But the darkness didn't last.
I woke up gasping, my heart hammering against my ribs. Sunlight hit my face.
"Mommy?"
Danny stood in the doorway, wearing his dinosaur pajamas, whole and alive.
I looked at the calendar. It was May 15th. The day the letter arrived.
The grief in my chest calcified into cold rage.
I knew about the skimming. I knew about the fake widow status. I knew exactly how to bury my husband.
I picked up the phone and dialed the one number no wife was ever supposed to call directly—the Enforcer.
"I have evidence of treason," I said. "And I'm bringing the proof."
7.5
I spent five years laundering my family's wealth and buying military-grade weapons to crown my husband, Alistair, the Don of the Chicago Mafia.
But the night before his coronation, he drove an Italian stiletto into my stomach.
He sneered that a Don needed a true Mafia Queen, and that was always meant to be his "fragile" friend, Kylie.
As I bled out on the Persian rug, he revealed the sickening truth.
The night I was found in a rival Irish boss's bed two years ago wasn't a setup by our enemies. Alistair had ordered his own mother and sister to drug and frame me.
He just needed me terrified enough to sign over my merchant trust fund to prove my loyalty.
My entire marriage, my sacrifices, and my stolen wealth were just stepping stones for him and his mistress.
I had bled for him and won him the city, only to be slaughtered like a sacrificial lamb so he could hand my empire to another woman.
Before the flames I started consumed us both, I swore I'd drag his entire family to hell.
Opening my eyes again, the suffocating smoke was gone, replaced by the scent of lavender and the bitter taste of chloral hydrate.
I was back on the exact night of the frame-up two years ago.
Outside the door, my sister-in-law was whispering, waiting for the Irish boss to arrive so they could ruin me.
This time, I was going to make sure she was the one in that bed.
7.3
I woke up freezing in a dark alley with no memory of the last five years, only to stumble back to my powerful mafia family.
They wept and told me I had been murdered on my sixteenth birthday. But the real nightmare wasn't my death—it was the man who refused to let my corpse go.
Damien Moretti, the ruthless Don of Chicago, went completely mad. He locked my lifeless body in a secret vault, dressing me in pristine silk and worshipping my ghost in the dark. My brothers had to risk their lives to steal my "body" back just to give me a proper burial.
Now, he has discovered my tomb is empty, and his hounds are tearing the city apart to find the thieves.
"If the Wraith finds out she is breathing, he will lock her in a gilded cage forever."
My father's terrified warning rings in my ears. I am trapped in my own home, shivering as fragments of my coma return. I can still feel Damien's phantom kisses and hear his obsessive, necrophilic whispers in the pitch black.
Tonight, he forced his way into our estate and stood in my bedroom, desecrating my clothes while I hid breathless in the closet.
Tomorrow is the charity gala. My family is risking a mafia war to smuggle me out of the city, and I must escape before the dark king drags me back to my grave.